


XCOM: The Advent Directive

by Xabiar



Category: XCOM: Enemy Within
Genre: Advent, Alien Culture, Alien Invasion, Alien Technology, Democracy, EXALT - Freeform, Espionage, Experimentation, F/M, Government, Peacekeepers, Police, Politics, Psionics, Violence, War, XCOM - freeform, totalitarianism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2018-10-28 09:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 838,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xabiar/pseuds/Xabiar
Summary: Australia has been annexed, the United Nations is in chaos, the world is under siege and the Ethereals have taken the field. Facing the full might of the Ethereal Collective, the Commander must rally XCOM, the newly formed ADVENT, and several other allies and rivals to unite the divided nations by any means necessary, for failure now will mean the fall of humanity once and for all.





	1. Introduction

Introduction

***

This story is based on XCOM: Enemy Within with the Long War mod.

***

Please note that the reviews contain major spoilers.

***

This story may contain material some may find disturbing.

***

This story is a sequel to XCOM: The Atlas Protocol

***

I do not own any characters explicitly mentioned in XCOM: Enemy Unknown/Within/2

***

 _Beta Reader (Chapters 0 – 12)_ :[Ashardalon125](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3158694/Johnclaw-Dragonhelm)

 _Beta Readers (Chapters 13 – 23)_ :[BloodsplatBOOM](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9067347/bloodsplatBOOM), [Thuzan117 ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5593824/Thuzan117)and [Ashardalon125](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3158694/Johnclaw-Dragonhelm)

 **Beta Readers (Chapters 24 – Present):**[BloodsplatBOOM](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9067347/bloodsplatBOOM), [Edumesh](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9101614/Edumesh), [Thuzan117 ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5593824/Thuzan117)and [Ashardalon125](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3158694/Johnclaw-Dragonhelm)

***

Dramatis Personae

(Please note that not all characters are listed)

_XCOM-Affiliated:_

The Commander – The Commander of the XCOM

Ariel Jackson – Central Officer of XCOM Analysis and Communications

Moira Vahlen – Head of XCOM Research and Development

Raymond Shen – Head of XCOM Engineering

Shaojie Zhang – Director of XCOM Intelligence

Patricia Trask – Overseer of XCOM Psionics Division

Abigail Gertrude – XCOM Intelligence Agent

Jamali Muhammad – XCOM Soldier

Sierra Morrow – XCOM Soldier

Aegis – Ethereal Defector

Zar’nartha’intha (“Nartha”) – Vitakara Defector

 

_ADVENT-Affiliated:_

Saudia Vyandar – Chancellor of ADVENT

Ethan Vyandar – ADVENT Protection Service

Elizabeth Falka – Director of ADVENT Intelligence

Richard Tygan – Lead ADVENT Geneticist

 

_Ethereal Collective-Affiliated:_

The Imperator – Leader of the Ethereal Collective

The Battlemaster – Commander of the Ethereal Collective Military

Zar’Chon’ravarian’vitiary (“Ravarian”) – Zar’Chon of the Vitakara Zararch

***

Synopsis of XCOM: The Atlas Protocol

In the aftermath of the destruction of the alien Dreadnought, many different parties make moves to take advantage of the peaceful lull. The Council of Nations decrees to send a representative to keep an eye on XCOM and the increasingly independent Commander. As a compromise between the differing factions in the Council, Herman Diederick is chosen to represent the Council’s interests and sent to the Citadel to begin reporting. In addition to sending a public representative, the Council also creates a secret counterintelligence squad led by a former UN assassin to keep an eye on XCOM and their covert operations.

Around the same time, the illusive, ancient, and secretive organization known as EXALT forges a faux alliance with the aliens, planning to utilize them to gain their technology and remove the ones they view as standing in their way of total world control: XCOM and the United Nations. The aliens accept their agreement and begin providing them with advanced tech and weaponry.

XCOM continues work on developing tech and tactics to use against the alien threat, and begin devoting resources to several new XCOM initiatives: Genetic Modification and the MEC Project, both heavily based on the alien substance identified as MELD. In addition, the Commander orders XCOM Intelligence to begin work to find out more about EXALT.

After stopping several alien attacks, EXALT lures XCOM into a trap and surprises them, taking out several of their best soldiers. Soon after XCOM Intelligence locates a shell company utilized by EXALT, and eventually locate one of their hidden bases with the help of the Council Shadow team. With the advantage of surprise, and the new MEC troopers, XCOM easily wipes out the EXALT installation.

Soon after the raid in EXALT, the Commander receives an offer from the President of Russia to visit, and they form a secret alliance, planning to send resources through proxy countries to circumvent the restriction on trading alien tech with Council Nations. Through this XCOM forges alliances with several more countries, including Ukraine and Armenia, much to the dismay of the Council, who are further antagonized when the Commander orders an airstrike in Newfoundland to destroy a chryssalid breeding ground.

Soon after that, Dr. Vahlen begins applying her genetic modifications to XCOM soldiers, after first performing experiments on prisoners to weed out adverse effects, and they prove to be extremely effective against EXALT and alien forces. Israel also begins acting suspiciously and XCOM Intelligence is directed to determine the reason for it. After infiltrating an Israeli military camp, they retrieve several major documents, including one entitled Operation: ADVENT, which detailed Israel’s plans to start a war with various Middle Eastern nations.

EXALT suffers several defeats at the hands of XCOM, prompting the aliens to begin questioning if their alliance is truly beneficial. Several times they remove psionic subjects that EXALT is experimenting on for their own purposes, though one escapes and EXALT sends out people to track her down.

Following a failed attempt by EXALT to discredit XCOM, the Supreme Leader of North Korea contacts the Commander, and after some negotiations, agree to join as an ally of XCOM. Shortly after that, an Ethereal by the name of Aegis telepathically contacts the Commander, and reveals the location of one of EXALT’s major bases. XCOM acts on this information, and takes control of the base and speaks for the first time with the Director of EXALT.

Due to the EXALT base being in China, and previous tensions between them and XCOM, China withdraws from the Council and pulls their funding. In response the Commander allies XCOM with Taiwan and ASEAN. Shortly after, an XCOM soldier turns himself into custody, revealing himself to be an alien infiltrator, and provides XCOM with a wealth of information, including the location of an alien base controlled by Sectoids on Earth. XCOM sends two squads to assault the base and they take it successfully, though suffer serious losses at the hands of a deadly psionic Hive Commander.

After the loss of their base, and EXALT consistently losses to XCOM, the Ethereals take a direct interest in EXALT and send down the Ethereal known as the Ravaged One to direct EXALT to their specific goals. The Ravaged One then lures XCOM into a trap and easily wipes out the squad, warning XCOM to surrender or face a war with the Ethereals.

Just after XCOM recovers from that attack, the Ravaged One launches an attack on New York, one that takes the lives of several more soldiers, and hundreds of thousands of civilians, but is ultimately driven back with the combined might of XCOM psions, soldiers and the local police and soldiers. EXALT at this point decides to put in motion their plan to betray the aliens, having made a tenuous truce with XCOM earlier for the sake of the world.

With the world in a precarious position, the Commander reveals the Advent Directive; his plan to replace the United Nations and establish a world government with true power and authority, one which XCOM would be an ally to. He convinces multiple countries of the necessity, and prepares to unveil it when the time is right.

The aliens decrease their attacks, giving XCOM a brief period of peace which is shattered when the Ravaged One leads an attack directly against the Citadel, killing nearly a third of XCOM’s soldiers and several of their command staff before being killed by the combined might of the XCOM psions.

After the unsuccessful attack, EXALT puts their plan in motion to destabilize the world as a final requirement for their alliance, and manipulates Israel and Brazil into going to war with nearby nations, threatening to throw the world into chaos as the aliens prepare a retaliation. Soon after the Commander himself meets the Director, and he requests that she take command of the new ADVENT organization and disperse the remaining EXALT members into its ranks for the greater good, on the condition that EXALT has to die forever. She agrees and prepares to take control of the new world government.

It ends with the aliens launching an all-out attack on Australia and taking the continent. At the same time XCOM responds to an abduction report and discover the Ethereal Aegis waiting for them who turns himself into XCOM custody. As the aliens continue to stabilize Australia, the world frantically attempts to ready itself for a war they are unprepared for and the Commander wastes no times in preparing his first response, starting with the execution of the Demeter Contingency.


	2. Prologue - The Last Command

 

_Skyranger, en route to Council of Nations HQ_

A little bit of extra practice.

The pistol in his hand levitated a few inches into the air and with a twitch of his fingers, he sent it lazily spinning in a circle.

It was getting much easier, and he was getting used to the stares that he got from a rather basic act of telekinesis. Especially from his former team.

Or what was left of them, anyway.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Ethan commented, eyeing the pistol as the Commander released his telekinetic hold on the weapon and it fell gently back into his hand. Ethan himself was clad in the new red and black armor of the ADVENT Officers, while the rest of them wore the new armor of the Lancer Division, most notably displaying the rounded black helmets derived from Israeli tech.

“I’ll keep it to a minimum,” the Commander promised, amused, and imagined several smiles were underneath the helmets of the men and women around him.

Reunions had been rather understated with everyone being busy preparing to reveal ADVENT, as well as trying to figure out the best way to defend against the upcoming attacks. It would take some time for the aliens to completely subdue Australia…but that time was very, _very_ short.

Which meant that the Demeter Contingency had decisively gone into effect hours after the initial attack.

After Aegis had shown up and surrendered.

That…that was an issue that had to be dealt with later. Truthfully he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it yet. But he _was_ sure that Aegis was not going to suddenly turn on them. He had no reason to, as he had shown during the brief fight with Patricia.

If he had wanted to win, he could have.

The question was why he hadn’t. That was a question to have answered after the Council was disposed of, the United Nations destroyed and ADVENT established. If all went according to plan, it would happen within the next day.

But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling like not everything was going to go according to plan. It never did. But the plan had been meticulous and he had the best team possible to carry it out. Franklin, Sophie, David, Hamilton, Rey, Travis, Jordan and Ethan. Some of his team that were still willing to fight beside him for one last mission.

A mission that was personal for all of them, but especially for his team. Though contrary to what it apparently seemed, he felt no need to take revenge. Like it or not, the Council had put him in charge of XCOM, and that deserved something. As the scope of the war progressed, the Council had gone from something of an irritating rival to a powerless, vindictive group. He could no longer muster up any strong feelings for them. His rationale was simple now: They were an obstacle in uniting the human race, and needed to be removed.

But it was not the same for the rest of his team. It was the United Nations who had broken their promise for fair trials and it was the United Nations who had essentially sentenced them to torture and slow painful deaths, had EXALT not rescued them.

They deserved justice, and the Commander saw no reason to exclude them from the destruction of the organization that was responsible for the worst times of their lives. Revenge or justice, in this case it seemed the same to him. Unlike others, he never really considered the two mutually exclusive.

It hadn’t been hard to find volunteers. Every one of his former team had requested to join him, but in the end, there was only a limited number of spots on a skyranger, and he could only take the best. In this case, those around him.

If nothing else, he was happy that all of them had found a new life within EXALT, as questionable as the entire organization was. But they’d taken his people in, and that was something he couldn’t ignore. It really was fascinating just how well most of them had assimilated into EXALT. Almost all of them had spouses, and many had children.

Unfortunately, those children would grow up during an alien invasion, if they survived at all.

“Question,” Rey asked, lacing her fingers together and resting her arms on her armored knees. “Once you took over XCOM, did you try and find us?”

The Commander gave her a wry smile. “Of course I did. And then learned that everyone was dead. Executed, so the records went. EXALT did a good job, definitely fooled me.”

“Maybe a little too well,” Ethan grumbled. “I’d always wondered if it was a good idea to be that thorough, in case it turned out that some of us weren’t dead and would try to reconnect. Would kinda put a damper on that.”

“Be honest,” Franklin chided. “How many of us really expected the _United Nations_ to spare the Commander?”

“Certainly not me,” the Commander answered, and all of them chuckled at that.

“I saw the execution,” Ethan said. “You had quite an audience for it as well.”

“No shortage of witnesses for that execution,” Sophie chimed in. “Guess the drugs were fake.”

“Oh no,” the Commander snorted at the memory. “Whatever they used was _very_ real. And painful. They might not have wanted to kill me, but they sure didn’t have any problems being gentle.”

“Can’t blame them, I suppose,” Ethan conceded.

 _“This is Big Sky to Diamondback Team,”_ Big Sky said, making all of them snap to attention. _“We’re coming in now. Showtime, Commander.”_

“Copy that,” the Commander said, mentally running through the list while his soldiers turned to look at him as he stood up in the middle of the skyranger. “Stick to the plan, remember? When the time comes, I’ll send the signal.”

“Schematics and data still good?” Travis asked.

“Should be,” the Commander nodded. “Between eighteen and twenty-four security personnel, not including staff. Should be easy enough for you to take out.”

He could hear the smile in Rey’s voice. “Don’t worry about a thing, Commander. We’ve only gotten better since you last saw us.”

“Once I deal with the Council, I’ll help you clean up,” the Commander confirmed. “I don’t think it’ll take long. Most aren’t soldiers.”

“Don’t think it would matter one way or another,” Hamilton pointed out ruefully. “Not much you can do against someone who can lift you in the air with a thought.”

The Commander rolled his eyes, feeling their simultaneous amusement and trepidation at that. Showing it or not, they weren’t all entirely comfortable with the idea that he could lift things with a motion. “It doesn’t work quite like that,” he said. “And telekinesis is a lot more than just _thinking_ it. You’re confusing it with telepathy.”

“Weird all the same,” Hamilton answered, quickly raising a hand. “Uh, no offense, Commander.”

“None taken,” he answered as the skyranger began dipping. “I don’t expect everyone to be on board with the whole idea.”

“Well, if there’s anyone who I would trust to use strange magical abilities, it’d be you.” Sophie said.

He smiled at her. “Appreciated.”

 _“Coming in for a landing,”_ Big Sky said, the skyranger shuddered as it rested itself on the ground. _“Ramp deploying. Good luck, Commander.”_

With a hiss the ramp began lowering, and he stepped forward to begin his descent down. He turned back to his team waiting in the shadowed skyranger and gave them his salute. With no hesitation, they returned it and he turned back down to continue forward to the waiting Council.

***

Black clouds darkened the skies as the Commander strode forward through a light drizzle that was no doubt going to get worse. Of course it was raining. Fitting, he supposed, it was an accurate reflection about how this day was going to go. The Council Headquarters was a lot more modest than he’d expected. In terms of size, at least. It was definitely one of the most ornate places he’d seen, even from the outside with the elegant landscaping, marble pathways and fresh-looking paint.

Directly at the entrance stood four security guards, looking more nervous than they usually were, though if that was because of him or the alien invasion, he couldn’t say. Likely the latter, but in any event he knew that their Kevlar vests and ballistic weapons would offer them no protection against Ethan and his team.

Leaning against a pillar and protected from the rain, behind the guards, stood Tamara Vasilisa, the former CT agent-turned-diplomat and current Councilor of Russia. Excellent, just the person he wanted to see and who would likely give him an idea of what to expect.

One of the guards held up a hand. “ID?”

All of them knew he was the Commander of XCOM, but protocols were necessary and he handed his XCOM ID and badge to them. They clearly didn’t want to delay him and waved him through after a cursory glance. Now that he was near, he could definitely sense them better. They _were_ nervous, but not of him.

The aliens then. Made sense.

Tamara pushed herself upright from the pillar and approached him, stone-faced with concern. Not a good omen, for what little that mattered. “You took your time getting here,” she muttered as they began walking towards the doors. “I know your opinion of the Council, but now is _really_ not the time to be antagonizing them.”

“Relax,” the Commander told her calmly, pushing the door open. He found it interesting that she was dressed in a light bulletproof vest and bore the uniform of one expecting combat rather than one of a pure diplomat. He wouldn’t be surprised if they all were similarly prepared, especially given the circumstances. “I’m a little busy with the _invasion of Australia_ if you didn’t notice that. The Council is a secondary priority.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Commander…I respect you here. I’m one of the few that still do, but even you have to realize this has gotten much bigger than what you can handle. You may think you and your…fifty soldiers can somehow protect the entire world, but-“

“I know,” the Commander interrupted, raising a hand as they passed several wide-eyed aides. “And I’ve made preparations. Preparations I assume President Savvin has yet to inform you of?”

She blinked, shooting him a sharp and confused look. “Explain.”

It wasn’t a request, but at the moment it would have to be treated as one. “I’ll explain after the meeting. But trust me, I know that XCOM can’t handle everything. It’s impossible.”

“I know it isn’t ideal,” Tamara admitted, returning her attention forward. “But we have to leverage the UN the best we can. Like it or not, they are the best chance that exists to try and form some kind of cohesive defense-“

“No.”

“Unless you prefer the countries going on their own, then yes,” she continued, not missing a beat. “Or do you know something I don’t?”

“The latter,” he confirmed, following her lead as they stopped in front of an ornate door. “I came to the same conclusion you did. But unfortunately, I don’t have time to fix broken systems. _We_ don’t have time.”

She crossed her arms, fixing him with a piercing stare. “Commander, I don’t oppose radical changes, but the Council…I don’t think you know how bad it is now. Any support I, and you, had is pretty much gone. You’ve been too independent, you have too much history.”

The Commander sighed and rubbed his forehead. Well, he might as well know. Play along a little bit before it all went down. “How bad is it? Tell the truth.”

“They’re going to ask you to step down, firstly,” Tamara stated emotionlessly. “They have a majority and nothing is going to sway them. Agree and you might get an advising position in XCOM, maybe even retain some measure of command if you play your cards right. Refuse and they will arrest you here and now, and this time they _will_ execute you.”

Tamara was clearly expecting him to be somewhat worried, but all he did was raise an eyebrow. “Is that right?” He said, more curious than anything. “Tell me…do they really think that will work? Do they really think that XCOM is just going to accept that?”

Tamara pinched her nose, looking around to make sure they were alone. “I was afraid you were going to say that,” she muttered under her breath. “But think really carefully before you openly defy the Council. We need _unity_ now and the United Nations isn’t going away. I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m not sure that breaking away will be the best strategy. Because this time…if XCOM becomes a rogue organization…the Council _will_ go public with your identity.”

“Unsurprising,” the Commander commented. “But I’d like to know; how did it even get to this? Last I checked, there was more or less a stalemate.”

“It was after Herman gave his big speech and quit,” Tamara muttered. “One I agreed with, if I’m being honest. But it had the opposite effect he wanted. All it did was make the councilors feel insulted. No one likes being eloquently told they’re idiots. Then after the attack on the Citadel, it came to light that both Bradford and Van Doorn had been killed.”

She fixed him with a resigned stare. “Truthfully, Commander, that’s the main reason things are where they are. The only reason many agreed to let you work in peace was because they trusted Van Doorn, and to an extension, Bradford, to be a moderating influence. With them gone…your only known council is a radical scientist, a Chinese Triad leader and an elderly engineer.”

“I’m assuming they didn’t look at Central Officer Jackson,” the Commander muttered. “And for the record, Psion Patricia Trask is also in my council.”

“They don’t really expect you to promote people unless they agree with you to an extent,” Tamara pointed out. “Which is a legitimate concern.”

“If that were the case, I wouldn’t have put Van Doorn, Shen or Bradford on it,” the Commander stated, staring down at her. “But yes, it is a legitimate point, although one I contest.”

“And then there’s your alliances with…a large number of countries,” Tamara said slowly. “You do what you have to…but allying with the like of Iseul, Luana and Habicht isn’t doing you any favors. They’re dictators, or at least have the characteristics of some. There are quite a few who are worried about a power grab of sorts. And with XCOM refusing to condemn Israel…you can see the concern.”

“If you’re expecting me to have sympathy for the idiots who deciding provoking Israel was a good idea, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you,” the Commander stated icily. “Unless Israel gives me a reason not to support them, I hope that they end that war quickly. With Russian and American help, of course.”

“Look, I agree that the Middle East needs to be dealt with,” Tamara said in resignation, frowning. “But I’m telling you why the Council doesn’t feel like you’re the best choice to lead the defense of humanity.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander said with a nod, then looked toward the door. “I think I’ve kept them waiting long enough. Let’s go in. And…” he glanced over at her. “Follow my lead exactly. I have this under control.”

He sensed she was _highly_ skeptical of that claim, but elected not to follow up that particular statement. “Let’s go.”

***

It was more or less like what he’d pictured the actual Council Chambers to be like. A circular room which held the councilors above the lone stand in the middle. The desks themselves were a conjoined semi-circle, with the councilors spaced out between them. Nameplates were in front of the respective people, which was useful for him since some of the pronunciations were…unique.

Tamara walked up and quietly took her seat as the Commander weathered the unflinching gazes of all the councilors on him. The emotions in the air were mixed. Some were worried, others were sad, still more felt justified and satisfied. In any case he had few friends here. This wasn’t the meeting he had anticipated, it was a judgement.

One he suspected the verdict had already been decided upon.

Not that it mattered in the end. But he might as well be courteous for the time being. And try to refrain from resting his hand on his gauss pistol.

There was nearly a half minute of silence before the Speaker leaned forward, his fingers laced together with a gavel a few inches to his right. “Commander,” he began slowly. “Thank you for coming.”

The Speaker in person actually wasn’t too far from the silhouette he’d been used to. The Speaker was a bald man, with an older rounder face than he’d expected, with some wrinkles around the mouth and cheeks. His voice was still the deep baritone, even without the synthesizing. But now he distinctly looked resigned, which pretty much confirmed the worst was going to happen.

Still, his first choice of words were interesting. “Thank you, Speaker,” he answered, looking around the room. “Though I do believe I was the one who suggested this meeting. I thought it was time for something in-person.”

“And you still managed to be late,” Isabella Narmon, the UK councilor bit out. “Though I’m sure you’re aware that time is precious at this point.”

He gave her a smile which seemed to infuriate her. “Of course, councilor. Though considering the current crisis at the moment, that has to take priority for me. As I’ve said before, my focus is protecting humanity, not-“

“ _Quiet_.” Ennor practically spat, raising a hand. The man looked awful, and the Commander could completely understand why. Losing the entire country, no, _continent_ , to the aliens would take a toll on anyone, and he did feel a measure of sympathy for his family who he did sincerely hope were still alive. “You’ve made your feelings about the United Nations and this body _very_ clear.”

“And I’m afraid that we cannot allow you to operate in the haphazard and dangerous way you have been,” Councilor Adaora of Nigeria said, her voice hard as she looked down on him. “Your actions are divisive and antagonistic. Thanks to your actions, we now have China, Germany and Brazil working apart from us, major allies we _need_ in the coming fights. Your support for Israel is emboldening them to fight a pointless war at the _wrong time_ , as it is with Brazil.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “I make no apologies for those so-called _divisive actions_. Brazil’s collapse was due to EXALT meddling, China was simply reactionary and short-sighted and I shouldn’t have to remind you about how you attempted to dismantle Germany in an attempt to discredit _me_.” He raised a hand to forestall the coming comment. “Whether you realized your mistake later or not is irrelevant, you helped drive Germany to collapse and _I_ had nothing to do with it.”

He saw several councilors frown at that and exchange looks. Unsurprising, given that that particular operation hadn’t been approved by the whole Council, according to Ennor. It probably wouldn’t change minds, but it did feel good to say.

“Nevertheless, you took advantage,” Councilor Meredith of Canada stated. “A true subordinate of the Council would have encouraged these countries to rejoin the Council. Not simply gather them for his own cabal of rogue nations.”

“And there is your mistake,” the Commander said. “You fail to see that our relationship, specifically between XCOM and the Council, is strictly that of an ally. I have and will maintain that I am perfectly willing to work with you, but I’m under no obligation to make you stronger or encourage nations to capitulate to your ineffective and destructive leadership.”

That certainly didn’t win him any friends if the intakes of breath and stoney faces were anything to go by. Fair enough. “If you were so concerned about me gathering allies outside the Council, then maybe you should have asked them to join _you_. But no, that would never occur to you. The countries I decided to work with are too small, too _insignificant_ to compare to the world power your nations wield. You would never take Israel or North Korea because of your _pride_ , just as you would never take Taiwan or the countries of ASEAN because of your _cowardice_.”

Yes, there was definitely anger in the room now, and Tamara was staring at him in disbelief. Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to be this confrontational. “If you’re angry about that,” the Commander continued. _“Good_. You _should_ be. But actions speak louder than words, and unlike you, I actually follow through on what I believe. While you were obsessed with _me_ , I was focused on actually _uniting_ the world with one cause, and the only cause that matters.” He pointed upward. “Defending our species from the alien threat.”

“And in doing that you encouraged two wars, and the _entire_ continent of Australia is _wiped out_!” Ennor shouted, face pulsing red. _“You failed_ , Commander. If your goal was to _protect_ the world, then _you_ _failed_!”

“The first strike was _always_ going to be a failure,” the Commander insisted calmly, looking Ennor calmly in the eyes. “There was nothing you, or I, could do about that. It could have easily been Russia or Argentina who was the first victim, and they would have likely met the same fates. I am sorry about what’s happened, but this needs to be looked at objectively, not out of emotion.”

“Tell that to me when your home has just been destroyed!” He growled. “You had a directive and you failed. End of story.”

“No,” the Commander stated, growing more serious. “We are at war now, not just XCOM, but the world. Your authority over military matters is no more. You don’t know anything about strategy, tactics or actually _winning_ a war. _I do_. So let me _do my job_.”

“I’m afraid that there are going to have to be significant changes,” Councilor Lacy of France interrupted slowly, seemingly disturbed after what he’d said. “This war is no longer something that can be handled by one organization, even XCOM, wouldn’t you agree?”

He nodded towards her. “Certainly. I know XCOM can’t defend against this invasion alone.”

“Which is why XCOM is going to be turned over to direct UN control,” Lacy continued, watching him closely. “It will become an official public branch, and will act as the main army of the United Nations in conjunction with NATO.”

“Unfortunately, this will mean you cannot be the Commander of XCOM anymore,” Councilor Tiran of America said, admittedly looking unhappy. “So for the good of the world…we need to ask that you need to step down. I’m sorry, but do this, and we can discuss your role in this war, as we agree that you still have a place.”

About what he expected. Before he gave his answer, the Commander looked at Ennor. “Let’s say that I step down willingly. Why should I believe you? As I recall, the United Nations has not been entirely reliable when it comes to making deals with me. You even lied to me about being executed.”

“Because Councilor Tiran is right,” Ennor said grimly. “Like it or not, you are still too useful a resource to just throw away. But your place is not as someone who can actually affect the world as you have been. And because I hold to deals I make, but believe what you will.”

“However, refuse and there will be…issues,” Councilor Meredith warned. “We cannot have XCOM acting as a rogue organization, and you will be arrested when you leave here. The loyalty of your soldiers is a problem that will take some time to sort out, but I’m certain your internal council will comply when they learn who you are.”

The Commander smiled at him, chuckling. “I’m afraid not, Councilor. _They already know_. Bradford and Van Doorn knew as well, as I told them before the attack on the Citadel. And I _know_ they won’t just let me be taken away.”

That revelation appeared to take the councilors by surprise, except Meredith, who just narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps, assuming you aren’t lying. But it changes nothing.”

“Give us your answer, Commander,” the Speaker ordered, raising the gavel. “We cannot delay this any longer.”

“Very well,” the Commander took a breath. “No. I will not step down, and I will not surrender to the likes of you.”

He saw Ennor’s lips twitch, as he presumably struggled not to smile. “Your decision is noted. And this meeting is adjourned.”

The two guards at the end of the room began walking to him, presumably to escort him out. The Commander raised a hand, calling upon his power to make them stop in their tracks. The psionic energy wasn’t strong yet; they still had no idea, though he could sense the confusion of the soldiers. “Wait,” he said. “I do think I’m allowed to say one last thing.”

The Speaker nodded and motioned for the soldiers to remain stopped. With that the Commander released his power. “Go ahead, Commander.”

He smiled, and clicked the button on his wrist giving Ethan the signal. “Councilors, I think that you are unaware of why I actually called this meeting, and it wasn’t for the reason I gave.”

Ennor frowned. “And what other reason could there be?”

“To speak with you before I made my final decision,” the Commander answered. “To see if there was some way I could reasonably solve this situation. Unfortunately, that appears to be impossible.”

Lacy frowned. “You have the arrogance to believe that you could come here and _negotiate_ or _demand_ things from the _Council?”_

 “I had wondered,” the Commander agreed. “For what I’ve done, you owe me that much. But no, Councilor, I didn’t come here for that.”

Now everyone was confused. “I think we’ve heard enough from this,” Ennor said, narrowing his eyes. “Stop talking in riddles or leave.”

“It’s actually very simple, Councilors,” the Commander said smoothly, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “I am not here to _reason_ with you. I am not here to _negotiate_ with you. I am here to _kill_ you.”

Within an instant his hand had grabbed his pistol and he raised, aimed and fired. And the Council watched in shock as the Speaker’s head was blown apart by the gauss round. He turned around and shot the two guards, the magnetically-propelled rounds piercing their vests and helmets with ease, before turning back to the Council.

Now they were in a pure state of panic. Several of them were armed and were raising their weapons, while others were screaming and trying to hide. The Commander focused on Councilor Antonio of Mexico next and fired several rounds into him, sending his body collapsing back into the wall, blood spattering the desks and floor.

The Commander jumped forward towards the armed Councilor Lacy, an inhuman leap that they clearly hadn’t expected, given that he hadn’t told them about his genetic modification. He landed on top of her and quickly put a bullet through her head.

Two opposing sides. Now he gathered the power and focused it towards the two closest people, which happened to be Meredith and Councilor Kyo of Japan. His wrists became sheathed in distorted purple energy and they shouted as they were lifted in the air.

“He’s one of them!” Someone screamed, and he smiled.

He tossed Meredith towards several more councilors who were trying to flee, before turning his focus towards Kyo, concentrating the grip around his head with a twist of his hand, the head snapped sharply to the side and the Commander let him drop to the ground. Councilor Tiran was right behind him, a terrified expression on his face as he fired wildly towards the calm Commander.

The Commander extended a hand, directing his telekinetic grip towards the hand holding the pistol and twisted. Tiran screamed as his wrist was almost ripped off from being torn completely around. He fell to his knees, looking up just in time to see the Commander put a gauss round through his head.

He looked around, and focused on the group of councilors struggling to the door. He leapt towords them, cutting them off and causing them to stumble back in terror. “Alright, stop!” Councilor Adaora pleaded, tears running down her face. “We surrender! Please!”

“You don’t have to kill us!” Councilor Desta of Egypt insisted, face white as a sheet while he trembled. “We’re no threat! We’ll reconsider, I promise!”

The Commander pursed his lips. “The time for that is long passed. You signed your death sentence when you insisted I abandon XCOM.” With that he fired several rounds into each of their heads, ensuring that councilors Desta, Adaora and Kagiso would never serve again.

The Commander focused around the room, and sensed another councilor hiding under one of the desks and raised his pistol towards that spot and fired. A scream confirmed that he was killed. “Die! Monster!” He turned towards the shrill female voice just in time to see Councilor Isabella throw one of the wooden chairs at him; a pretty impressive throw, to be honest.

He raised a hand and telekinetically caught it, watching her face drop as she realized it hadn’t worked, then directed it back at her at a terminal velocity. The hard wood slammed into her face and crushed it in a spray of blood, cartilage and brain matter. One more down.

He caught a glimpse of Tamara huddled into a corner, trying to stay as out of it as possible. But she wasn’t a threat, not yet anyway. He leapt onto the elevated floor to hunt for the rest of them. He heard whimpering beneath one of the desks and fired until it stopped making noise. He glanced underneath and confirmed that Councilor Kanti of India was dead.

“You won’t get away with this,” Councilor Meredith breathed from the ground, his leg twisted at an odd angle. “The UN…they-“

He fired and ended his life. One left, by his count.

“He’s right,” the Commander turned to see Ennor standing against the wall, drained and defeated, accepting his fate. “You can’t win this. The UN will investigate. They will find you. And they will kill you like the monster you are. You’ve doomed the world with what you’ve done here.”

The Commander walked over to him, the same humorless smile on his face. “No, they won’t; no I haven’t and I’m going to tell you why.” He gestured at the carnage around the room. “The Council was never the whole issue. It was merely a symptom of another problem. One that is being cured at this very moment.”

His eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. “No…you can’t…”

“Today is the death of the United Nations,” the Commander stated, pointing a metallic finger towards him. “The end of a stagnant and threatening organization which cares more for politics and appeasement than the alien threat. There can be no united humanity when they exist. Which means they need to be removed and something else needs to be put in its place.”

The Commander lowered his hand. “You failed, Ennor. In attempting to destroy and discredit me, you’ve brought about the destruction of everything you care about. But before you die, know that I will win this war. Australia will be freed and the humanity will emerge stronger, safer and _united_.” He raised the pistol, looking into the hopeless face of Ennor before pulling the trigger. “But not with you.”

The shot rang out and Ennor slumped to the ground, the blood staining the walls. No longer was he the proud, haughty councilor, now he was just a broken dead man. And the thing was…he honestly wished there had been another way. As much of a piece of work Ennor was…he didn’t deserve to die. None of them did.

But unfortunately, there was no other way.

He turned back towards where Tamara was standing, pistol in hand, looking at him with a combination of horror, disbelief and fear. “You killed them…” she said numbly. “You really killed all of them.”

“I did,” he confirmed, stopping as her pistol twitched. “Relax. If I was going to kill you, you would be dead by now.”

“And why let me live?” She demanded.

“Because I don’t kill my allies,” the Commander said simply. “Russia was always an ally here, and I intend to respect that.”

“Did Savvin know?” She demanded, nodding towards the dead councilors. “Did he know you would do this?”

“He knew I had a plan for the United Nations and Council,” the Commander answered. “Not details. Only a few people knew the full extent.”

“Right,” she swallowed and holstered her pistol. “What happens…?”

The Commander turned to the door and motioned her to follow him. “This way,”

They pushed the doors open and stepped into the scene of a slaughter. The bodies of guards and aides littered the halls, their limbs splayed and twisted in unusual angles, their bodies mangled by the gauss weapons, their faces bearing expressions of surprise and shock.

“Take them outside,” the synthesized voice of Ethan ordered and he saw him with Travis and Rey directing a group of about seven aides and staff forward, most of them were crying and shaking in terror. Ethan strode towards the two of them, his voice synthesized by the helmet. “The defenses have been eliminated, Commander. I presume the Council is dealt with?”

“Correct,” the Commander said. “And are the charges set?”

“The others are working on that now,” Ethan confirmed. “I’m moving the prisoners outside to make disposal easier. I estimate no more than five minutes. This isn’t a large establishment and the bodies here are easily treated.”

“Finish up, then meet me outside,” the Commander ordered, moving towards the exit, Tamara at his side.

“You’re going to blow it all up,” Tamara muttered, looking somewhat shocked at the bodies she stepped over.

“Yes, though this will only be a footnote in history,” the Commander said. “As influential as the Council is, that influence is only known to a few. This will simply be another alien attack which only drove home their intentions towards us after the destruction of the United Nations.”

“So you really weren’t making that up,” she said in amazement. “How…”

He smiled as they stepped outside into a raging rainstorm. “The same as here. Gather the leaders in one place, have a few dedicated people and bring down the establishment. The difficulty of such acts is overestimated. The hard part is what comes after.”

“And what does come after?” She asked with trepidation as they walked towards about a dozen prisoners kept under watch by Travis and Rey. They were soaked now, but neither seemed to mind.

“The creation of the new United Nations,” he answered, observing the building with his hands clasped behind his back. “ADVENT. You will see soon, and it will accomplish what the United Nations could not.”

“And what of me?” She asked. “I might attract suspicion since several people do know my role here.”

“There are several options,” the Commander said, turning to her. “You could have your identity changed and work somewhere within ADVENT suitable for your diplomatic skills. Or you could join XCOM. You were a CT agent and by all accounts, a good one. If you wish to apply those skills again, there would be a place for you with XCOM.”

She swallowed, and looked to the building as Ethan and his team came out. “I’m clearly not a good diplomat, Commander,” she said, quietly enough that he had to strain to hear it through the sound of the downpour. “When it mattered, I simply didn’t have what it took. This here…it’s partially my fault. I could have done something different and I didn’t. Being a soldier is simpler; less chance of…this.” She turned to the Commander. “I’ll join XCOM, if you’ll allow it.”

He nodded. “Gladly. But remember that what happened here is not your fault. That lies squarely at the feet of the likes of Ennor and Meredith. There is no reason to feel guilt for what happened, and in the end, _I_ was the one to make the call, not you.”

She sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Charges are set,” Ethan confirmed, pulling out a trigger. “Watch the fireworks.” He pressed the button and the Council headquarters exploded in a brilliant explosion of shrapnel, fire and the symbiote substance, giving the solidification of an alien attack. The napalm his team had distributed around the building earlier would also ensure the fires would burn long through the rainstorm.

“Well done,” he said, turning to the remaining prisoners. “Dispose of them.”

“Kill them?” Ethan asked, raising his weapon.

“Yes,” the Commander agreed. They might have been useful for ADVENT or XCOM test subjects, but seeing as how their only crime was being at the wrong place at the wrong time, being condemned to that fate was not something they deserved.

“Form a line,” the Commander ordered his team, drawing his pistol. At this point, the captives were figuring out what was happening and their voices pleaded and begged for them not to do this. But it didn’t matter what they wanted, or even what he wanted.

What mattered was necessity, and necessity demanded these people die.

“Fire,” the Commander ordered, and shot his pistol at a young woman, the first of them to fall dead. Within seconds the gauss rounds tore through their unprotected bodies and they collapsed in a heap of blood, bones and flesh.

“Clean this up,” he ordered with cold efficiency, and they began doctoring the bodies to make it seem like they had been killed by alien weaponry, or otherwise just torching the bodies. And with the building burning in the background, the rain pouring down and the bodies around him, he could rest assured that the first part of the Demeter Contingency had been completed.

The Council had been dealt with.

Now it was up to Zhang and XCOM Intelligence.

***

_United Nations Headquarters, New York_

Abby pulled out her rifle and slung it over her shoulder. That particular motion would generally not get any attention, as she was officially part of the security here and the United Nations was holding a general assembly at the moment, to discuss the response to the alien attack in Australia. All part of the plan, and she now had to do her part.

First, she needed to gain control of the security cameras and lockdown permissions. Something she’d planned out extensively and knew exactly how to accomplish. For a place with so much significance, they made the same problem with their security most did: Having it in one area.

Granted, the area was a bit larger than normal, but not enough to make her job difficult. She glanced behind her to see Ciro, her partner on this op, also preparing. “Ready?”

“Ready as can be,” he answered with a nod. “Let’s go.”

Personally, Abby was somewhat nervous, because if their next contact was delayed, it would be…problematic. The method that would be used to neutralize the entire building was extremely effective, but very, _very_ dangerous, and she knew better than anyone here how bad it could get.

But then again, she was the one responsible for dispersing the gas, so it wouldn’t start without her.

They stepped into the elevator and pressed the button taking them to the floor the building was on. _“Going up,”_ the pleasant female voice said.

“Just to be clear,” Ciro said under his breath. “We don’t need them alive?”

She fixed him with a cold glare. “We’ve been over this. No. We don’t.”

He swallowed. “Got it.”

The door opened with a pleasant _ding_ and they stepped out into the busy hallway and began walking to the security room. They had appropriate clearance so they simply presented their badges to the guards standing in the hallway. “Expecting trouble?” One of them asked, half-joking.

Abby shrugged. “If the aliens can attack Australia…well, they could attack here.”

The second guard sighed. “Good point. Glad you’re making sure that doesn’t happen.”

“It’s my job,” she said, taking her badge back and continuing onward.

First door on the right was security and camera footage. They likely wouldn’t need their guns for this, since it was a smaller room. They opened the unlocked door to reveal a room with a dozen monitors spread out, with bored guards pretending to watch the footage.

One looked up, dark bags under his eyes indicating he was exhausted. “Yes? Who are you?”

“Inspecting,” Abby said, not actually answering the question as she took a look around. Six personnel. Doable. “Just making sure everything is working.”

He shrugged and looked back at his screen, which happened to be on the General Assembly itself. She nodded toward Ciro who moved to another analyst, to presumably ask a question. She leaned down as if to do the same, pointing to the screen. “Everything functioning?”

“Yes-“ he began, just before she stabbed a knife into his throat, cutting off whatever he was going to say. She held the blade in as the blood spurted out, coating her hand and his uniform. With her other hand she clasped over his mouth, preventing him from making any noise. A few seconds later she let him slump forward gently and glanced around quickly.

Good, no reaction and Ciro had performed similarly. She moved to the next target, a woman who was watching the lobby with a bored expression on her face. Abby didn’t bother asking a question and clamped a hand over her mouth and slit her throat with one smooth motion.

She’d never imagined she’d be using her surgical skills like this, but she’d cut well and the woman fatally bled out very quickly. Abby supposed it helped that they wore headphones to get the best audio, though it blocked outside sounds pretty easily.

Ciro had also killed another, which left only two. With as little ceremony as the first two, she walked up behind the man and performed the same act as she had on the woman, and slit his throat then held him until he stopped moving.

“All done,” Ciro said, pushing the corpse onto the ground and kneeling down to pull out his EMP charge. She did the same and placed it on the computers closest to her. Not that it would make much of a difference, but she figured she might as well destroy the wiring itself beyond repair and pulled everything apart that she could.

“Let’s step outside now,” Abby suggested, leaning down to wipe the blood off her gloves as best she could. She really wished she’d brought a second pair now since the literal feeling of blood on her hands was thoroughly unpleasant. Unfortunate, but she’d be ditching this uniform soon anyway.

They stepped outside and she pressed the detonator. There was no sound, of course, but she did observe the cameras suddenly blinking off. Abby smiled. Excellent, one part down, now to lock down the rest of the building. She clicked a button on her wrist to let the rest of the agents on this mission know they were clear to execute their orders.

“Now the guards,” Ciro said, referring to the two guards that had cleared them. Even with suppressors on their rifles, Abby knew the sound would attract their attention and she didn’t want them calling backup.

She walked to the end of the hallway just before the corner. “Hey, could you help me?”

One of them sighed and began jogging to her. “Yes?” He asked as he got closer, rounding the corner.

She pointed at the now defunct camera. “Shouldn’t that be working?”

He blinked. “Huh, yeah, it should be. Hold o-“

He gasped as Abby stabbed him in the throat with her knife, grabbed his vest and swung him towards the nearby wall, pinning him to it with a dull thud as he slowly bled out, disbelief in his eyes as she kept pressure on the wound.

“Hey, we need help!” Ciro called to lure the final guard over.

She paid no attention to the sound of footsteps running over, nor the sudden gasp of “What?” just before Ciro killed him as well. Once she was certain the man in front of her was dead, she reached up and pulled his eyelids shut, stood and sighed. “Done. Let’s lock this place down.”

The final place they had to go was actually the third door on the left, which controlled everything else of import to the building. Namely the elevators, doors and alarms. Abby realized that by destroying everything in the security room, she had also likely disabled more sophisticated communication between the remaining guards. Quite a few people were probably going to be wondering why the Wi-Fi was down.

Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to call for help.

She opened the door to the room and stepped in. “Security issue,” she declared upon entry. “Who’s in charge?”

“I am,” a middle-aged woman stood up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Is there a problem?”

“Potentially,” Abby confirmed. “We might need to lock the building down. Security cameras just went down across the building.”

The other seven people in the room gasped and exchanged worried glances. “Security’s been notified,” Abby continued, wondering how long the ruse could be pushed. “But we need to act for the safety of everyone here.”

“Al-alright,” the woman stuttered, clearly shaken. “But I need to contact your superior-“

“All you’re going to do is waste time,” Abby growled, stepping forward. “I was just in the security room. Everything’s fried, _including_ communication with the outside. He sent _me_ to tell you, so unless you want to be responsible for a catastrophe _lock the building down_.”

“Right, right, sorry,” she stuttered, motioning her over to a console and began typing. “Should I sound the alarm?”

“Lock it down first,” Abby ordered, taking a good look at the console. Good, everything was marked to easily be set or reversed. The woman complied, flipping each floor to a state of locked and protected.

“Done,” she declared, moving to hit the alarm. “Tell him-“

She never finished as Abby blew her head off with her rifle and Ciro acted just as quickly, executing the two closest to him in quick succession. Abby instantly turned around and shot the first surprised, then terrified woman behind her, and her colleague sitting next to her. Ciro executed two more and Abby shot the last one in the head right before he was likely going to plead for his life.

It all happened within thirty seconds. Quick, precise and efficient.

And sickening.

But she had to ignore those feelings. A lot more people were going to die by her hand today, and theirs would be far more horrible. “Let’s go get our suits,” Abby said, unlocking the elevator which would take them to the ventilation control. And get the key so this is locked.

Ciro rummaged around the dead administrators pockets and pulled out a string of keys. “Got it,” he said. “Though we really should have someone here to watch it.”

“This floor is locked down,” Abby said. “No one is getting in here.”

“There are still other people on this floor,” Ciro reminded her.

Abby sighed. “Correct, but they can’t change anything now. We lock this door and head to ventilation. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and found the key to lock the door.

Abby sent the second signal to the rest of the agents, and together they rushed to the ventilation area, where their next team member was waiting to help.

***

_United Nations Headquarters, Ventilation Control_

“Perfect timing,” Agent Boran complimented as they rushed up. He was already in his gear. Unmarked XCOM Aegis armor that would provide protection from the gas that was about to be unleashed. “You both did well. Any trouble getting here?”

“None,” Abby said, shaking her head and immediately taking off her vest to get fitted into her own Aegis armor. “Everyone is confused, but calm. For now, and I don’t think that will last. But we have control here.”

“I’ll be heading down to control the lockdown directly again,” Ciro added as he also stripped and began fitting into the armor. “I see you got everything in alright.”

“Of course I did,” Boran stated, apparently surprised that was a concern. “As long as the manifests are in order and the documents are signed, people really don’t give trouble. Easy enough to smuggle the armor in…and the gas, of course.”

His voice became subdued as he finished. Abby had a good idea why. Of all the ways to die, Sarin gas was probably one of the worst. But of the agents she had researched, it was one of the most efficient and easiest to disperse. And speed and efficiency was what they needed now.

Once the gas was dispersed, everyone in the building would be dead within twenty minutes at most. Probably sooner since this particular batch was as pure as it came.

She flipped the black helmet in her hand and placed it over her head and heard it seal with a soft click. She really did like being back in armor again, and it was definitely an improvement from the previous iteration. The HUD booted up and immediately identified both agents, as well as schematics of the building.

Showtime.

“Where did you put the canisters?” She asked.

He motioned her to follow to one of the vents, one of which was open and primed for dispersion, the canisters were set in two neat rows beside it. “This is the master vent. We put it through this at full blast, and the entire building will be flooded. We have more than enough.”

“Ciro, get back to the lockdown room,” she ordered, lifting one of the canisters and attaching a nozzle to it. “Boran, turn on the vents on my mark.”

“Copy,” he said, and walked over to the station. “Ready and waiting.”

Keeping an eye on the canister pressure, she then went forward with the next steps of the protocol, setting her helmet to the correct channel. “This is Agent Gertrude. Gas dispersal imminent. Prepare to move forward.”

 _“In position,”_ one voice identified.

 _“Ready and waiting,”_ another said.

 _“Outside is under control, will send in the team on my mark,”_ the familiar voice of Patricia said. _“Outside security is dealt with, and rest are unconscious.”_

“Copy that,” Abby said. “Commencing dispersal.” She nodded toward Boran and he turned on the vent to roughly half-blast while she released sprayed the gas into the vents. To any observer, it would look like she was spraying nothing, but if they paid close attention they would notice small distortions around the nozzle.

Pure Sarin gas was odorless and colorless. No one would see the deadly gas come upon them, nor smell it. There was a reason it was a banned substance, but a highly effective one.

The canister ran out and she quickly switched to the next one and continued dispersing it into the vent. She repeated the process for each canister, taking about one minute for each. She had estimated it would take at least twenty gallons to properly kill everyone in the building, so she’d elected to ensure there would be twenty five. With each tank containing two and a half gallons, it should take her ten minutes, which would allow plenty of time for dispersal.

“Dispersion complete,” she announced, tossing the canister away. “Moving to ensure the General Assembly is taken out.”

 _“Confirmed,”_ Patricia acknowledged. _“Teams are setting charges now. Ciro, remove lockdown for back entrance.”_

_“Affirmative, Psion.”_

Abby stood and grasped her gauss rifle. “Let’s go,” she told Boran who followed her as they walked out of the room. They stepped out into a bloodless warzone. Corpses of the various people on this floor surrounded them, most clutching their throats or curled into balls on the floor. Abby didn’t bother to ensure they were dead. Sarin didn’t leave survivors, even if there’d been medical staff on site.

Abby grimaced as she stepped over the corpse of a young woman who had been trying to claw her way to the exit. The carnage didn’t stop there either. A dead elderly couple were seated on chairs; two businessmen passed out on the ground; a couple both holding onto each other just before expiring. Abby gritted her teeth and pressed on.

“Unlock elevator three,” she said as they walked into it. “Then prepare to unlock the general assembly doors.”

 _“Copy,”_ Ciro answered and they stepped into the elevator and she pressed the floor they were going to.

 _“Going down,”_ the infuriatingly pleasant voice said. As if everything was alright.

“Don’t dwell on it,” Boran said, guessing at what she was thinking. “We did what we had to. You were under orders.”

“I know,” she said quietly, staring aimlessly into the silver doors. “But I’m not going to forget what I’ve done here. They deserve that much.”

She wasn’t entirely sure, but she suspected that her kill count might now rival the Commander. At the very least she had become one of the most dangerous perpetrators of state-approved terrorism.

All for the greater good.

The door _dinged_ open and she stepped out to see that the Sarin gas had yet to fully complete its task here. If Hell existed, she was certain that some of it would be like this. The screams, pleas and sobs of men, women and children permeated the air, as people gasped, wheezed and choked around them.

Dozens writhed on the ground, others struggled for the exit, only collapsing after the gas took a deeper hold on them. Still more were already slumped to the ground, a firearm or knife in their hand as they’d killed themselves rather than suffer any longer.

Their arrival barely caught the attention of the dying crowd, blinded as they were by their own pain. “Help us!” A woman pleaded, stumbling toward them, coughing as she struggled for one breath.

And Abby did. She really wanted to.

But those weren’t her orders.

There was only one way she could help the woman. She raised her rifle and fired a round at her head, sparing her from a slow, suffocating death. Realizing that they weren’t here to help, the crowd that had managed to notice them stumbled back, trying to flee from the soldiers clad in black. Abby didn’t bother asking for directions to the general assembly. She knew the schematics.

“Lock down the elevator,” she ordered. “And release the lockdown on the general assembly.”

“ _Affirmative,”_ Ciro answered quietly.

Abby kept going forward, then stopped at the sight of a knot of dead children in front of her. A school tour group if their uniforms were anything to go by. Just taking a field trip to see the place where world leaders met. All dead now, collapsed over each other, one by a teacher who had wrapped a jacket around his face in a vain effort to prevent him from breathing the gas.

They’d probably died quickly.

Not that it was any consolation to her.

Tears pricked her eyes that she was unable to wipe away now, blurring her vision as she looked upon the corpses of the children she’d killed. She wanted to look away, purge it from her mind. But she couldn’t. She _needed_ to remember. Remember what she’d done here, use it to never forget what the price of victory and necessity was.

“Agent Gertrude…” A tentative voice asked, and a hand was laid on her shoulder. She looked back to see Boran staring at her through his helmet. “We have a mission to complete,” he finished quietly. “Keep it together a little longer, alright?”

At least he wasn’t diminishing what she was feeling here. And he was right. They had to make sure the General Assembly was dead. She blinked to clear away the tears and gripped her weapon firmly once more. “Yes sir. Let’s get this done.”

She really should have cut her external audio feed. It would have made it easier. But it would have been wrong to diminish the consequences of her actions here. So she listed.

She listened to the dying gasps, screams and sobs of hundreds around her.

She pushed past those stumbling, pleading for help.

She executed those crawling toward her, the only form of mercy she could display.

They stood in front of the general assembly and pushed it open to behold the mass of representatives, negotiators and politicians all in the same dying state as those outside. But they were in the last stages before death. Many were already lying on the floor, sightless eyes looking forward.

She actually recognized several of the people in the pool of corpses, their faces contorted in pain and suffering. No one here would die a peaceful death. As more and more fell over dead, Abby pulled out her symbiote grenade and tossed it on several of the corpses. Boran followed her lead, and dropped several more throughout the room. If anyone managed to recover anything, they would find the clear evidence of alien meddling.

And direct their righteous fury at the aliens.

“Symbiote grenades planted,” Abby stated, pulling out the next tool. A new high-powered explosive referred to as X-4, specifically designed for destroying established structures. And it would need to be placed in specific places. So they did so, sticking the explosive where the schematics were marked.

“X-4 charges planted,” Abby said, looking around. “All of the general assembly is dead.”

 _“Return to exit coordinates,”_ Patricia instructed. _“The rest of the teams are finished. Rendezvous at the pre-assigned coordinates.”_

“Copy,” Abby confirmed and they existed that room and made their way back through the floor. Everyone had died now. All that were left were corpses of hundreds of personnel, aides and civilians. At least there were no more sounds.

So they just kept walking, right until they reached the exit and pushed it out and stepped into the cool night air.

It looked so peaceful. The lights of New York City twinkled around her as they made their way to the skyranger waiting for them. The others were there, already boarded.

“Everyone is here,” Patricia confirmed. “Detonating charges.”

A rumbling boom reached her ears, and she watched the United Nations Headquarters, seen by some as the symbol of global unity, collapse in front of her in a mix of steel, fire and rubble. The thundering crash was almost deafening, but then faded. With that the skyranger closed the ramp and they lifted up, then spent the journey in silence.

It was done.

The leadership of the United Nations was dead, and the collapse of the rest of it would be inevitable.

And she was a vital instrument of its destruction.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she looked over to see it came from Patricia, who gave her a small nod. No words needed to be exchanged, Patricia likely knew how she was feeling, and was one who might be able to comprehend the burden all on board this skyranger now felt.

They were XCOM. They did whatever it took to protect humanity, no matter the cost.

Even if their own humanity was sacrificed in the process.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 0: Declaration and Overview

Subsection 0.1: Introduction and Purpose

_Introduction_ : With the arrival of extraterrestrial beings to our planet, we recognize that we must adapt to these changes before it is too late. The world has been splintered over various conflicts of religious, political and ideological natures, and ADVENT recognizes that these divisions are detrimental to the future of our species.

We cannot afford to fight one another, human against human. For decades the world had held certain nations, cultures and people on pedestals, yet refused to offer the same to other countries. Ignorance and lying were allowed in the name of freedom. Corruption and broken promises became the laws on the land. The nations of the world were only focused on their own ambitions, not for the greater good of our species

ADVENT rejects these failings and will seek to correct the mistakes of the past and bring our species into the future, united as one voice, one force, and one power. ADVENT will not uplift some countries while leaving others behind; all are equal and have one voice from which to voice the needs of their nation.

Ignorance will be replaced with knowledge, and those who intentionally attempt to deceive or lie will no longer be tolerated. The leaders of the world will be held accountable for their decisions, and corruption and greed will be purged from the governing body of ADVENT. Most important of all, there will be a singular vision that all in ADVENT share: The prosperity, security, and advancement of humanity.

 _Purpose:_ The goals of ADVENT are to enact the three core tenets of ADVENT: Prosperity, Security and Advancement.

 _Prosperity_ : Under ADVENT, citizens will no longer need to fear living without basic human necessities. All have a place within ADVENT, be that as a private citizen or in service to the State. Schooling will be free, allowing children to follow their purpose without fear of crippling debt. Medicine and healthcare will be provided to those who require it, and in time, the ills of poverty will be reduced to nothing. Law-abiding citizens under ADVENT will have a quality of life far beyond what they have experienced before, and ADVENT is dedicated to seeing this become a reality.

 _Security_ : Under ADVENT, citizens will be protected from threats beyond simply petty crime. The ADVENT Peacekeepers will no longer be a reactionary form or law enforcement, but one that proactively hunts down major threats to the State and its citizens. Dissent which poses a violent threat to the ordinary citizen will no longer be tolerated and will be put down and will help actively suppress dangerous ideologies.

ADVENT Peacekeepers will receive highly specialized training, and will have oversight from military, internal and civilian branches to prevent abuses of power, all abuses of which will be taken seriously in our goal to truly protect the citizens under ADVENT. Criminal justice will no longer be a process that takes years, and judgements will be handed down based on evidence, facts and science, not fear, wealth or public opinion. Prisoners will no longer simply be a burden on the taxpaying citizen, but will become a productive force utilized by the State for maximum efficiency.

Furthermore, the ADVENT military will protect its citizens from the greater threats, be they alien or terrestrial. ADVENT soldiers will be highly trained and drawn from the best our society has to offer, and will be the most advanced military force on this planet. ADVENT’s military leaders will no longer be bound by decisions of international bodies, but will be free to defend ADVENT’s citizens the best that it can with no fear of international condemnation. ADVENT will not tolerate systemic abuses of power by foreign nations on its citizens, and will intervene at the discretion of ADVENT’s military body, and the Chancellor of ADVENT.

 _Advancement:_ Under ADVENT, there will be no dismissal or ignorance of the sciences which propel our species forward. Various scientific groups will be funded for both military and civilian purposes, and will all have the underlying goal of increasing the overall quality of life for all citizens in ADVENT.

Renewable solutions, genetic engineering, cloning, disease and medical research will all be initiatives undertaken and supported by the ADVENT, be they independent or State-sponsored. Military initiatives undertaken will be enhanced weaponry, chemical warfare and cleanup, and alien biological analysis and utilization.

It is also understood by ADVENT that scientific advancement comes with certain risks and needs, which is why ADVENT will fully support the usage of animal and specific human testing to help refine and improve the various projects undertaken within ADVENT, all of which will be heavily monitored to prevent unethical experimentation. In addition, scientists under ADVENT will not have certain projects restricted based on ethics, resources or apparent legality as all projects will first be approved by the ADVENT Research and Development agency.

Table of Contents:

SECTION 0: Declaration and Overview

SECTION 1: Organization and Structure

SECTION 2: ADVENT Congress of Nations

SECTION 3: ADVENT Judicial Courts

SECTION 4: ADVENT Executive Branch

SECTION 5: ADVENT Agencies

SECTION 6: ADVENT Intelligence

SECTION 7: ADVENT Peacekeeping Division

SECTION 8: ADVENT Military

SECTION 9: Relations with Foreign Nations

SECTION 10: Guidelines for Extraterrestrial Civilizations


	3. Unification Day

 

_Forward Observation Station, Mars Orbit_

_“Emergency crews are continuing to sweep the wreckage of the collapsed headquarters. To date there have been no confirmed survivors, and we have just been updated that multiple United Nations offices across the world have been destroyed. We continue-“_

Swipe right.

_“The immediate impact of the sudden loss of any sort of United Nations command structure has sent shockwaves throughout the world, even as the aliens continue to land in Australia. With no world leadership structure, the question is now how an effective defense can be mounted-”_

A good question. Swipe right.

_“We’re now receiving reports of multiple world leaders preparing for some major event. Details are still coming in, but it appears to be a response to the alien attack this morning on the United Nations leadership. Currently Presidents Treduant and Savvin are confirmed to be attending as well as Chancellor Habicht of Germany and…uh…”_

_“We will be right back before we confirm further.”_

It was infuriatingly going like he’d expected. Swipe right.

_“XCOM has yet to make an official statement, but we have confirmation that they will be addressing both their plans to assist in handling Australia, and their response to these attacks on the United Nations.”_

_“Yes, and everything points to them also attending this announced event with what appears to be the national leadership of United Nations countries. There is a strong likelihood that this will be the first public appearance of the Commander of XCOM, who has been one of the most obscure figures in the world scene to date.”_

“Off,” he ordered, and the holographic screens displaying the multiple human networks flashed off, letting him stare blankly into the red sand of the planet below him. Mars, so the humans called it. Named after a human deity of war, according to the history he’d read on them. Rather fitting, if he was being honest, and rather ironic that the grand strategy of the war was to be waged from here.

Even more intriguing was that despite the humans never setting foot on this planet, there was clear evidence of previous civilizations. Or previous watchers, which only added to his theory that this entire situation was not nearly as much of a surprise to the Ethereals as they were letting on. While Quisilia was irritatingly vague about what exactly _had_ comprised the Ethereal Empire before their fall, he wouldn’t have been surprised if at one point this was an Ethereal installation.

Which would explain how they knew about the humans. The question was, of course, how long they had known.

And _if_ they had known, why didn’t they act before now?

Dangerous thoughts. Especially since Mars was not the only planet in this system to contain obscure and dilapidated outposts and equipment. Pluto, Venus and Jupiter had all at one point been held by _someone._ But he supposed it didn’t matter; whoever it was, they were long gone now. But it would make for an interesting project after the Humans were assimilated.

Regardless, it was very clear that the Humans were going to make this as difficult as possible for them. All signs pointed to a unification, and if these planted attacks were any indication, the Commander was not concerned about it being a peaceful one. For it _was_ the Commander who had to be behind this.

He was of the opinion that the Commander was the sole reason why the Humans were in this fight to begin with. Or at least how they’d survived so long without collapsing under their incredibly divided and schizophrenic political and cultural structures. The Commander reminded him of the old Union Leaders of the Andromedons; brutal, uncompromising, charismatic, intelligent and incredibly dangerous.

Although now he doubted the Commander, nor XCOM, was working on their own. He had no doubt been recruiting allies and the chances of the traitorous EXALT being involved was high. He sniffed at the thought. EXALT had been handled exceptionally poorly and bluntly, though that could all boil down to the Ethereals deciding they knew better.

And maybe they did, but from where he stood, things were not looking as successful as they could have been.

He heard the barrier dissipate behind him and he turned around to see his Vitakarian assistant walk in, her steel gray skin dully reflecting the pale light off her scalp. He frowned, her eyes seemed a less vibrant blue than it should be. Likely the oxygen levels fluctuating again, he’d have to look into that later.

“Zar’Chon,” she greeted stiffly, which immediately told him that she was nervous. He resisted the urge to sigh. Why they insisted on sending newer recruits than the veterans he’d requested was something he’d have to speak to his staff about. It was entirely possible that one or more of the Ethereals was intervening, since that seemed to be what they enjoyed doing most nowadays.

Hands still clasped behind his back, he inclined his head. “Zar’gamlia’usar, correct?”

She blinked. “Yes, though you can-“

“Gamlia then,” he interrupted, knowing what she was going to say. “I’m not normally this blunt, but we do have a mission to subdue and assimilate a hostile species. What exactly do you have for me?”

To her credit, she held together under his bluntness, as he should expect from one of the Zararch. “The latest plans from the Battlemaster regarding the status of the invasion and captured continent,” she pulled a small data drive and handed it to him. “In addition, the latest Zararch reports from our agents in the Collective are on it as well.”

“Thank you,” he answered, turning away. “Dismissed.”

He didn’t bother to see if she’d actually left. When his agents heard his orders, they followed. Time to see exactly what the Battlemaster was planning for Earth. He walked over to the small cylinder that stood in the middle of his briefing room and stuck the drive into it.

The holographic words _“Authorization required.”_ Popped up as usual. A necessary security measure, but one that was irritating most of the time. He held his right hand over the cylinder and let it scan the gray skin of his palm. The hologram then updated with the regular _“Identification accepted: Zar’Chon’ravarian’vitiary.”_

That out of the way, Zar’Chon Ravarian twisted his left wrist around and slid the small metal panel to the side and pressed the button that synched the augmented arm with the data from Gamlia’s drive. It flashed blue, he shut the panel, turned his wrist back over and opened up the holographic projector on his palm.

The file list came up and he quickly scrolled through it, once more thankful for his neural implants to perform the mundane acts like scrolling and selection and not have to do it manually. If that were the case, then there was very little point to using holograms for information. Still, it was going to take some time to go through everything.

Then he got that feeling again.

He could never figure out if it was just a strange extra sense he had, or if it was just Quisilia toying with him every time he decided to talk. “The Battlemaster is planning to first strike the land the Humans call _Japan_ ,” Ravarian said out loud, knowing the Ethereal would emerge sooner or later. “Battle strategy up now.” With his free hand he took the appropriate hologram and amplified it independent of the one on his palm.

The utterly silent Ethereal stepped out directly in front of him as if emerging from nothing, though by now, he knew better. His purple robe with the embroidered gold lines and patterns was as immaculate as ever, housing his entire body inside. The helm that the all Ethereals were so fond of was as polished as ever, a smooth blend of weak metal that extended below the neck into the robe, and formed into curves on the top, which also curved down over the eyes. What made Quisilia’s helm more unique than others was that the lower face was exposed, though he suspected that in battle, some covering would come down.

Which made it all the more disconcerting when Quisilia elected not to speak verbally. He tended to speak verbally for the most part, but definitely wasn’t above switching it up. Ravarian fixed him with a stare. “How long were you standing there?”

“Since the young Vitakara entered this room,” he answered, his low baritone accompanied by a rasping whisper at the end of each word. Tame by Ethereal standards. “And her presence here was nothing more than an error. I do not intend to make your job difficult.”

Ravarian nodded. “Good. Then I assume you’re up to date on the situation on Earth?”

Quisilia walked around to face the hologram, his footsteps making no noise. “Are you referring to our invasion or “our” attacks on the Human United Nations?”

“Both.”

“The Commander continues to surprise me,” Quisilia mused, pulling up the hologram of a muted Human news station. “His methods continue to show he will do whatever it takes to beat us. Admirable, and yet predictable.”

Ravarian frowned. “This is not new to us. I suggested we remove him after he played the German country against us. But as you told me, there are ‘plans.’” He motioned at the hologram. “With all due respect, we need to act, otherwise he is going to unite the Human nations into a true fighting force.”

Quisilia looked at him. _And you believe the humans are that great of a threat?_

“Only if we let them become one,” Ravarian answered, resisting the urge to react to the unnatural telepathy. “They killed the Ravaged One. That shouldn’t have happened. I know that you portray yourselves as invincible, but both of us know that isn’t the case. The Humans should not have been able to kill him.”

“The death of the Ravaged One was a necessary evil,” Quisilia said, not looking away. “But I agree. Unfortunately, assassinating the Commander is out of the picture.”

“Why?” He asked in disbelief.

“Before I answer, I will reiterate that nothing will be shared beyond us without my authorization,” Quisilia said, the helmeted eyes boring into him. “Aegis has defected to XCOM.”

That…had to be…bad? Although there was one problem. “Who, or what is Aegis?” He asked, puzzled. From the sound of it, it could be one of the many secret projects the Ethereals ran, or it could be one of the Andromedons. It probably wasn’t anything from the Zararch, otherwise he’d know about it.

“An Ethereal,” Quisilia answered simply. “One of our most influential.”

He was unable to keep a neutral expression, and his jaw lowered slightly. An Ethereal defecting wasn’t just _unthinkable_ …it should have been _impossible_. He’d long suspected that the Ethereals weren’t as united as they’d let on…but he’d had no idea that it had been so divided to the point where one of their own would betray them.

 _For good reason,_ Quisilia communicated. _The disputes of our species would not be comprehended by the assimilated races. And the betrayal caught even us by surprise._

Ravarian took a breath. Just one. “I see. That…complicates things.”

“Yes, the plan has changed,” Quisilia agreed. “But we are not concerned. We believe Aegis defected for…ideological reasons. He will not kill an Ethereal.”

“But he _will_ kill Collective soldiers, give XCOM our technology, and protect the Humans,” Ravarian pointed out grimly. “I can’t say for sure since this is the first I’ve heard of him, but is that incorrect?”

“Our numbers can be replaced,” Quisilia dismissed, telling him all he needed to know. “Ultimately, this is irrelevant and will only delay us. The overall goal has not changed, but our immediate plans have. Before the anti-alien sentiment gets out of hand, I want the Zararch to make contact with pro-alien organizations or ones that can be swayed to us.”

About time. He’d only suggested that plan from the beginning. Better late than never though. “Of course. I have some targets in mind.” Ravarian pulled up a holographic globe and pointed to one of the continents. “This is South America, and thanks to EXALT, they have incited the country of Brazil to invade several nearby nations. Reading the psychological profile of the Human in charge, she is aggressive, easily manipulated and has a tendency to take a military approach.”

“We provide protection,” Quisilia mused. “A good start. What of the conflict in the Middle East?”

“Too ineffective,” Ravarian disagreed immediately. “There are too many nations interested in control for any sort of operation to be successful. A better target would be to attempt to take control of the Chinese criminal organizations.”

“That did not work last time, if I recall.”

“I made unfortunate assumptions about the species,” Ravarian admitted. “Mistakes I’ve learned from and will not repeat. But while I oversee those operations, the Battlemaster will conduct the ground campaign.”

“To great effect, I’m sure,” Quisilia said, turning lazily to look down on Mars. “What of the infiltrator you placed in XCOM?”

Ah, right. That was another mission that was past its time to end. “Nartha will be arriving within a few days. Gateways have not been established on Earth yet.”

“It is possible they won’t be for some time,” Quisilia warned. “With Aegis defecting, our normal strategies will need to be adapted or cut. But it is good to hear he will be returning…I will look forward to examining him.”

“In the meantime, it appears that the Humans are going to make an announcement about their defense against us,” Ravarian said, bringing the muted hologram to face him. “Let’s see what their plans are.”

***

_Geneva, Switzerland_

Saudia stood in front of the mirror, uncharacteristically…not nervous…but apprehensive. For the first time she was going to address the world. Not the small council she’d kept in EXALT, but millions of regular people across the world.

It highlighted just how much she’d hadn’t actually expected to take EXALT to the place it was now. It had been her goal, but now she was like the dog who’d caught the car it was chasing. Now she had to decide what to do with it. Thankfully, that was the easier part. But speaking to the world, as the voice of ADVENT? That was sticking out in her mind as much harder.

Not the least of which is that her emergence would no doubt bring questions. Questions she’d already heard whispered by the staff around her.

_Who is she?_

_Where did she come from?_

_Why is she in charge?_

_Why are we trusting her?_

_Because the Commander of XCOM trusts her._

She snorted. How ironic that the main reason that people seemed to be willing to give her the benefit of the doubt was because of the Commander. Who she _did_ admittedly owe her position to. She disliked the feeling of being indebted to him, but he’d made it clear he’d only put her in charge because of pure practicality.

She agreed with his reasoning…but knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to remove her if she suddenly posed a threat to him. He didn’t appear to expect her to act like a debt was owed, so she’d done her best to consider everything between them even.

It never would be, but she could try.

In the meantime, the entire planning of this event had been an experience for her. It was…interesting to interact with people on her level that weren’t part of EXALT. People like Gwan, Treduant, Habicht and Savvin. People who she’d conducted operations against without their knowledge. Ironic that they were all committed to one goal now.

And that goal was one she had made her central theme of her speech: _Unity_.

Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, Iseul had been rather helpful when she wrote her speech. She supposed it made sense for the Supreme Leader to have a good grasp on what to say to a crowd to properly entrance them, but he appeared to have genuinely been interested in helping. Whatever his motivations, she was pleased with the result.

What she was to say would go down in history, so it was essential that it not only be passable, but _memorable_. It needed to remain in the minds of the people long after she’d spoken the last words, it needed to occupy their thoughts until they felt motivated to _do something_. Did she have that capability?

She had the potential. That at least she knew. She could understand the mind of a soldier. She could understand the motivations of a criminal or politician. But an ordinary civilian…that was alien. She couldn’t imagine going through life and not feeling motivated to _do_ something with it, to at least _try_ and make an impact. To change things in some way.

But those people made up the majority of the population, so they must be sufficiently motivated to contribute. If words failed, there were other ways.

But that was a worry for another day.

“You can comment anytime,” Saudia said to her silent husband who was leaning against the wall, clad in his armor minus the captain’s helmet. “Sufficient?” She asked, turning around.

“More than that,” Ethan answered, walking over to her with a smile. “You look like a Chancellor.”

When all was said and done, she had to admit that she definitely looked the part. In the end she’d decided on her dress uniform for EXALT, minus the emblem on the sash, which had been replaced with the stylized ADVENT logo which to her appeared to have more in common with the alien glyphs than human language.

Black pants, boots, a plain black jacket with the red sash going around her right shoulder to the opposite waist and matching gloves. Combined with her height and demeanor, and with a pistol strapped to her waist in plain view, she had to admit she could come across as an intimidating and commanding figure.

That would work to her advantage today. The media would honestly probably care more about the Commander speaking than her at the moment, since he was set to say something after her. But she was to set the tone, not just for ADVENT, but for her leadership.

“How are you feeling?” Ethan asked, taking her hands. “Ready?”

“I’m ready,” she admitted with a sigh, running her thumb over his armored fingers. “Though somewhat concerned, as always. A lot rides on this.”

“And you’ll do fine,” Ethan reassured her. “I read what you wrote, and it’s very good. Everyone here is behind you, even if they don’t know you well.”

“It’s not them I need to reach,” Saudia insisted, letting go of his hands to motion in the general direction around her. “It’s the people. I have to sell them unity, hope and ADVENT. And I _know_ that I’m going to have enemies trying to discredit me everywhere. This is my only first impression, no matter how it goes, it will only go downhill from here.”

He grew a little more serious. “I know what you mean, and I’ll do whatever I can to help. But in the end, Saudia, they don’t matter. You know that.”

“Yes, I know,” she agreed. “But it makes things easier. A friendly population is much easier to utilize than a skeptical one.”

“Mhmm, words of wisdom,” Ethan said with a smile. “But you’ve done enough that one speech shouldn’t cause this much worry to such an accomplished woman.”

“Flatterer,” she chided, but ultimately felt a little more at ease. “Easy for you to say, you’re just going to stand behind me and look menacing.”

“Don’t discount that,” Ethan said, walking over to the couch to pick up his helmet. “In all seriousness, I do think the amount of military personnel here is making the media nervous. They aren’t used to seeing so many armored soldiers walking around them.”

“Good,” Saudia said, looking at the hanging clock in front of the door. “It might temper their wild speculation for the first day.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to keep them waiting,” Ethan said, putting on his helmet, obscuring his face behind the red and black ornate helmet. He extended a hand formally to the door. “Would you like to take point, Chancellor, or should I?”

She smirked and strode forward. “I’ll take point, thank you. Let’s go.”

***

Exiting the building took slightly longer than she would have liked, mostly due to the unfamiliarity of the place, as well as having to stop and wait for her official guard, three other men and women wearing the same uniform as Ethan. The only thing that distinguished them as the Chancellor’s Guard from regular officers were that their shoulder capes were a pure white with the ADVENT insignia emblazoned in the center.

Saudia pushed the door open to the outside and was immediately hit with dozens of sudden flashes from cameras and shouts for her attention. They apparently weren’t expecting an armed guard, at least not one carrying fully loaded weapons, and the mass of journalists and media took a step back as she led them out.

“No questions for now,” she told them, sweeping her head around the throng as she kept going forward. “That will be at a different time.”

It of course didn’t stop them from yelling questions after her.

_“What are you planning to do about the aliens?”_

_“What is happening to the United Nations?”_

_“Did XCOM have something to do with this?”_

She ignored them, walking down the sidewalk which had ADVENT soldiers in their black armor stationed regularly. She wanted this to be extremely controlled, and the soldiers would give anyone second thoughts about trying to start something, as well as keep the media in line. She did not plan to be lax in enforcing boundaries.

As a matter of fact, Ethan had reported that one reporter had been escorted off the premises after he’d tried to get into a restricted zone, despite a soldier telling him not to and the barriers with the words _do not enter_ plastered on them. His own fault, and she had no issue kicking him out. It had seemed to have the intended effect, as the rest of them had stayed in their respective zone.

The leaves from the landscaped bushes around her rustled as a cool breeze blew through them. It was a beautiful day, one that couldn’t have been timed better. The sky was cloudy, a pleasant breeze was constant and the temperature was moderate. Compared to Antarctica, this really was a paradise. That being said, she missed the Bastion and it was unfortunate it had to be abandoned.

But considering that it was too isolated to really stage an effective defense, especially against the aliens, it was a necessary sacrifice. Geneva was a sufficient replacement, once it was improved to more…practical accommodations. Renovations to turn it into the official Executive Building were well underway, and she was looking forward to properly catching up on what her respective science and engineering divisions had accomplished since her first meeting with them.

“Let them begin coming to fill the area under the podium,” Saudia ordered as they approached the place where the speech was to take place. The elevated stone entrance to the columned building behind her made a suitable backdrop, and the open fields were large enough to accommodate the large crowd that had gathered, as well as her soldiers.

However, the ones waiting on the stage were almost as significant as her, at least in how so many of them were gathered together. It was a major deal for the leaders of just two countries to be in the same place together, here she counted….well, quite a few more than that.

The Presidents of America, Russia, South Korea, Armenia, Taiwan; the Supreme Leader of North Korea; The Prime Minister of Israel; the Chancellor of Germany and the Marshal of Brazil. All in all, it was a gathering of elites the world hadn’t seen in decades, perhaps ever. That alone should demonstrate the gravity and significance of ADVENT better than any speech could, and they would be in the background at all times, standing behind with their personal guards while she addressed the world.

“And so it begins,” the Commander said wistfully as he walked up beside her. Saudia motioned her guard to take their positions as she joined him in observing the multiple conversations taking place between the world leaders. “I didn’t think I would see something like this.”

“Not like this,” Saudia agreed, crossing her arms. “But it is…encouraging. At least for today.”

“They feel optimistic,” the Commander said, looking up at her. “While that will not last, it is good to know they are willing to work together.”

The Commander’s psionic abilities were still a concern, but there unfortunately wasn’t anything she could do about that. She was somewhat surprised in his own choice of attire. Instead of the traditional black XCOM fatigues he normally wore to diplomatic meetings, he’d instead chosen to show up in his scratched, scorched and dented silver armor.

She supposed it made sense, and would definitely make his purpose clear to those watching. While she had been relatively open about what her speech was going to consist of, the Commander had been incredibly secretive. Knowing him, he might deliver some scathing remark she didn’t entirely want to deal with. But the Commander wasn’t an idiot, and probably wouldn’t do something like that on the first day.

“Chancellor,” Ethan said, coming up to her. “They’re ready.”

“Showtime,” the Commander said with a smile, and together they walked up the stone stairs. The respective leaders quieted and began lining up in neat rows, flanked on all sides by her ADVENT soldiers. The Commander was flanked by two of his own XCOM soldiers as he took a position in the back, but with a clear view to watch her.

Saudia stepped onto the podium, and her guard took their positions, two to each respective side of the podium, and two behind her. They stood in perfect military poise, their hands clasped behind their backs. She adjusted the microphones up a tad to accommodate her height, then rested her hands on the sides as she looked into the crowd.

Cameras, flashes and dozens of microphones were pointed towards her, with the faces of those in attendance waiting in rapt attention for her to begin. Complete silence filled the air, save for the breeze rustling the leaves around her. A light on her podium flashed to green, indicating she was cleared to begin.

So she did.

“Greetings, citizens from across the world. After the tragedies that have recently taken place in this world, you no doubt have questions, and are hoping for answers. While I will not be able to address every question or concern you may have, rest assured that I will be in the coming days, but for now it is imperative that some basic information be shared and understood by all.”

Saudia let her gaze sweep across the crowd. “I am Saudia Vyandar, the Chancellor of ADVENT, as designated by the esteemed leaders of the world behind me. My name is unfamiliar to you, but that is simply because of the nature of my work before my appointment here. I’ve led a global intelligence organization, working to prevent and protect everyday citizens from the numerous threats that arise in everyday life. This has led to me having firsthand experience with the alien threat we face today, and is ultimately why I was chosen, because I have the knowledge, drive and passion to understand the threat we face and defeat it.”

She paused. “But actions speak louder than words, and I intend to prove to you of my intentions. But beyond myself, there is much else that needs to be addressed. I can unfortunately confirm that the entire United Nations leadership is dead; murdered in the alien attack that killed thousands of innocent people. The motivations for this attack are still unknown, but they are done likely as an attempt to destroy our leadership, divide our people and cripple our resolve. The _aliens_ believe that we are weak-willed enough to be _stunned_ into submission or _splinter_ out of fear, but I can assure you now, _that will not happen_.”

She gripped the podium tightly. “I value honesty, so the harsh reality is that this was a possible contingency that was planned for. This was the worst-case scenario that sadly came to fruition, despite our best efforts. But this will only have the exact opposite effect the aliens have intended for us. By attempting to weaken us with these acts of terror, the only thing they have accomplished is bringing us together, and we will emerge to face them as one.”

Saudia steeled her tone slightly to drive this point home. “And that is what we require now. I do not speak just for myself, the ones behind me or the soldiers on the front lines. But I speak for what is required if we want humanity to survive. We are a diverse species, with many differing beliefs, opinions and outlooks. We have become bogged down by trivial debates between each other, fights over superficial issues and topics and intolerance and polarization everywhere.”

“We must rise above that. We stand at the crossroads today. Australia was the wake-up call, and these attacks are the warning. We have to stand together as one united humanity. As one united people. We should not see each other as simply Russian, American, Chinese or Canadian, we cannot become solely defined by our nationality, nor should we believe their respective ones have all the answers. But we need to see each other as _humans_ ; _humans_ fighting, living and surviving together in one common cause.”

Saudia raised her index finger upward. “The aliens? They are united and focused on one goal: the subjugation of our species. The answer to them is not simply our soldiers, weapons or technology, it is if we are united or divided. That will ultimately determine the outcome of this war. Divided by our differences we will lose this war, but united by our cause we can protect ourselves from the encroaching threat.”

Saudia paused for a brief moment to let it sink in. “This is the end to which ADVENT is established; an initiative that was to be introduced over a period of decades through the United Nations. But we cannot wait any longer, we cannot afford the delays and debates about the strengths and weaknesses. ADVENT is not simply a united _army_ to push back the aliens, it is the _future_ of humanity.”

“ADVENT exists to execute three specific directives,” she continued. _“Security, prosperity_ and _advancement._ Under ADVENT our citizens will be protected by the best soldiers in the world; a true multinational army that will be dedicated to ensuring that the alien threat is pushed back and defeated. Crime will be stamped out under our Peacekeepers, as we can no longer afford to be lenient while the world is at stake. The nations will be protected by each other, and ADVENT will come to the aid of any member nation attacked by a hostile force, be they alien or otherwise.”

She swept her gaze once more on the crowd. “We also recognize that the future rests in the hands of the people, and thus it is appropriate to recognize you as such, and give you all the advantages necessary to ensure our continued survival. People will no longer need to worry about the crippling fear of debt acquired by medicine, schooling and living. It will be provided from ADVENT, to achieve our goal of improving the lives of all citizens, not just the influential or wealthy. Political representatives in ADVENT will no longer be leashed to the traditional political parties, businesses, lobbyists or wealth that has corrupted so many others, but will be qualified representatives of the people, and chosen by them in fair democratic elections.”

She still appeared to have their attention. “Finally, the goal of ADVENT is also not just to _accept_ who we are as a species, but actively attempt to push past our boundaries to achieve that which we once thought impossible. Some believe that uniting our species is impossible, and yet I say that it will happen, as evidenced by the men and women behind me. Some believe that the aliens cannot be defeated, I say it is already possible, as evidenced by the fine work of XCOM. Some will also no doubt believe that the picture I paint at this moment is nothing more than a fantasy; a dream that cannot ever match up to reality.”

Saudia smiled. “And while I disagree, as will be demonstrated over the coming days, ask yourself this: Is it not what we should strive towards? Is it not the goal to achieve a global unity of our species? To have a society where all are taken care of and have the ability to advance on their merits? To have a military that protects the people from threats, and a government to represent them accordingly?”

“In the end, the question truly is if our unification is not merely a _solution_ to our survival, but a _necessity_. And if it must be a necessity, why not take the opportunity to craft the best iteration of our species possible? It is to this end that ADVENT was created, why I was chosen, and what I will continuously work towards during my tenure as Chancellor of ADVENT.”

“The nations of the world face a choice: Fight this threat alone, or join us and fight it together. What is decided will ultimately determine the fate of our species. So I say to them all, choose wisely, for the time has run out. There are no second chances in this war, and there is no turning back.”

Saudia stepped back. “That is all, and I believe that what will be unveiled over the coming days will prove both my and ADVENT’s intentions. And I am also pleased to present before you the Commander of XCOM, who’s led the major offenses against the alien threat to this date.” Saudia stepped off the podium and watched the Commander take the stage.

***

It wasn’t a bad speech, not at all. Had he not been responsible for the framework of ADVENT, the Commander would have personally been too cynical to really believe anything that Saudia was saying. He would have been the one saying it was impossible. But in this case, he knew better, though Saudia was downplaying the sacrifices that would undoubtedly come to bring the vision of ADVENT into reality.

And that was not going to make everyone happy.

And so he took the stand, looked out into the cameras as the people watched and waited for the shrouded leader of XCOM to reveal himself to the world. “As Chancellor Vyandar stated, I am the Commander of XCOM,” he began. “Since the first abductions, I have been orchestrating the defense against the alien threat, and the time has come to do so in a more open manner.”

He trailed off for a moment. “While our operations have been, and will remain, secret, our mission is the same as it always has been; to protect and defend humanity from extraterrestrial threats. Much like ADVENT, we were a contingency; a last-ditch effort that no one expected to use. But much has changed over the past year, and I, along with my senior advisors, have ensured that XCOM will lead the charge in the fight to defend our world.”

The Commander paused, sweeping his gaze around. “ _Vigilo Confido._ That is the motto ascribed to us. _Ever vigilant_. _Ever watchful_. So we are and continue to be, and while our role will solely be related to the alien threat, we will be watching beyond them. The aliens are subtle, devious and intelligent. They do not solely rely on armies, and I have learned that their goal is not simply to _conquer_ our species. It is not to _enslave_ or _kill_.”

He looked directly into the main camera. “No, their vision for us is far more insidious. They want _us_ to be what they _cannot_ ; adaptable, versatile and powerful. They want us as a willing subservient race, and will promise much to convince you that their plans aren’t solely for _their_ own benefit, but for _yours_. But to accomplish their goals would only serve to strip out what makes us human. Our diversity, ingenuity and individuality. For under the aliens, there is no independence; there is no freedom; there is only subservience to their leaders.”

The air around him was charged with interest. Yes, he had their attention. “You have seen glimpses of the aliens themselves, and their leaders are as ethereal as I have been before today. They are beings of power that are said to be able to take on entire armies, New York was the result of one such being.”

The Commander’s lips curled into a toothless grin. “But they are not invincible. They are not omnipotent. They _can_ be killed. They led an attack on our main base of operations with the intent to kill us once and for all. But they _failed_. They could not win against us before and XCOM will not let them win now.”

He motioned to the crowd. “Don’t be deceived into thinking that the aliens have every advantage. The soldiers around you can stand against their armies; ADVENT has been created to ensure that anything they can throw at us, we _can_ defeat. And their leaders are few, they cannot simply be thrown at us, for each one killed will only makes us _stronger_.”

The Commander lowered his hand back to the podium. “This war is bigger than what I or XCOM can realistically counter. We lack the numbers to wage a war, but we have enough to make a difference. XCOM will support ADVENT as an independent ally, one as committed to defending our species as we are. Both our organizations will be communicating closely as the war progresses.”

The Commander paused, then lowered his voice slightly. “I do want to reiterate a point that Chancellor Vyandar stated in her own address to you today. She stressed the importance of a united humanity and I will do so as well now. This is not the first war I have partaken in, and I have seen firsthand how wars were won or lost because of the unity of each side or lack thereof.”

“Division and polarization have been the downfall of civilizations before, not just the armies. The people at home are often forgotten as inconsequential, even in the military. But they often hold just as much sway, they can be the reason for the push to victory, or their division is why the battle is lost. But there is another component that goes hand-in-hand with unity and that is _trust_.”

He smiled. “That is the one lingering question in the back of the minds of those watching, isn’t it? How can we trust you? How can we trust those leading us to make the right decisions? I stand with Chancellor Vyandar in believing that actions speak louder than words, so simply look at what XCOM has accomplished: We were responsible for responding to multiple alien incursions that have not graced the media; we were responsible for crashing the Dreadnought over China; we ensured that both Hamburg and New York were not razed to the ground; we have staved off direct attacks to our bases of operations and we dismantled the shadow organization known as EXALT. We have done more that you wouldn’t be able to confirm on your own, but I hope that is enough for you to trust that we are fully committed to our mission of defending you from the aliens.”

He paused. “The nature of Chancellor Vyandar’s work prevents me from giving the same reasons, but I can assure that she is just as dedicated not only to stopping the alien threat, but uplifting humanity into a new era of prosperity and security. She has extensive experience leading from behind the scenes, and I am confident that her skills are already translating well to preside over the most prestigious body this world has seen.”

The Commander looked to the center camera. “So in addition to a call for unity, I also call for trust. Trust in ADVENT leading you, and trust in XCOM for protecting you. And in turn, we place our trust in you in deciding the future of our species. As Chancellor Vyandar said…there are no second chances here. The crossroads for our future has appeared, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that we succeed in this war.”

He gave his salute and inclined his head. “Prepared or not, the time for action is now. Thank you, and Vigilo Confido.”

To his mild surprise, the ADVENT captains beside him imitated his salute and as he looked out, he saw the rest of the soldiers copying him. It was an unplanned, but uplifting display he couldn’t help but feel pride at. The rest of the reporters noticed as well, and it spoke to the level of respect and authority XCOM commanded to elicit this reaction from soldiers of another organization.

In any case, he couldn’t think of a better ending, and simply stepped down from the podium. And with that it was done, the announcement of ADVENT was complete. Now it was time for the real war to begin.

***

The lack of a crowd outside of the media made the lack of applause noticeable, but a faint murmuring soon filled the air as everyone started talking after it was clear that the speeches were over. From what she could tell, most of the people closest to her approved of the direction, at least Patricia hadn’t sensed any sort of anger, resentment or outrage that would accompany strong disagreement.

Although everyone had definitely wondered if the Commander was going to be the wildcard here, since he’d kept what he was going to say to himself, only revealing that it would be in line with Saudia’s speech, and lo and behold, it was.

The question Patricia had was what the reactions would be elsewhere. From her view it had gone well, though she was admittedly biased and ultimately knew that all the talk of _unity_ was simply a means to get public pressure on the more reluctant nations to join ADVENT. That appeared to be Saudia’s playbook: Diplomacy first, force second.

Besides, there was still a lot that needed to be established, and just the countries involved now were going to take months to fully implement the entire military, intelligence and Peacekeeping Division. But it would happen, she’d seen enough proof of that from looking over the reports sent to the Commander.

Of course…that wasn’t what was occupying her mind now. It was past time they interrogated Aegis on why the hell he was here. And of course he had to show up right before the Demeter Contingency was activated and directly _after_ that ADVENT had to be unveiled. Which left very little room to actually sit down with the Ethereal who’d so kindly surrendered to them.

Her face turned hard under her helmet as she watched the Commander and Saudia talk, recalling how Aegis had rather easily put down her entire squad. It would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t a terrifying implication of just how underdeveloped they were to properly combat the Ethereals. Aegis had of course been vague after they’d taken him on the skyranger.

It was one of the most awkward rides back she’d ever had, but they hadn’t exactly had much time to debate, and stuck him in alien containment where Vahlen had been analyzing the Ethereal with a rapt expression on her face. Everyone around Aegis had been strangely confident as they worked, with no hint of nervousness at all.

An unnatural lack of caution, that she suspected was attributed to the aura he emitted she’d sensed before. For whatever reason, he had the ability to harden the resolve of those around him; negate debilitating emotions and conditions like fear and caution. It was both useful and disturbing how easily she’d been affected, and even more insidious since she didn’t particularly feel the need to block it.

With the Ravaged One, it had been simple. Pain was bad and she’d been happy to block it. Aegis had the opposite effect. She _wanted_ to feel secure about what she was doing; she _wanted_ to be without fear. And because of that, she felt like there was some hidden catch she wasn’t aware of. So ever since then she’d fought to prevent herself from being affected by him in that way. Not until she knew how exactly it worked.

That being said, it _was_ interesting. She wondered if all Ethereals had this kind of aura around them. A passive telepathic presence developed over likely centuries of practice. If so…hmm, perhaps it could be replicated. She supposed she could do it to a degree, seeing as how she’d mentally synched her squads together in the past, but that had been after intense concentration, not something she did on instinct.

Another question to ask him when they returned to the Praesidium.

“What did you think?” She asked Carmelita who stood beside her, clutching her alloy cannon. The woman had been tense ever since arriving here, and Patricia knew it was likely being in such close proximity to Iseul. Whatever the Commander thought of him, it wouldn’t erase the friends she’d lost during the Korean shadow war. The fact that both countries were now technically part of one government under ADVENT didn’t seem to help.

“Both of them weren’t telling the whole truth,” she answered flatly, admittedly relaxing a little bit. “I’ve seen enough propaganda to tell. Saudia’s speech had the mark of Iseul in places, and the Commander is attempting to appeal to the basic intelligence of the public.” She snorted. “Ha. It’s sad that even an alien invasion isn’t enough to get everyone to work together.”

“Agreed,” Patricia said wearily. “But I have a feeling that is going to change when the attacks start.”

“I suppose so,” Carmelita said, looking over to where Presidents Chia and Treduant were talking. Chia waved her over. “Looks like she wants me,” Carmelita said. “I’ll be back.”

“Go ahead,” Patricia said, admittedly curious why Chia wanted to talk with her. But it admittedly would be a nice change from just standing around and looking intimidating. She felt extremely out of her league and out of place here. The sheer amount of presence these people exhibited was staggering, and little more than a year ago, she had been a mid-ranking soldier in the Royal Marines.

She had admittedly come a long way since then, but this made her…uncomfortable. She was a soldier and psion, not a politician. She also suspected that they wouldn’t be quite as friendly if they knew she could read their minds at any time.

Now there was someone coming up, a very distinct mind. “Patricia Trask, correct?” Iseul asked coming up beside her. Her armor made her tower over him by a few inches, but he didn’t seem perturbed. “I’m not sure we’ve been formally introduced.”

“Yes, correct,” she said, not sensing anything hostile from him, and took his extended hand. “Do you make a point to greet every soldier this way?”

He gave a humorless smile. “Only the ones worth knowing. The Commander does not choose just anyone to accompany him, and I can see the uses for a psion.”

She was somewhat surprised he knew, and she could easily sense he believed what he was saying and it wasn’t a trick of some sort. “I’m curious how you came to that conclusion.”

He nodded toward her. “Your armor. The color is rather distinct, and I have seen the footage of you from New York. Correct me if I am wrong, and besides…there is something different about you that I can’t place. Call it a feeling.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “You don’t make assumptions based on feelings. I know that much about you.”

“Correct, I make educated guesses on what I know to be true,” he answered easily. “And what I know for certain is that you are not like others, Psion. The Commander must trust you a great deal to permit you to work with him so closely.”

Ah, now she was beginning to see what his point was. “Be careful with accusations, Supreme Leader. No, I am not influencing the Commander.”

“So blunt,” he said with a smile. “So tell me then, is it possible for you to influence someone without them aware of it?”

She narrowed her eyes, aware that any effect was lost from behind her helmet. “Of course I can. That doesn’t mean I do it. And I’d appreciate it if you either got to your point, or accused me properly.”

Iseul turned completely serious. “If you insist. I’ve learned what I could about you, and by all accounts you do not seem a threat. But I am not convinced that psionics are something that can be properly handled by XCOM. The fact that you are so highly promoted within it is dangerous, since your kind are dangerous, would you disagree?”

“No, your concern is reasonable,” she had to admit. Much as she hated hearing ‘your kind’ he unfortunately had a point. “But you forget that this is the _Commander_. Do you really think he doesn’t have an answer for…us?”

“No, I think he does,” Iseul admitted. “But I’m not sure it is the correct one. If it was, you would not hold any position of influence.”

She almost chuckled. That meant that he was unaware that the Commander himself was a psion, which would prove…interesting when he found out. But at this point she was getting a little tired of this conversation, and didn’t exactly want Iseul raising unnecessary questions. She reached out to his mind, easing it open a little to make it easier to suggestion.

It was interesting that if the target was unaware, it was easier to sway an intelligent person than one less so. Their minds were organized to a fault, making it easier to spot crevices. She raised a hand and then simply lowered it to her side while saying. “The Commander has a plan, you don’t need to worry about it.”

She pressed those words into his mind as well, as he’d been distracted by the motion she’d done with her hand. “I suppose you have a point,” he repeated dully. “The plan the Commander has is likely sufficient. There are more important things to worry about.”

“Let’s move on then,” she said.

“I agree,” Iseul said, eyeing the Commander and Saudia speaking. “I will leave before your South Korean soldier comes back. I doubt she would like to see me.”

“No,” Patricia agreed as he walked away. “She wouldn’t.”

Iseul’s suspicion of psionics was a somewhat important piece of information to learn. It would probably be best if the Commander heard it from her before he accidentally revealed it himself. But she probably shouldn’t worry. The Commander was much better in these situations than she was.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

Rare was the time where the soldiers crowded around the television to watch something on the news, but this was one such time. All of them had been silent as they watched the Commander and this new Chancellor give what essentially amounted to a replacement for the United Nations. Personally, Sierra Morrow found it…difficult…to believe that ADVENT was going to be some kind of utopia, especially given the current situation.

What she _did_ think was that this had been in the works long before the alien attack on the United Nations had gone down. “The Commander’s been busy,” Leonid, one of the Russians commented. “There is no way he didn’t know this was happening.”

“Of course he knew,” Sierra agreed, swinging her arm absentmindedly over the couch, a habit she had yet to break. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was involved in creating it. He _was_ former CIA. They like doing this kind of stuff.”

“And I suppose you’re an expert on intelligence?” Mordecai said with a wry smile. “Special forces and intelligence work are not exactly synonymous.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. “True, but I wager I know more US history than you, _and_ more about the CIA.”

“Perhaps,” he said, standing up. “It will be interesting to see how this works out.”

“Yeah,” Sierra said, unable to keep a frown off her face. Despite how…encouraging it was that a global alliance was already being formed, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with how it had all come together. It all seemed too well planned, and she wasn’t thrilled with how an _entire_ _army_ had apparently just come out of nowhere.

“I’m kinda surprised America seems to be joining this ADVENT,” Karen Dais, one of the Canadian CSORs commented, flipping a pen lazily between her fingers. “Sierra, can the president do that?”

Sierra scratched her chin. “Hmm…let’s see…alliances would fall under the executive branch _I believe_ …but this seems a lot bigger. It seems like whatever nation joins ADVENT is subject to its laws.”

“A world government,” Lesedi clarified, the South African sniper looking rather happy with the idea. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Agreed,” Jona, the Swiss Grenadier nodded, brushing her snow-white hair behind her ear. “It’s what we need, like it or not.”

Sierra and Leonid exchanged a glance, and from his blank expression she knew he wasn’t quite as on board with the idea of a world government as some of them. Neither was she. “You won’t have a peaceful transition to a world government,” Leonid said, leaning back in the couch. “One: The people aren’t going to like suddenly being under a world government that they feel doesn’t represent their interests. In particular, America and Russia are very… _patriotic_. Savvin might push for it, but I don’t see America following suit.”

“Don’t forget that China will probably just laugh and say no,” Sierra agreed. “And I can agree with America. For the record I’m not entirely sure America should join yet, not until Saudia proves herself and we know a _little_ more about ADVENT. Anyway…” Sierra looked back to Karen. “To answer your question, no, something like this would need to pass Congress at the very _least_. And since it would likely nullify our Constitution, it is _not_ going to get bipartisan support from the Democrats and Republicans. There is no way they will willingly submit to an international power.”

She was interrupted by a chuckle from another soldier sitting on a chair behind them, his black skin illuminated by the florescent light directly above. What was his name…Joseph? And some strange last one. She did remember he was a Green Beret. “What’s so funny?”

“You haven’t kept up with the news, I guess,” he said looking over to them, raising his tablet.

Sierra frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He tossed the tablet to her which she caught easily and looked at what appeared to be a government document. “Senate bill 117B,” he continued. “I have a habit of checking exactly how my representatives are voting and this bill was passed about a week ago.”

Sierra did a quick scroll-through, somewhat irritated at the length. “You can’t just throw something forty-one pages long at me and expect me to know what the hell I’m reading. So it’s a bill? They do it all the time.”

Joseph stood up and walked over to them. “Not just any bill, it was introduced by President Treduant herself. Want to guess what it does?”

“Stop being smug and tell her.” Leonid chimed in, crossing his arms.  

“It gives every executive agency complete autonomy in times of declared war,” Joseph explained. “In essence, it renders the government free to operate without the legislative and judicial branches. And of course, the military answers to the Commander-in-Chief.”

Sierra went cold as she realized the implications. “She wouldn’t do that. There will be riots in the streets. This kind of decision can’t be made unilaterally.”

“Except that it can,” Joseph confirmed, taking his tablet from her fingers. “I have no idea how she managed to get this through both the House _and_ Senate in so little time, but she did and I wondered what the purpose of this bill actually could be. Considering ADVENT, I think we know now.”

Leonid whistled. “And I thought Madam Treduant was the woman who listened to the people.”

Sierra raised an eyebrow. “Where the hell did you get _that_ idea? She’s the one who gets things done, and admittedly that lines up with what people want most of the time. I liked her, she’s a principled woman…still,” she shook her head and glanced at the TV. “This is going _way_ too far for her…assuming she _does_ declare America is joining ADVENT.”

“She was at the address,” Karen pointed out quietly. “I think that’s exactly what she is going to do.”

“She’s probably doing what’s necessary,” Lesedi said. “We don’t have time for all the congresses to debate over if they should help fight the aliens.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sierra scowled, trying to think. “This isn’t just bypassing Congress, this is undermining our _country_. This is throwing out everything we’ve built in favor of _whatever_ the hell ADVENT is. And I can guarantee that they won’t hold the same values and rules as our Constitution.”

“If it comes between defending against the aliens and your constitution, which would you prefer?” Lesedi challenged. “Because I don’t think there’s much of a choice, for America or anyone else.”

“You wait and see if the new world order is _actually_ _good_ before preemptively signing on,” Sierra countered. “We need information, facts and evidence before even considering joining something like this.”

“The Commander is backing it though,” Jona added. “He wouldn’t be doing it unless he was confident it would work. He’s American too, if that makes you feel better.”

“Eh, I don’t know if the Commander really sees himself as just American,” Leonid said, motioning toward the TV. “I mean he did say kinda imply that nationalism was a problem and we needed to focus on the aliens. From everything I’ve seen of him, he’s going to do whatever works best against the aliens.”

Sierra had gotten that feeling as well. Worse was that she had a suspicion that what he would like wasn’t exactly democratic. It wasn’t much to go on, just from how he’d acted, what he’d written and how he operated. The contingencies in particular had unnerved her the first time she read them, clearly prioritizing efficiency and results above all else. And the thing was…a democratic republic wasn’t exactly the most efficient form of government. That he was working with Nowinski and Supreme Leader Gwan told her that he didn’t really care how people operated as long as they shared his goals.

“In any case, there isn’t much we can do,” Lesedi said, standing up. “We’re XCOM now.”

“Copy that,” Leonid smirked. “Probably better this way. I trust the Commander a hell of a lot more than any politician.”

“A shame he isn’t one,” Jona said, and they chuckled at that.

Sierra didn’t join in. She sort of wished she could just fully commit her loyalty to XCOM, but she was still American and that wouldn’t change. A glance with Karen shared the same feelings. And in terms of trusting the Commander…she respected him now, though she wasn’t quite sure she _trusted_ him yet.

Well, she did trust him not to get her killed for no reason, but not necessarily about making the right decisions.

***

_The Praesidium, Practice Range_

Jamali still wasn’t entirely used to the curved and bubbly architecture of the Sectoids. The Praesidium was alien in every sense of the word, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they didn’t belong here. The hum of the elerium generators was pervasive, yet he’d personally adapted to the pulses rather quickly, as had they all.

Still though, it felt unnatural. Out of place.

Like he did now.

It did speak to the level of respect all of them had for each other that none of them had made comments, insinuations or the like about where he’d come from. They weren’t exactly _supportive_ , or anything like that, but they didn’t broach that topic and he returned the favor.

But it was never out of his mind and now it was coloring his outlook. He genuinely, truly, could not understand what unholy force had gripped the leaders of his nation to stoop so low as to not only assassinate foreign leaders, but kill their families as well. It was sickening, and he hadn’t slept the past nights after Israel had begun the attacks on Jordan, Syria, and soon to be, Iraq.

His homeland and first loyalty. A loyalty he wasn’t sure he could keep anymore.

True, it wasn’t without its faults to say the least. Iraq had embraced the extreme during the War on Terror and had paid the price. Jamali was well aware that many of his countryman were bitter and vengeful against Israel, the West, anyone who’d allowed the demon known as the Commander loose and hadn’t done anything to stop him until it was too late.

He’d been a lot younger then. And growing up seeing his country mocked and dismissed over the years had been troubling and difficult. But also as he grew older, he was able to tell it wasn’t without reason. It wasn’t undeserved, as harsh as that truth was. But it was a truth that he’d kept to himself as those around him wanted nothing more than revenge. They were too blinded to see that Islam, and by extension, Iraq, had been responsible for its own downfall. The religion had been hijacked by extremists, brought into the mainstream while purposefully ignoring aspects of the Quran that condemned everything the Caliphate stood for.

As he’d seen it now, after Mecca was destroyed, there should have been some serious internal self-examination after the Caliphate was finally defeated. And…there had. Though not by choice. Worse that the War had created a true hatred for the religion itself to the point that it wasn’t safe to openly practice it, even in western nations like the United States.

Laws had soon been passed regulating the practice significantly in multiple countries, and now the open practice of Islam was only openly tolerated in a very few places outside the Middle East, such as Canada and Switzerland. Jamali had wondered if the religion would ever recover, though with the attack on Israel, it seemed like that would be the actual death knell for Islam, as well as the regular way of life he’d experienced.

He scowled, once more trying to wonder what had possessed Saudi Arabia, Iran and Yemen to think that _this_ was the solution. If it was simply vengeance, it would have happened a long time ago. Was it opportunism? An alien incursion would admittedly have everyone distracted, but if they seriously thought Israel was just going to ignore an attack, they must have been seriously impaired.

He finally reached the practice range set up. It was clearly modeled after the one in the Citadel; various cutouts and targets of various aliens populating the range at various distances. The room itself was empty, thankfully, all of the others watching the address by someone called Saudia. He’d never heard of her, but could guess what she was going to say: _“This was such a horrible attack by the aliens, now unite and fight them.”_ Only with a lot more eloquence than he could be bothered to muster at this point. Not that he’d particularly believe her anyway.

ADVENT, the United Nations, he couldn’t muster up strong feelings for them. Truthfully he’d never really thought of them much, mainly because they’d never really _done_ anything of note. What was truly horrible to him were the people who’d died in the attacks, not that the organization itself was coming apart.

And he supposed ADVENT was the replacement for the United Nations, maybe with a more military focus. He supposed he’d get the details later, but that conflict wasn’t the one he was watching now. And from the latest reports there, he needed to take his mind off it for a while. He took a stance, raised his pulse rifle and took aim at the cardboard cutout of a Borelian soldier, one of the recent additions.

The pulsing beam sliced through it with ease and he quickly moved to the next one, then the next until every target was sliced into charred, crisp pieces lying on the floor. He lowered his weapon and surveyed the damages. He really wondered if he was wasting his time here. Very rarely did he ever have shots that were hitting targets standing in the open, not to mention that pulse weapons weren’t like ballistics. A sustained beam pretty much negated any need for precise aiming even if it took far more power.

And his reflexes probably couldn’t improve more than they already were, although they did need to be maintained. However, this little jaunt did occupy him for…he glanced at his watch…thirty minutes. He grunted and turned to leave, hitting the button to notify that the targets needed to be replaced.

“You could have left some for me,” a voice chastised, a dry one with a soft tint. Jamali turned to see a smaller woman walk in, a gauss rifle slung over her shoulder. Short curly black hair framed a concerned face, which was overlooked by the scar from her right ear to lower chin. Right, even if he didn’t recognize her from her accent and brown skin, he would be able to tell by her posture that she was special forces, probably Israeli.

He shrugged. “They’ll replace them in a few minutes. Sorry.”

“Unneeded,” Fakhr al Din answered, raising a hand. “I’m curious why you aren’t watching up there with the rest of them. Seems pretty important.”

“Not to me,” Jamali answered, not wanting to elaborate. “I doubt it will change anything. Military alliances are expected.”

“Mhmm,” she said, crossing her arms. “Look, I know why you’re down here and I don’t blame you. Trust me when I say I know what it’s like to have Israel invade your home.”

He frowned and appraised the smaller woman. “You’re Israeli special forces though. Sayerert Makul if I remember you correctly.”

“Oh, I am,” she confirmed. “But I wasn’t always. You _do_ remember Palestine, right?”

He winced. Ah, that made much more sense. “Right. I didn’t realize that happened to you.”

She sighed. “I don’t make a habit of telling. Anyway, in retrospect it makes sense why it happened. They antagonized Israel too much and they got sick of the threats and acted. If they went that far, I can’t say I’m surprised to see them take on the rest after they were attacked.”

“It makes sense,” Jamali said, frustrated. “But what I can’t figure out is _why_? None of it makes sense. They _had_ to know what they were doing.”

Fakhr’s face contorted in confusion. “I agree. And I’m not sure we’ll ever really know. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it’s happening to you as well. Contrary to what you might think, not all of us want a war with your country.”

“Thank you,” he said with as much sincerity as he could muster. “But I’m curious…why join the IDF after what happened?”

She was silent for a few moments. “Guess I wanted to prove something. I can’t say the Israelis treated us _badly_ , but they definitely looked down on us, were suspicious despite in theory being all ‘one nation’ now. No, we were Palestinians first, Israelis second, if at all. Never openly either, but there were enough looks, gestures and tones to get the general idea that we were not welcome.”

She shrugged. “The only way to change that is proving them wrong. So I did my part. People are stubborn in their prejudices and like it or not, Israel is my home and I feel obligated to defend it. And even if I can’t attribute it completely to me, I do like to think I changed the minds of several officers about fielding native Palestinians.”

Jamali nodded. “Good for you. Hopefully…it will end quickly,” he sighed. “The IDF is moving on Iraq now. Russia is moving into Iran and America is concentrating on Yemen and Saudi Arabia. I hope it ends before too many people die.”

Fakhr nodded, leaning against the wall. “I think that it will. Don’t forget we have the aliens to deal with. Focus on that, and not something you have no control over. You’ll just make it worse for yourself.”

“Probably a good idea,” he agreed reluctantly, despite probably going to still keep up-to date on the status of the war. “I guess you saw the address, right? Anything interesting?”

She snorted. “Oh yes. And from what I’ve inferred and seen, I do think ADVENT is going to change the world.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 1: Organization and Structure

Subsection 1.1: Introduction

Upon initialization of ADVENT, the organization of this body will be divided into several different branches, both civilian and military. The first of these will be federal or civilian positions, which will govern over the general population and represent their interests. The main organs of this are as follows:

  * The Legislature, which consists of the ADVENT Congress of Nations, presided over by the Chancellor of ADVENT (See Section 2 for further details)
  * The Judicial branch, which is responsible for the enforcement, sentencing and reviewing of ADVENT State law (See Section 3 for further details).
  * The Executive branch, overseen by the Chancellor of ADVENT which includes multiple agencies responsible for ensuring that ADVENT remains in prime condition. The Executive Branch also has direct influence over the ADVENT Military and Peacekeeping Forces.



In addition to the civilian and federal branches, the final major organs of ADVENT are the ADVENT Military, ADVENT Peacekeepers and ADVENT Intelligence.

  * The ADVENT Military consists of the armed forces of ADVENT, and oversees troop deployments, strategy, intervention and their internal research and engineering programs. The ADVENT Military is subject to the Executive Branch and the current Chancellor, though can be overridden if certain conditions are met (See Section 8 for further details).
  * The ADVENT Peacekeeping Forces are responsible for the protection of ADVENT member nations, as well as the enforcement of laws passed by the Legislature. Peacekeepers will be strictly used to maintain domestic security which encompasses all criminal elements that occur in member states. Peacekeepers are subject to both the Judicial and Executive branches, though as with the ADVENT Military, exceptions are in place should certain conditions be met (See Section 7 for further details).
  * ADVENT Intelligence focuses on information gathering, analysis and application. It is the organ used for covert ADVENT operations against both civilian and military application, at the discretion of the Intelligence Director. ADVENT Intelligence answers directly to the Executive branch and ADVENT Military Leadership (See Section 6 for more details).



SECTION 1 Table of Contents:

  * – Introduction
  * – Legislative, Judicial and Executive Structures
  * – ADVENT Agencies
  * – ADVENT Member Nations
  * – ADVENT Military, Peacekeepers and Intelligence



                                                                       


	4. Brought to Light

_The Praesidium_

This was admittedly not what he was expecting. Although to be fair, Oliver Ilari had no idea _what_ to expect from XCOM. Perhaps a base of clear alien design should have been obvious, but he’d always thought that XCOM had operated from a…well, _human_ base.

Well, then again, the Commander _had_ said that XCOM had been attacked, so it was plausible that this was a recent move. In which case it raised the question of just how exactly XCOM had an entirely alien base as a _backup_.

The discussions about XCOM itself had been wide and varied within NATO. No one could decide if it was UN-run or not. Some days it seemed to be, then the next it seemed completely independent of them. No one could figure out where they were operating out of, or who they answered to. The most common theory had been that XCOM was some American program, and Oliver had personally supported that.

None of them had actually given any legitimacy to the possibility that XCOM _was_ independent.

And now all evidence seemed to point that it _was_ , which was legitimately shocking for him. Although it only made him suspect that it was a recent development, since something this large couldn’t just come out of nowhere. Well, now it looked like he was going to get some of his longstanding questions answered.

The irony did not escape him.

“This is amazing!” Analyn Roxas said as they descended the ramp, her eyes widening as she looked at the glittering alien metal. He wondered if it would be enough to make her pause for a few seconds. The Filipino woman had chatted with him the entire flight, especially once she’d learned he’d been with NATO. She was in rather good spirits considering the state of the world at the moment.

“It certainly is…interesting,” Anna Pavlova said softly, hugging her pack to her chest. The muscular American was surprisingly soft-spoken, especially considering she part of the Air Force TRF. “I wonder if this base was once run by the aliens.”

“Wow, I wonder how you could come to _that_ conclusion,” Nati Avraham commented brusquely, striding down without giving the architecture a glance. “Does this _look_ human?”

Anna opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, her lips morphing to a disapproving frown as he clearly wasn’t interested in an answer. “Don’t pay him any mind,” Analyn said with a smile, nudging her as they began moving deeper into the base. “Israeli Military doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Oliver snorted behind them. He couldn’t really contest that too much. The few encounters with the IDF that he recalled had been strictly business and the soldiers had treated it as exactly that. Not that he minded, it was one of the things he admired about their country. But it also seemed hard for them to switch ‘off’ when it was appropriate.

“Everything you hoped and dreamed?” Another soldier asked, walking up beside him. Another one who hadn’t spoken much on the flight over. He was definitely Asian, a bit smaller than Oliver and had short black hair.

“It’s certainly something,” Oliver agreed, now acutely aware of the _pulsing_ he was feeling as they walked down the shimmering hallway. “I don’t believe I got your name?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Sai-Kee Tan, Republic of China Armed Forces.”

Taiwanese then, interesting. “Oliver Ilari, NATO.”

Sai-Kee’s face grew somber. “Ah, I see. It’s unfortunate what’s happened.”

“That it is,” Oliver agreed with a sigh. “All indications are that NATO is going to be reformed into whatever ADVENT wants.”

Sai-Kee adjusted his pack as he looked over inquisitively. “You don’t approve? It seems logical.”

“Yeah, it’s logical,” Oliver agreed reluctantly. “But I’m not sure it’s what _NATO_ should be doing. We were created to stand against Russian aggression, not fight aliens and _definitely_ not answering to an unproven organization.”

“Isn’t that…” Sai-Kee looked forward, pausing a few seconds. “Somewhat…obsolete? Russia isn’t really a threat anymore. Don’t we have bigger issues to deal with?”

“Tell that to Iran right now,” Oliver said, shaking his head. “But you’re also right. I guess I’m sort of stuck in the past. Probably best to listen to the new Chancellor and the Commander and move past that. Seems petty when compared to the aliens.”

“Can’t disagree,” Sai-Kee nodded. “Even China doesn’t seem like such a big problem now. Guess realizing how small we are in the universe puts things into perspective. I mean,” he shrugged. “The aliens probably outnumber us a million to one. Even if every human were able to fight, we’re one planet. They have…well, we don’t know.”

Oliver noted a couple of XCOM soldiers walking past in full armor. “Maybe,” he said as they rounded a corner, somewhat keeping up with Anna and Analyn. “But I’m definitely not convinced their soldiers are better. XCOM has what? Under a hundred people? And by all accounts they’ve managed to hold on until this point.”

“True,” Sai-Kee agreed with a smile. “And we’re part of it now. Feels good.”

“Well, it should be an experience in any event,” Oliver said as they entered a room he assumed was the barracks. There were conventional bunks that seemed at odds with the alien architecture of the base. He found an unclaimed one and tossed his pack onto the cot, wondered where to go next. Oddly enough there had been no welcoming committee, just instructions from the pilot on where to go.

It was interesting how…non-military it was. Which struck him as odd since by all accounts the Commander was a very organized person. _Or maybe he just expects you to be able to find the damn barracks without an entire escort. He probably has more important stuff to worry about_.

That rationale made quite a bit of sense. Although it was still unusual for new soldiers to be trusted like that with no guidance. Maybe it was even a test…

He grunted. _Drop the conspiracies. You’re too old for that_. “They’re still sending more,” a voice commented, and he looked over to see it belonging to a young Asian woman with her arms crossed and a wry smile on her face.

He raised an eyebrow. “How many have come so far?”

“Nearly thirty, by my count,” she answered. “Definitely not complaining though. We need everyone we can.” She extended a hand. “Shun Anwei, welcome to XCOM.”

He took it and gave a firm shake. “Oliver Ilari, NATO,” he paused and appraised her. “Hmm…let me guess. Japanese Intelligence?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Close, actually. How did you guess intelligence?”

He nodded towards her. “Your body. Not quite that of a soldier, even if that’s been your job recently. I’ve worked with enough soldiers and agents to know when one is transitioning to another. You must be skilled if someone thought you’d fit here better.”

She smiled. “I’m flattered. But not Japanese. Former Chinese Intelligence, the more militant aspect, anyway.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting. _“Former_ Chinese Intelligence,” she emphasized. “Before you get too suspicious or excited,” her tone grew a little colder. “I’m not exactly _welcome_ back in China now.”

That was even _more_ interesting, though he could guess the reason. “You prioritized XCOM over China.”

“How observant,” she commented dryly. “Doesn’t help that I was essentially sent as a political pawn and set up. But I don’t regret it. It’s nice working for someone what actually has an interest in your well-being.”

Oliver nodded. “You mean the Commander.”

“Correct,” she said. “Probably not obvious right now, but you’ll understand when you meet him. You’re in good hands. All of us are.”

It must be true on some level; he must have had some kind of effect if he’d somehow convinced a Chinese agent of all people to virtually defect. Very curious. Oliver leaned against the bunk. “Well, you seem to know your way around. So what stuff should I know?”

She smiled. “You want the tour?”

“I think I would.”

“Then follow me,” Shun said, motioning for him to follow. “I should warn you that XCOM isn’t like anything you’ve been in before.”

“I’m getting that impression.” Oliver said, and followed her as she began showing him around the base.

***

_The Praesidium, Training Area 1_

Nuan Kun sized up the two people before her, one looking at her with outright hostility and the other appraising her with a cold impersonal stare. North Koreans were so easy to provoke, and she didn’t feel particularly bad about it. Chan Jin-Taek stood several inches taller, but if he hoped to intimidate her, he was sorely mistaken.

Iida Keyoko was roughly her height, and was managing to only stand there and look both annoyed and furious, but clearly trying to refrain from something she’d regret. Chan wasn’t so restrained. “[Careful what you say, puppet. You’re not in China anymore.]”

Nuan didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, only crossing her arms. “[And I’m not one of your brainwashed citizens. Or soldiers.]”

“[You’re one to talk,]” Iida almost spat. “[It’s not like China is known for its intelligent and independent populace…oh wait-]”

“[At least _our_ citizens knew about the alien threat,]” Nuan said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “[How long did it take you to tell them?]” She clicked her tongue. “[I’m disappointed. All the money we sent to you, and your citizens probably can’t operate a computer, with how sheltered they are.]”

Iida took a step forward and this time it was Chan putting a hand on her arm to restrain her. “[No answer?]” Nuan asked with a raised eyebrow. “[I’m sure you’ve spent your whole life being told you’re some kind of superpower. Maybe you believe it. But you all tend to forget that the only reason your “great” Supreme Leader is in charge is because we _allowed_ him to be.]”

“[Then that proves just how decrepit your idiot leaders are,]” Chan spat, no longer restraining Iida. “[Supreme Leader Gwan hasn’t been on your side for decades.]”

“[Oh, but he never acted on his traitorous urges until he was protected,]” Nuan pointed out with a smile. “[He wouldn’t have dared go against us unless he got protection from XCOM. He is a coward and an insignificant tool. We should have just annexed your country instead of trusting it with Gwan.]”

Her smile faded slightly as she noted both of them tense and ball up their fists. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. “[Remember what I said,]” Chan hissed, taking a step forward and Nuan resisted the urge to step back. “[You’re not in China anymore. And the Commander probably won’t mind if we teach some insolent Chinese agent a lesson.]”

“[Brawling is unbecoming of a soldier,]” Nuan warned. “[At least don’t act like savages.]”

She was hoping they actually listened, since she knew quite well that if it came to a fight, she wasn’t skilled enough to reasonably defend herself, especially against _two_. She hadn’t _intended_ on this ending up quite so…volatile, but they had truthfully brought it on themselves. She’d just heard them commenting on what role they thought the Supreme Leader was going to play in ADVENT and she’d chimed in something along the lines of “Probably one that doesn’t require a lot of thought.”

How exactly was she to know they would become so offended? She’d heard of how bad North Korean brainwashing was, but this was ridiculous. And people called the Chinese indoctrinated communists, ha.

Although her ignorance of that little fact _might_ now lead to her getting beaten up, and that was _not_ exactly how she wanted to spend her first days in XCOM. As it happened, it seemed her appeal to their better natures was _not_ working and they were coming in.

“Hey!”

The words yelled in English caught her attention and she looked to the right to see a small young Asian woman with cropped black hair storming up. There was something in the way her body was moving that immediately put Nuan on alert. It was like watching a predator approach, in complete control and bearing an expression devoid of any sympathy.

Nuan didn’t recognize her, but the two North Koreans clearly did and immediately pulled back. Now that she was closer Nuan noted that something was wrong with her eyes, they had some kind of golden rim to them that gave her an almost…demonic appearance. The fact that she was clearly angry didn’t dispel that image.

“[What is going on?]” She demanded in Korean, looking between the three of them.

Well, she could answer that. “[I believe the two of them were about to, ah, _“Teach me a lesson”_ ]”

The woman fixed her with unsympathetic and cold eyes. “[I could have guessed as much. What exactly prompted that?]”

“[I may have insulted them,]” Nuan admitted.

“[And just _why_ would you think that is a good idea?]” The woman asked softly, Nuan just now realizing how melodic her voice really was.

Nuan shrugged. “[In retrospect, it wasn’t.]”

She narrowed her eyes. “[It usually isn’t. You’re one of the new recruits, correct?]”

“[Yes. Nuan Kun, Liberation Army Strategic Support.]”

“[Carmelita Alba,]” she answered in response. “[So here’s how it works. The general rule is not to insult people here, which should be common sense, but apparently something that some people need to be told. Stop provoking people.]”

Nuan felt herself flush at the reprimand, but then Carmelita turned to the North Koreans. “[And both of you need to stop getting offended every time someone says something vaguely negative about your precious country or Supreme Leader. Some people don’t like North Korea. Suck it up and deal with it. The world doesn’t revolve around you, so stop getting provoked over infuriatingly small things. It’s insulting to everyone else here.]”

Carmelita now looked between both parties. “[Where you come from doesn’t matter here. I don’t care what either country did to you in the past, but here you _will_ be working with each other so you better get used to it. _They_ -]” she pointed to the North Koreans. “[Are not your enemy. _She-_ ]” she pointed at Nuan. “[Is not your enemy. Our only enemy are those aliens coming from space. _Nothing_ else matters. Do I make myself clear?]”

“[Yes, sir,]” Iida and Chan said instantly.

“[Understood,]” Nuan conceded, feeling somewhat mollified after that speech.

“[Good,]” Carmelita said, stepping back. “[I don’t want to have to find this again. If you must beat each other up, do it in the ring.]” At that, she abruptly turned away and strode off. Iida and Chan did the same, clearly wanting to get as far away from her as possible. Nuan just stood there, watching the space where Carmelita had walked off.

Who exactly was she? Probably a ranking soldier, especially since the two North Koreans had reacted so strongly and deferred so easily to her. Carmelita…an interesting name. Didn’t sound Korean, but exceptions existed, and the amount of immigrants that knew Korean was limited, so probably not from the west. Didn’t talk like a North Korean either…so…South Korean then?

Maybe?

It would seem exceptionally unlikely that such a woman would be able to tolerate North Koreans, let alone them actually _deferring_ to her. “Ah, I see you met Carmelita,” a new voice said and she turned to see another man walking up, tall, with black hair and most interestingly, a metal hand. “She can be intense, but she’s one of the best soldiers I’ve worked with.”

“I can believe it,” Nuan said, turning to him. “And who might you be?”

“Mordecai Korhn,” he answered smoothly. “I must say I didn’t expect the Chinese to send anyone else. I assume you are here to to replace Miss Anwei?”

“I am here because China desires to be represented in the leading anti-alien defense,” Nuan answered carefully, trying to ignore mention of the traitor. “While XCOM and the People’s Republic have had differences-“

“Spare me,” he interrupted bluntly, raising his metal hand. “I was Kidon, and I know China _quite_ well. And I can tell you that you’re going to make enemies if you flaunt who you are. _We don’t care_.” Mordecai crossed his arms. “We fight aliens, and that’s what’s important. All of us hate politics at this point since it’s sort of why this mess exists in the first place, and yes, that includes China. But do your job and we won’t judge you.”

He paused. “And if you think that’s too difficult, remember that Carmelita came from South Korea. If anyone has a right to be resentful of the North Koreans, it’s her, but she lost someone she cared about to the aliens. Most of us have and that puts things into perspective. As far as we’re concerned, this is a fresh start for everyone and we’re all working to the same goal. Understand that?”

Nuan narrowed her eyes. “I understand the reasoning.”

He gave a humorless smile. “You probably won’t for some time. But you will eventually. We all do,” he began walking away, then paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “Oh, and don’t hesitate to challenge someone to spar if you feel like a fight. You’ll find plenty of takers. And if you don’t know how…” he gave her an amused shrug. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone to teach you.”

He walked away and left her standing alone again. After a few minutes she scowled and strode over to the treadmills, thinking furiously. This was definitely not how she expected XCOM to be, so she would have to adapt as always.

At least it was more exciting than Beijing.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

Patricia did really wonder what the Commander was waiting for. It was well past time they properly interrogate Aegis, but he was still apparently discussing something important with Saudia, though he’d presumably be back within several hours. In the end it probably didn’t matter, since Aegis clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

In the meantime, she was rather comfortable resting against Creed on the couch. “I assume you watched the address?” She asked as he adjusted his arm around her.

“Of course I did,” he answered. “Not bad ones, from either of them. I should really ask you what you thought of the whole thing, since you can read minds and all that.”

She shrugged against him, feeling several people have their curiosities piqued as they saw them together. _Do something else_ , she sent more as an afterthought, not really relishing having anyone eavesdrop on their conversations. Privacy was unfortunately something of a luxury that only a very few had here.

“It seemed positive overall,” she answered, sounding vague even to herself. “You know I don’t read specific thoughts unless I have reason to. Iseul might be a problem later.”

“No surprise,” Creed grunted. “He _is_ the dictator of North Korea.”

“Not that,” she sighed, sitting up straight. “He’s very…distrustful of psions. Me in particular. He clearly thinks I’m a security risk and have “too much influence” over the Commander.”

Creed didn’t exactly feel surprised at that. “Only because he doesn’t know you. It’s a fair concern though, and then I assume he doesn’t know the Commander…”

“Doubt it,” Patricia said. “In any event, I made sure he won’t be causing problems for the time being.”

Creed looked down at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I psionically suggested to him that it wasn’t an issue and he should focus on more important things,” she answered absentmindedly. “Worked surprisingly well.”

“Patricia…” Creed said slowly. “That…was probably something you should _not_ have done. You do realize _that_ is the reason he might have concerns?”

Patricia frowned and looked up at him, not having expected a rebuke. “No, it was justified. We have more important things to worry about now, and Iseul is the type that would start some kind of witch-hunt against all psions based on things he can’t prove. I prevented that from happening, at least for a while.”

Creed didn’t exactly seem convinced. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But that isn’t going to make people more…accepting of your abilities.”

“It’s not like I mind-controlled him,” Patricia defended. “But I’m not going to refuse to tamper with minds if I feel it’s warranted.”

“I’m not saying you’re necessarily wrong,” Creed placated, sighing. “At least in this case. But I’m just telling you how it might be perceived.”

Patricia appraised him for a few seconds, biting her lower lip. “You’re uncomfortable,” she said slowly after sensing his discomfort with the conversation…or with her. “With me.”

Creed snorted. “Come on, you know it’s a bit more complicated,” he said, picking up her cold hand and placing the palm against the side of his head. “You don’t have to try to figure things out from just my emotions. You’ve been in my head before, I don’t mind you checking occasionally. Prevents misunderstandings.”

She gave a warm smile. “I…thanks for reminding me. You’re-“ she cut herself off as she sensed a sharp and familiar mind coming up, unfortunately focused on them. She let her hand fall to his chest and let it trail down.

“That really is rather sweet,” the familiar accented voice said, which might have been mistaken for mocking had Patricia not sensed that she was just very amused. “I wouldn’t have expected it from either of you to be honest. Had no idea you were even a thing.”

Creed looked up in annoyance at the comically small woman walking around the couch, a face lined with scars and chopped brown hair framing it. “Hello Zara,” Patricia muttered as the soldier took one of the chairs opposite them. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Wait…” Creed muttered, his features clenching as he pinned Zara with a hard stare. “We’ve met, haven’t we?”

“Do I really look that different without the bandanna?” She asked sarcastically. “Or is it the XCOM uniform?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Creed stated flatly, disbelief emanating out of him. “You’re that EXALT soldier.”

Zara gave him several mocking claps. “Well done. In all seriousness, this base is really nice. Even better than the Bastion.”

Creed glanced at her, then at Patricia, then back at Zara. “Sorry, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

Zara leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Well, when the Commander came to us with his oh-so-generous offer to disband, I didn’t want to get stuck in some officer position in ADVENT, so I asked if I could join XCOM. And here I am.”

“You forgot to mention this to me,” Creed muttered to Patricia. “Just slipped your mind?”

“Somewhat,” Patricia admitted, realizing now that she probably should have said something. “But for what it’s worth, I did approve it.”

“She _killed_ our soldiers!”

“Of course I did,” Zara said, raising an eyebrow. “We were enemies. Now we’re allies. Simple as that. And don’t hide behind dead soldiers as a reason to dislike me, since by _my_ count, XCOM killed a lot more of my soldiers that we ever did yours. So as far as I’m concerned, we’re even. Sound fair?”

Creed closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes. “Well even if I wasn’t, I don’t think I have much choice here.”

“Nope,” Zara nodded. “But I don’t intend to betray you. We have a common enemy in the aliens and I’ll fight just as hard for XCOM as I did for EXALT to defeat them.”

“And after the war?” He asked.

“You expecting something to change?” Zara asked bluntly. “EXALT is dead and is never coming back if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, I have no intention of making an enemy of the Commander.”

“Smart,” Patricia commented. “But I do think you’ll fit in provided you can follow orders.”

Zara pursed her lips. “Provided they don’t get me killed.”

Patricia’s wristband buzzed. Ah right, that would likely be Jackson wanting to discuss some recent developments. “Well, you two get to know each other,” she said, leaning up and giving Creed a quick peck on the cheek. “Duty calls.”

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

Jackson had one finger to her headset as they gathered around the holotable. It was somewhat strange doing this with the Commander not being present, but it needed to be done and he’d be sure to catch up later. “Big Sky just checked in,” Jackson informed them, letting her hand fall to her side. “Commander’s on his way back. Should only be a couple hours.”

“Then we interrogate the Ethereal,” Zhang grunted. “Should be illuminating.”

“Should be,” Jackson agreed, pressing several buttons on the holotable. “In the meantime, we need to be ready to respond to the aliens.”

Which was something Patricia was also acutely aware of. “What’s the status of Australia?”

Jackson brought the hologram to rest on the continent, which was covered in varying shades of orange and red. “The status is _bad_ ,” Jackson said unhelpfully. “The aliens have cut outside internet access and disrupted most forms of communication. They’ve taken the major cities and are beginning a concerted effort to annex the nearby cities.”

“The ADF is doing its best,” Zhang said, pointing at the center of the continent. “More of the army survived than it should have and they’re at the northern center to be evacuated. What’s left is being transitioned to a guerilla force. They know the area much better and can turn the land to their advantage.”

“They’ll still need support.” Patricia reminded him.

“Correct,” he nodded. “I’ll be sending them some additional agents. I know ADVENT will be supporting them as well. The information they’ve gathered so far has been…interesting, to say the least.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

Zhang picked up his tablet he’d set on the edge of the holotable. “Such as that Australia isn’t exactly being kind to them. The integration seems to be going slower than they’d like, and the aliens seem to be avoiding specific wildlife like spiders and oddly enough, bees.”

“Bees,” Patricia repeated skeptically. “Why?”

“Unknown still,” Zhang shrugged. “But it does seem to indicate that the aliens might be more susceptible to wildlife than we assumed. They also avoid the seas altogether. Smart considering the kind of life that inhabits them.”

Jackson scratched her chin, looking thoughtfully down at the holotable. “That is interesting. Do you think Vahlen…”

“Vahlen’s actually been working on some new genetic mods,” Patricia interrupted, picking up her own tablet and handing it to Jackson. “It is somewhat…invasive, even for her. She’s also been adapting some of the ideas EXALT had for genetic modification.”

Jackson looked up, her eyebrows scrunched together. “EXALT? They didn’t ever really apply MELD to their soldiers, correct?”

“We never fought them,” Patricia corrected, recalling reading the descriptions of the various EXALT projects. “But they definitely tried. Actually got pretty far along in some of them. Once they transitioned into ADVENT, they send all their files to us. Vahlen took the most promising and has been working on them, in addition to her jellyfish project.”

“And the Manchurian Project, correct?” Zhang said.

“And that,” Patricia confirmed. “But the Commander wants most, if not _all_ of our soldiers to get genetic enhancements. So Vahlen’s been trying to expand the pool of modifications.” Patricia sighed. “We’re going to need to get a new shipment of test subjects soon, make a note of that, Jackson.”

“Will do,” Jackson said wearily, dutifully making a note. “Does the Commander want to make modification mandatory? I thought he was against that.”

“He won’t make it mandatory,” Patricia shrugged. “But he’s going to push for it, at least the small ones. The Secondary Heart in particular is probably the least impactful, but will increase the stamina and survivability for all our soldiers. Vahlen’s also looking into…uh, _generic_ , modification that just does something simple, like increased strength or reflexes. Weaker mods, but not as extensive as the muscle density one.”

“Seems fair enough,” Jackson nodded, rubbing her forehead. “I’m also going to suggest sometime that Vahlen focus her genetic programs beyond external. I wouldn’t turn down a modification that could let me function without sleep.”

“Go for it,” Patricia suggested. “But from talking with her, modifications directly to the brain are extremely difficult. It’s why she’s been hesitant on researching ways to try and enhance my psionics. She just doesn’t have enough information and we can’t really experiment on psionic prisoners.”

“EXALT tried that, apparently,” Zhang noted.

“And look how that turned out,” Patricia countered. “We can focus on psionic testing once Vahlen launches the Manchurian Program. In the meantime…”

“In the meantime, we need to prepare for when the aliens attack,” Jackson redirected, moving the map further north. “The next major attack will probably be Japan, China or somewhere in Africa. The aliens were smart in choosing Australia. They have a staging ground to launch attacks almost anywhere in the world.”

“China isn’t going to be much of a help.” Zhang grunted. “But they can hold their own, especially since they’ve got that dreadnought.”

“We can’t worry about China,” Jackson agreed with a nod. “But it appears that Saudia is sending quite a few soldiers to the Korean peninsula and Japan. They’re still not fully transitioned yet, so they’re relying on local ADVENT garrisons for the main defense. Several US carriers are also near Japan.”

Patricia looked at the map and frowned. “Why would the aliens attack there first? Wouldn’t it make sense to take the Philippines, New Zealand or any other nearby country?”

“It would,” Zhang confirmed somberly. “And I believe they will. But we don’t have any way to reasonably combat them. There aren’t enough soldiers that could be moved there, and the proximity is too close to Australia to be held for long.”

“So they’re being sacrificed.”

“Correct.”

Patricia sighed, but it unfortunately made sense. “What about the Americas?”

“If they really wanted to cause issues, they’d attack South America,” Jackson said, moving the map to the respective continent. “Marshal Luana is continuing her borderline illegal invasion of the neighboring countries and if reports are to be believed, the power has somewhat gone to her head.”

Zhang didn’t show it outwardly, but Patricia definitely sensed his agreement. “Luana may become a problem soon, and the contingent of Peacekeepers ADVENT is sending may only make it worse. I may send some more agents to determine exactly what she hopes to accomplish with this war. Retribution has already been taken, this is just overkill.”

“I could go,” Patricia suggested. “She wouldn’t be able to resist me, or any psion.”

“I agree,” Zhang nodded with a scowl. “But this is ADVENT’s jurisdiction now. Brazil is officially an ADVENT nation and is now subject to their laws, and there are specific conditions that allow the removal of heads of state, and the usage of psions. But XCOM is not to get officially involved.”

Patricia smirked on his emphasis on “officially.” “And unofficially?”

“Unofficially, this will be a good test for Saudia,” Zhang stated emotionlessly, though she sensed an iron resolve within him. “But I would not expect this to be resolved for a while. We and ADVENT have more important issues to deal with.”

“True,” Patricia muttered. “We also need more psions. I have a couple candidates I’m going to bring to the Commander.”

“Good to hear,” Jackson nodded. “And in other good news, Shen confirmed that the Goliath is ready to deploy.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Patricia said approvingly. “Let’s hope it works as well as he simulated.”

Jackson snorted. “You seen that thing? If there’s going to be anything the aliens will be terrified of, it’s a twenty-foot tall robot of death.”

“Don’t forget that the aliens also have their own vehicles we haven’t seen yet,” Zhang warned, narrowing his eyes. “And a target that big might would attract air attacks, not to mention the Ethereals will prioritize it with their psionics.”

“Stop killing our dreams,” Jackson chided. “Besides, Shen put quite a few anti-air countermeasures in the suit, so those should help.”

“Keep your expectations in check,” Zhang said. “That’s all I’m saying.” He picked up his tablet. “I have to delegate some assignments for my agents. Let me know when the Commander returns.”

“Will do,” Patricia promised as he walked out the door.

“Do you have your list of candidates?” Jackson asked once he’d left.

Patricia nodded, and sent another file to her. “Yes, here they are.”

“Thanks,” she answered, focusing on her tablet while Patricia rested her hands on the holomap, trying to envision how this world could be defended, and where the aliens would strike next.

***

_The Praesidium, XCOM Intelligence Control_

This was such a substantial upgrade that Abby wasn’t even sure she was in the right place. While the original Intelligence Control had been functional, but very small, this was almost on the level of Mission Control. There were quite a few analysts in front of several of the dozen computers, with more hooked up to analytical and cryptanalysis equipment she still wasn’t sure how to work.

Soft white light illuminated the room, making the alloy the base was made of sparkle and reflect, further increasing the illumination. In the center was the now-expected holotable, at which Director Zhang was standing in front of now.

Abby took a breath at the entrance, then moved forward. An ironic metaphor right now for where she was emotionally. Don’t think about it. Not yet. Just keep pushing forward.

Move on. But even if psychology wasn’t her field, she knew it was only temporary and running away from what she’d done wouldn’t work out in the long run. But she really didn’t have a choice, or so she thought now. XCOM needed her now, there wasn’t time for periods of reflection. Zhang didn’t exactly seem to buy her explanation that she was ‘fine’ but he’d just frowned and told her to get some rest.

Although that wasn’t easy either. She never remembered her nightmares when she woke up, but she _knew_ she had them because she would always wake up either nauseous or terrified, usually some combination of the two. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the cause, and as a result any sort of rest she got was shot to hell.

If it got worse, it _was_ eventually going to impact her performance in which case her options would likely be limited officially to some kind of psychiatrist. Which might help, but she felt…reluctant to share anything she was feeling with a stranger, even if objectively she knew that it was the best thing for her.

Unofficially…something in her needed to be removed. Her memories or feelings, because she couldn’t continue unaffected with both in her mind.

But that raised a host of new issues, so she was keeping psionic intervention as a last resort. But it was good to know that option existed, should it become necessary.

“Director,” she greeted, giving a brief salute. “What’s the assignment?”

He pressed a button on the holotable and the colored hologram of Australia was brought up. “If you were unaware, Australia is now alien-controlled territory,” he began, moving around the table until he was opposite her. “Based on the location, we can safely assume that the aliens intend to use it as a staging area for their future assaults.”

Abby nodded, she’d assumed as much when she’d heard about the attack. “Do we have an idea where they’ll strike next?”

“We have some guesses,” Zhang admitted. “In a few hours we might have more. But that is irrelevant to why you’re here.” He zoomed the hologram deeper into the continent, near the center north. “Our issue is that we don’t clearly know what is happening, and knowing how the aliens treat captured cities would be invaluable to our efforts to combat them, because more _will_ fall.”

“And you want me to infiltrate one of the cities?” Abby asked. “Pose as a civilian?”

“Not until we have a reliable means to exfiltrate you,” Zhang disputed, shaking his head. “For all we know, once you are in their territory, you can’t get out. No, initially you’ll be working with the ADF, or what’s left of it.”

“Understood,” she nodded. “Who’s in charge?”

“Lincoln Harper, ADF Field Marshal,” Zhang answered, motioning her to a beige file that was resting on the holotable corner. Abby picked it up and one of the first images was of a man with graying hair, haggard face and weary blue eyes. Appeared to be the one, according to the note on the side. “He’s been rallying the ADF and transitioning the best soldiers he has into a guerilla force.”

“What about the rest?” Abby asked, looking into the passionless face of Zhang. “I doubt all of them would be suitable for guerilla tactics.”

“Correct,” Zhang confirmed. “The majority of the surviving military has evacuated with what civilians they could rescue. They are being integrated into ADVENT now, though most of them are still in Japan. What remains is mostly special forces, ones who know the territory and will exploit it as much as possible.”

Abby tried not to sound skeptical. “I somehow doubt the aliens are going to be scared by the wildlife.”

“That’s one reason I want you there,” Zhang continued, looking slightly amused. “Because the one agent I have there already _does_ confirm that the aliens are definitely being more cautious in the wilderness than should be expected. If the aliens are concerned about the environment, we need to know _exactly_ what that is.”

“What else?” Abby asked.

“We need to know the forces they are deploying, and how they’re keeping the cities under control,” Zhang said. “There are reports of new alien types we haven’t seen before.”

“Any Ethereals?”

“My contact there did appear to find one,” Zhang confirmed grimly. “Unfortunately we have no idea what it can do, except some kind of mass mind control. Furthermore, it hasn’t been seen anywhere since. But it’s entirely possible that there is at least _one_ Ethereal in Australia…” He paused. “Speaking of which, there has been a development you need to keep in mind when discussing matters with Marshal Harper.”

Abby waited. “What is it?”

“Shortly after the first attack in Australia, we received reports of another abduction and quickly responded,” Zhang said, his piercing eyes pinning her own. It was an intensity she was unprepared for. “Psion Trask led a team and it turned out to be exactly what we didn’t expect. There was no abduction, the citizens were simply knocked out.”

Abby went cold. “It was an Ethereal. Did we…did we kill _another_ one?”

The first thought had actually been to ask if everyone had survived, but since Patricia was clearly still alive, that was a silly question. But if it had gone wrong _or_ right, she thought there would have been _something_ said.

“It was an Ethereal,” Zhang confirmed slowly. “But no, we didn’t kill it. The Ethereal surrendered.”

Abby coughed, mostly out of not knowing what else to do. Zhang was the least humorous person she’d ever met in her life. He would _not_ start making jokes now. “Sorry, sir…but… _what_?”

Zhang snorted. “About my reaction as well, Agent Gertrude. But yes, the Ethereal surrendered and is currently being held under heavy guard in the labs and the new alien containment, for what little good it does. He will be thoroughly interrogated within a few hours, which was delayed since we needed to execute both the Demeter Contingency and Advent Directive, but if he is to be believed, he wants to help.”

“And just _why_ would you trust an Ethereal?” Abby demanded. “You _do_ remember what they can do.”

“I _don’t_ trust him,” Zhang growled at her, making her take a step back. “Give us some credit, _Agent_. But there are several reasons we believe he is mostly genuine. Patricia engaged the Ethereal at first and he beat the entire team with ease. The Ethereal that attacked the Citadel was apparently one of the weaker ones.”

“Damn it,” Abby muttered. “Of _course_ it was.”

“The second reason is that this Ethereal is…known to us,” Zhang continued. “ _Aegis,_ he calls himself. He’s had intermittent telepathic contact with the Commander over the past few months, which he has kept us updated on.”

“The Commander somehow managed to convince an Ethereal to defect,” Abby said flatly. “You’re kidding.”

“That remains to be seen,” Zhang cautioned. “It is more likely that this Ethereal has an agenda of his own, and we are his best chance to enact it. We know very little about the Ethereals and their culture, this could be genuine or it could be a political move. They don’t _think_ like us.” Zhang clasped his hands behind his back. “The point is that _if_ Aegis’ defection is genuine, we will likely make rapid advancements and learn things we likely shouldn’t. Until the Commander deems it important, this information is _not_ to be shared with anyone. Given what the public knows about the Ethereals, as well as ADVENT, the last thing we need is to have people believe we are compromised. Understood?”

“Understood,” she confirmed. “But what about the soldiers? They deserve to know we have an _Ethereal_ here. How don’t they know already?”

“Because Aegis is in an area only very few can enter,” Zhang said. “Rest assured the Commander agrees. But he wants to interrogate Aegis first, learn what he knows, before sharing it with the rest of XCOM. So don’t mention it to anyone else at this point.”

“Got it,” Abby said. “When am I leaving?”

Zhang glanced at his watch. “One hour. Pack what you need and go to the Hangar. Shattered Sky will be taking you to Australia.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “New pilot?”

“One of several,” Zhang confirmed. “And a slightly modified skyranger for intelligence operations.”

“Sounds good,” Abby said, saluting him. “I’ll report as soon as I arrive.”

“Understood, Agent Gertrude,” Zhang said, returning her salute. “And I will update you with any pertinent information once Aegis is interrogated.”

“I almost wish I could watch.” Abby said.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Zhang said, his lips curling up. “If it goes well, you might have a chance to talk with him.”

Abby thought about what she would ask an Ethereal, shook her head and turned to exit. _That_ train of thought would only lead to a bunch of questions she really didn’t have the energy to ponder. The revelation alone was enough to process, which she had a feeling she was going to do the entire ride to Australia.

***

_The Praesidium, Alien Containment_

The Commander held his hand over the sensor which displayed the XCOM logo as a hologram and drew upon his psionic power. The air around his hand distorted and the hologram flashed to a solid blue, and the door opened up.

“Do you want me to protect you from his aura?” Patricia asked as they walked into the containment areas. The room had once held likely dozens of alien species, prone as the Sectoids were to experimenting on them. They had prepared well. Each cell was designed with a kind of one-way substance, was completely isolated from each other, had complete environmental controls over temperature and oxygen and most interestingly, several had some kind of stasis generator that completely froze a subject in place.

Shen was still analyzing those machines to reverse-engineer them so they could be applied elsewhere. As of now there was no alien being held that warranted that, and though there were several Vitakara who hadn’t been sufficiently useful or trustworthy enough for Vahlen to use, there were a good amount of them working with her.

He still wouldn’t trust them until the Manchurian Project was finished, but until then, the chips in their brains and organs should be enough to deter any foolish rebellion. Not to mention Vahlen had made it very clear that should any one of them go against her orders, they would be the next test subjects.

As it was, she was standing in front of the circular glass container containing their Ethereal friend. It was almost the same as the one in the Citadel, but built from purely alien materials and created specifically for holding psionic individuals. Four arms extended from the ceiling of the cell with oval sensors that emanated a faint pulsing blue light, a form of disruption, Vahlen claimed, that would make it difficult for a psion to concentrate enough to unleash their powers.

The only issue he had was that, when the concept of alien containment had been created so long ago, it had been designed to hold a _Sectoid_. Not even a Hive Commander. Still, Vahlen had stressed that the cell was more to _disrupt_ the psion, not _suppress_ them. Even still, in the future that wouldn’t be good enough.

And it didn’t exactly appear to be working either. The unnatural sensation of embodiment and assurance was…not unpleasant. But he could sense the psionic suggestion affecting his mind, reinforcing those feelings. While he doubted that Aegis did it intentionally, he didn’t want to have his judgement impaired, nor anyone else’s.

“Shield us if you can,” he told Patricia as he approached them. She nodded and he immediately sensed power gathering around her. Luckily she’d told him that it wasn’t particularly difficult, especially if she concentrated on an area, not specific people. All of them were here too, good. Time to get some answers.

“Has he done anything?” The Commander asked Vahlen. She turned, smiling as she saw him, though knew this wasn’t the time for any intimate moments.

“No,” she answered. “He’s just sat there, barely moving at all.”

The Commander looked into the white cell, at the true form of Aegis who’d taken an interest in him for unknown reasons. Like all the Ethereals they’d encountered, this one had a kind of robe that hid the body itself completely. Unlike the Ravaged One, Aegis’ was a navy blue, with what looked like silver embroidery running down the robe.

It was pristine as well, or just extremely well preserved like it had never been worn. Perhaps it was a quality of the material itself, or Aegis just preferred keeping his clothing in top shape. Either way, it only added to his intimidating appearance, culminating in the helmet.

The helmet itself _seemed_ to have been based on the Ravaged One; at least it was very similar with the curved angles and edges hiding the eyes, and of course the gaping hole in the middle that he still wasn’t sure was supposed to represent a mouth or not. Like the rest of him, it was pristine and shining in the harsh light of the cell.

“Do we talk now, or should we let him out?” Zhang asked, his arms crossed.

“Does it make a difference?” Jackson asked. “Didn’t we only put him there because we didn’t know where else?”

“Good point,” Patricia said, her irises a deep purple as she suppressed Aegis’ aura which was fading almost instantly. “I think that if he wanted to hurt us, he would have done it by now.”

“If you decide to hold our conversation with this glass between us, I would ask you please shut off these… _disruptors_ ,” Aegis said, his deep echoing voice as loud and clear as if he was standing next to them. “It is an irritant that I have tolerated, but does nothing to limit my powers, Doctor Vahlen.”

Vahlen’s only response was a sigh and she moved to adjust the cell controls. “I suspected as much,” she muttered. “Unfortunate, but something to improve in the next iteration.” She looked behind her to the Commander. “Should I let him out?”

Objectively, the smartest thing to do would be to still hold this with some barrier between them, but the Commander saw no reason to actually do so. Whatever would happen, Aegis was unlikely to attack them. If he did, it was doubtful that any of them would survive, glass or no. “Do it.” he said.

A door behind Aegis opened and the Ethereal stood, and with a surprising amount of fluidity for an alien his size, turned and exited and walked down the ramp to face the small council. He really was extremely tall, the Commander noted, acutely aware of having to look up at the Ethereal. It was…strange being so close to not only an alien, but learning the secrets of what was likely the most powerful alien species in the galaxy.

“All of you have questions,” Aegis began, looking at each of them. “That is apparent, and I will answer what I can.”

All of them exchanged glances, and unconsciously waited for the Commander to continue. He supposed it didn’t make much of a difference who went first, as they wouldn’t be leaving until they had a reasonable amount of information. “Very well,” the Commander said. “Who are you, really?”

“Who I said I was,” Aegis said. “I was the Aegis of the Skyllian Sector, once the domain of the Ethereal Empire. Now I am simply Aegis, again once of the Ethereal Collective.”

Already interesting information. “Aegis is a title then,” the Commander noted. “Not a name.”

“We have discussed this, Commander,” Aegis said, looking down at him. “Much like how your title is interwoven into who you are, so it is with me. An Aegis was… _is_ a defender, protector and watcher, as am I. I would not have taken this as my name had I not embodied those ideals to the fullest.”

“You were _once_ ,” Patricia said. “I suppose your…Ethereal Empire…doesn’t exist anymore?”

“No.” Aegis said flatly. “It does not.”

“The Ethereal Collective is the successor to it, I assume?” The Commander guessed.

He sensed the Ethereal hesitating. “Yes and no, Commander. It is true that we are the leaders, but the Collective is no longer mostly comprised of Ethereals, nor is our directive the same.”

Vahlen raised an eyebrow. “And what directive is that?”

“To protect this galaxy and avenge our species,” Aegis answered. “The story is a long one, so I suggest you ask unrelated questions before I tell you.”

“Why are you here?” Zhang asked bluntly.

“The Collective or myself?”

“Both.”

Aegis nodded his helmet. “Because we were instructed to go here.”

Even the Commander felt the shock run through each other, as it did with him. If the _Ethereals_ were instructed to come here… “When you say that _you_ were instructed to come…”

“I mean my species, the ones you call Ethereals,” Aegis confirmed. “We received no explanation, no reason, just several sets of coordinates. We sent scouts which found your world and believed we had simply been given another species for our Collective.”

“Wait,” Patricia said, raising a hand. “You _answer_ to _another_ alien species?”

“Yes…and no,” Aegis said. “We are working towards the same goal. These aliens suffered a similar fate to our own and want to prevent it from happening again. We do not _answer_ to them, but they are… _suggestive_. The Imperator suspects they may be as old as the galaxy itself, perhaps more. Billions of years, compared to our relatively short existence.”

“And what exactly do you know about them?” The Commander demanded. “How _could_ you know that?”

“Because of their interactions with us,” Aegis said. “They are not the ones of a species that is concerned with even the affairs of our own species. There is an arrogance to them, a dismissal, they certainly have their own agenda and likely view us as a means to carry out their defense of the galaxy. They have no name for themselves, only identifying themselves as the Sovereign Ones.”

“Perhaps you should tell the whole story,” Vahlen suggested slowly. “From the beginning.”

“I will start where it is relevant,” Aegis stated. “Approximately two hundred thousand years ago the Ethereal Empire spanned roughly a quarter of the known galaxy, with further expansion against other alien races planned. Compared to your world, it was a utopia. Our mastery of genetic engineering had enabled us to eradicate disease, disability and undesirable traits that plague underdeveloped species, such as your own. All Ethereals were driven by one goal and one goal only: The ultimate perfection of our species.”

“So like the Sectoids.” Jackson commented. “An Empire dominated by those in charge-“

“Do not compare us to those beasts,” Aegis growled, his voice deepening. “Contrary to what you understand, Ethereals were not _forced_ into achieving this goal, it was a natural desire. Selfishness, greed, hate, those traits we simply removed, leaving only the ones that would allow a positive impact. And it was _working_. Each generation of Ethereals was stronger, smarter and better than the last.”

“How was this achieved?” Vahlen asked curiously. “Was your species grown, or did modification happen in the womb…or however you gave birth?”

“Most Ethereals were grown, created from a combination of various stored DNA,” Aegis answered. “Natural births are rare for Ethereals, even before we developed technology allowing us to grow more of our kind. It was offset by our long lifespan, but true Ethereal children are gifts; and they were often the purest of us. Our biology naturally took the superior DNA from both parents and distilled it into the child. But as I said, it was very rare, even at the height of the Empire, but it was what all Ethereals strove for.”

“Out of curiosity, how long _is_ your lifespan?” Patricia asked.

“Our _natural_ lifespan was roughly one thousand years,” Aegis answered. “However, once we mastered genetic modification, aging was a problem we negated completely. Every Ethereal alive today is effectively immortal. We will never die of old age.”

“ _How_?” Vahlen and Shen asked at the same time.

“I am not a scientist,” Aegis said, with what appeared to be a mimicry of a shrug. “But it was described once as a…switch. A genetic switch hidden within us that dictated our aging. Our modern bodies are simply engineered to never wear out or become slow. There is a…maintenance process of sorts, required genetic upkeep. But it is a trifling annoyance at worst. It is also not something we have been able to replicate with any other species. The Vitakara, Mutons, Andromedons…and Humans.”

The Commander frowned. “Andromedons?”

“The aliens in the armored suits who are fond of toxins,” Aegis explained. “I will describe them later. Only the Sectoids have a similar mastery over themselves, and even the Hive Commanders will only live for five thousand years.”

Andromedons. Huh. The Commander wondered if it was possibly related to the Andromeda _galaxy_. That would be an extremely massive coincidence if it wasn’t the case. “Nartha said there were rumors that the Ethereals were suffering from some kind of genetic disease,” the Commander recalled. “Is that true?”

“Ah, the defector,” Aegis mused. “A rumor that is based in truth. Yes, some of us are beginning to exhibit signs of genetic breakdown. Should it go untreated, we will all perish, it is true. But what Nartha did not know was that this is not the first time we have been afflicted with this “disease.” I believe that it will be the two hundredth and second time it has arisen, and we will cure it as we have before. It is related to our immortality, and the genetic maintenance I was referring to. Even if we did nothing, it would take nearly a century to actually kill us.”

“Fascinating,” Vahlen murmured. “You mentioned that your biology naturally takes the superior genetics to create a better Ethereal. Was it discovered your species was engineered by outside forces? Because I don’t know how you could find a switch on aging, not to mention the ability to remove unsavory traits, if you were completely natural.”

“It is not secret,” Aegis said. “It was… commonly accepted that we were the result of tampering from outside forces. Perhaps an attempt to create a perfect species, or perhaps a failed experiment. It mattered little to us, as whomever had created us was long gone. We simply continued their work.”

“And did you manage to do it?” Shen asked. “Create the perfect Ethereal?”

“The Empire was close to creating them,” Aegis said slowly. “Upon some reflection, I do not believe we would have ever reached our goal. ‘Perfect’ is subjective. A warrior will have a different idea of perfection than a scholar and so on. I now know that we _didn’t_ create the perfect Ethereal, just yet one more superior iteration. Had we not been attacked, I believe these debates would have quickly consumed the Empire as the commonly accepted ‘perfection’ became splintered and divided.”

“Who were you attacked by?” The Commander asked. “A rival alien species?”

“Initially, yes,” Aegis confirmed. “All of them at once. Lesser species, of course, and we easily repelled their inferior numbers and technology. But it was a surprise, and it was also clear that there was something wrong with them. All of them had at one point been subjected to some kind of mind-alteration and were either driven insane or were autonomous versions of themselves, driven by some kind of mental programming.”

Aegis paused for a few seconds. “The attacks continued ceaselessly, as they threw their numbers against us with no regard for their own lives. By now we knew that these attacks and coordination were being orchestrated by something else, so we launched our own offensive into one of the territories and saw what had happened.”

“Which was?” Patricia asked.

“The first attacks were distractions, as we’d suspected,” Aegis continued. “The rest of the species were being converted into much more powerful and altered versions of themselves. Mixes of prosthetics, cybernetics and extensive genetic modification. All of them were designed specifically to nullify all of our advantages. Armored brutes to withstand our weapons and psionic storms; soldiers without brains to resist our mind control; psionic abilities we didn’t know existed and tools that nullified our weaponry. Discovering the first converted planet was a bloodbath, and we were easily destroyed. That was when the war began in earnest.”

Aegis’ tone grew more somber. “The attacks caught us flat-footed, as we knew there were no other species even close to us, and were too arrogant enough to treat this as a serious threat. Many outlying worlds fell to the Synthesized army, for that was the only term we deemed appropriate for what was described. It was an unending horde being produced from within the inner galaxy, and even with our weapons and psionics, one that began overwhelming us.”

“How did you have no idea this was happening?” Zhang demanded. “Did you not have spies? Any sort of reconnaissance?”

“We did,” Aegis admitted. “But we were not interested in the other species unless it suited our interests. Several lesser species once made the mistake of attacking us, and we responded by wiping out their species, stripping their genetic code, taking their traits and improving our own. Over time the other species learned to avoid us, unfortunately to our downfall.”

“Arrogance,” Zhang muttered under his breath.

“It was,” Aegis agreed. “But arrogance borne out of generations of being the apex species of the galaxy. It is irrelevant now, as a concerted war effort began within the Empire and we went to war.”

“And what does that look like?” Patricia wondered.

“It would be easier to show you,” Aegis said, withdrawing a purple hand, palm loosely raised in their direction. “A memory of what we once were.”

The Commander exchanged a look with Patricia, and she gave a nod. Aegis had been relatively straightforward so far, so this likely wasn’t a trick. “Go ahead,” he told Aegis. “Show us.”

“Then watch.” Aegis said, and his palm flashed purple and everything went white.

***

_He stood in front of an army of ten thousand strong, the Ethereal soldiers standing in gleaming chrome armor, capes flapping in the wind as their unified helmets looked towards the Battlemasters and the ranking Aegis of this sector. Each soldier was armed according to their station, denoted by the colored stripe across their armor._

_Blue denoted the defenders he would be leading, psionic masters specializing in defense on a smaller scale; green and yellow denoted the mid and long-range fighters, plasma and beam weapons in their hands, enhanced with cybernetics and focused by the aura of the Overminds. Purple revealed the destructive psions, whose power would rip this world and the Synthesized in it asunder; black showed the assassins, the ones who clouded the sensors and minds of the enemy and systematically slaughtered them._

_And finally, those in red would be the ones fighting and dying on the front lines, under the directions of the Battlemasters, the large arrays of blades they wielded would soon be tested in a battle many were unprepared for. He stood on the elevated balcony, the spires of the Watchtower behind him as the Battlemaster of Skyllian stood to his right, and the respective Overmind further still. Behind them were still more; the elite of each, the lesser Overminds cloaked in orange robes and the disciples of the Battlemaster bearing greatswords and distinctive helms, a symbol of how far they had come._

_The electronic scream that resonated in their ears far longer than it should have tore across the atmosphere, and he extended his power to the fleet above, discovering it was losing to the twisted ships of flesh and steel. He looked up and saw the first of the ships approaching, all on a suicide path to the Watchtower, and behind them was what they had dreaded._

_A Director Flagship, what they all suspected to contain the leaders behind the Synthesized. It functioned in ways beyond simply a capital ship that dwarfed their own, but also had leg-like appendages that allowed it to land on planets and directly command the forces, and its unique brand of the Gift was enough to test that of the Overminds._

_He raised his hand, knowing what needed to be done and his hand flashed and a purple-tinted bubble formed around him, and expanded to encircle the entirely of the Watchtower within seconds. Ships crashed against his barrier or were shot out of the sky by the soldiers who were already moving towards the Director Flagship which had landed what appeared to be several miles away._

_And with a roared command from the Battlemaster, the army of Ethereals began to wage war on the scourge that had come to take their home._

_***_

The Commander blinked and was suddenly back in the cells. The rest of them appeared similarly disoriented at first. “That…was certainly something,” Jackson coughed. “That Battlemaster…was he-“

“As it happens, yes, that is the same one alive today,” Aegis confirmed. “We were victorious that day, though it was one of the few victories we enjoyed, and most of those were early in the war. As more Ethereals fell to the Synthesized and their forces, our control became less and less.”

“The flagships,” Shen said, frowning. “What was special about them? Aside that they could operate in space and land.”

“Because they were somehow conduits for the Gift,” Aegis explained. “It was an amplifying force beyond anything we could conceive of, and it allowed unprecedented control over their own forces, and not even Ethereals were immune to its mental power. And roughly about mid-way through the war, a new problem emerged.”

“What was?” The Commander asked.

“Ethereals suddenly began betraying us,” Aegis said sadly. “For no explained reason they began fighting, sabotaging and killing us. Not just regular soldiers and citizens. Battlemasters, Aegis’ and Overminds were corrupted somehow, and it was only after capturing and analyzing them did we figure out that their minds had somehow been altered by the Synthesized themselves, psionically, though we never did learn how it was accomplished.”

Vahlen frowned. “Why not? That would seem to be rather important.”

“Because of two reasons,” Aegis explained. “A new tactic was being utilized, and it was, simply put, the destruction of worlds. The Director Flagships were the key, but waging conventional battle was costing too many Ethereals, so a way had to be devised to destroy the Flagships without sacrificing too many Ethereals. And a way was discovered.”

“You baited them to a planet?” Zhang guessed.

“Yes,” Aegis said. “Or we moved many Ethereals there and quickly evacuated them, or left civilian colonies or city planets mysteriously undefended, hoping that would bait them into landing and capturing the population.”

“And it worked.” Shen muttered under his breath.

“Initially, yes,” Aegis said slowly. “They would land and we would use one of the Reapers, Ethereals engineered for maximum psionic destructive potential. Their power was strong enough that those around them would begin disintegrating from the sheer power they wielded, and they used that power to warp the worlds they faced, creating devastating psionic storms that wiped out planets in a matter of hours-including any Flagships on the surface.”

The Commander furrowed his eyebrows. “And just why didn’t you use them in conventional warfare? Why not against a fleet or army?”

“Because they were not fools,” Aegis hissed. “They _knew_ the Reapers were the greatest threat they faced, and they prioritized them above all others. One Reaper might destroy a fleet, but the Flagships had an uncanny ability to pinpoint the location of one and kill them. It didn’t help that at their height, only one thousand Reapers existed. It was all that could be created because the remainder of resources had been poured into what was deemed the only hope for the Empire.”

“And what was that?” Zhang asked.

“The Imperators,” Aegis revealed. “The quintessential Ethereal, as perfect as it could be. The power of a Reaper, the defensive talent of an Aegis, the dominating telepathic might of an Overmind and the physical prowess of a Battlemaster. We knew the Imperators could turn the tide of the war and initially…they did. We regained ground, killed thousands of Flagships under the direction of the Imperators.”

“I am going to guess it didn’t work forever,” Patricia guessed. “Since you’re here right now.”

“No, because they adapted,” Aegis said. “Worlds were ignored in favor of Imperators, they continued somehow converting Ethereals into traitors, used for assassination and spying. It was costly, but they were killing Imperators faster than they could be regrown. We were going to lose everything, and finally one Imperator created a contingency plan for the species to survive.”

Aegis paused. “He persuaded several various Ethereals, the best, brightest and most powerful to give up the war and preserve themselves in cryostasis until the war ended and they could rebuild and analyze the threat unhindered. Some turned him down, and others, like myself, joined as we had realized that all that remained was a slow and agonizing defeat forestalled by each brief Imperator victory. And so we gathered on an unnamed planet hidden from even the other Imperators, with all the gathered knowledge the Imperator could gather, and froze ourselves and the war passed in an instant.”

“And when you woke, everything was gone,” Patricia whispered.

“Barely ruins remained,” Aegis confirmed. “We had been resting for nearly two hundred thousand years, far beyond what was likely necessary, but the last Imperator had apparently taken no chances. Equipped with our knowledge, purpose and remaining technology, we began exploring what was equivalent to a new galaxy.”

“I expect that was…difficult,” Vahlen said. “Did you even have a plan? Or did you plan to wander aimlessly?”

Aegis fixed her with a helmeted stare that reeked of condescension. “Perhaps you should think about that for several minutes, Doctor Vahlen. _Yes_ , the Imperator had a plan. We would locate other species, uplift them into soldiers with our knowledge with the ultimate goal being to prepare them for when the Synthesized would return, because we _knew_ they would. We quickly found evidence of other alien species that had been destroyed in the centuries we were asleep, which told us that they would come again, but _this_ time we would be prepared.”

“Which species did you encounter first?” The Commander asked.

“The Sectoids we made contact with accidentally,” Aegis said. “The Imperator sensed psionic potential and we found the Sectoids. They initially were…resistant to us, though the Overmind bent the minds of the Hive Commanders to work with us, a fact they are unaware of to this day. We quickly discovered that despite their potential, they lacked the psionic ability to be worthy commanders in our new Collective.”

“And the Vitakara?” Shen asked.

“They fulfilled the role of spies and intelligence quite well,” Aegis explained. “Though they are ultimately viewed as disposable due to their lack of psionic sensitivity, their genetic malleability and heightened intelligence makes them a worthwhile investment, and they are loyal to us as we saved them from their genetic plague.”

“A question,” the Commander interrupted. “Just how large _is_ your Collective? In terms of planets or army size.”

“Not nearly large enough to wage a dedicated war with the Synthesized,” Aegis revealed. “The current size of the Collective is roughly one thousand occupied planets, with many being small colony worlds. It is enough to easily overwhelm your planet.” He shook his head. “But the size is less relevant than you think. Because soon after uplifting the Vitakara, we were contacted by the Sovereign Ones, who demanded to know what we were doing.”

Aegis’ tone was slightly amused. “They were apparently surprised that we were survivors of the Empire, much less that we were planning to rebuild an army to oppose the Synthesized. Once it was clear what our intentions were, they offered to help us, provide their knowledge and own technology to improve beyond what we currently had. We accepted mostly out of necessity, as their knowledge helped us map out the current galaxy, including what new alien species have advanced to the point of space travel, but those are irrelevant at the moment.”

“You don’t seem to know much about them,” Patricia noted. “Despite seemingly working with them.”

“Because we _don’t_ ,” Aegis said. “And _that_ is a point of conflict within us. The Imperator does not trust them, and believes they are attempting to use us in some larger plot. I don’t dispute that the Sovereign Ones have their own agenda, but the fact is that they suffered the same fate as us once, and I believe they are fully committed to destroying the Synthesized. Not all gain their attention, and out of all the advanced species in the galaxy, they chose _us_ to be the vanguard.”

Aegis looked directly at the Commander. “Or so I had thought. When they revealed the location of your world I wondered why they were intervening now, as they had not done so before. As the testing of your kind progressed, I believed it was because they had successfully identified a superior soldier species to our others, one that was capable of wielding the Gift…” Aegis trailed off.

“In some ways…the Imperator was justified in his sacrifice of the Ravaged One, because it confirmed to me _why_ we had been shown your world. _Why_ your species was important. It is because _we_ are not the species that is destined to lead the defense of this galaxy,” he said, withdrawing a hand and pointing a finger at the Commander. “It is _yours_ who is to be the vanguard.”

There was dead silence at that. Simply put, the Commander wasn’t sure what exactly to feel. On one hand, he doubted Aegis was lying, Patricia or Vahlen would have sensed something, and it explained _why_ an Ethereal would defect to them. But on the other hand it seemed…frankly unbelievable, even with what they knew now. If what he was saying _was_ true though…they were in _way_ over their heads.

And at the same time, it would explain why the Ethereals were so desperate to control them…or ally with them, as the case may be. “I suppose this particular theory isn’t exactly popular?” The Commander guessed.

“The Imperator flatly disputes it,” Aegis said. “But his judgement is…clouded. He has yet to come to the realization I have: Our species is dying. He believes eventually we can rebuild the Ethereals, rebuild the Empire of old, but I know better. Even clones would take half a century to grow at the minimum, and there are simply too few of us left. We may be among the most powerful beings in the galaxy…but humanity has the potential to be just as great as us. No one disputes that, the only question is what role we believe your species should play in the future. I happen to believe it should be as allies to us, with yours taking the lead while we advise from behind. The Imperator wants a subservient psionic army, one as powerful as the Empire but his to command. However, I fear he is no longer objective when it comes to preparing for the future. He is too suspicious of the Sovereign Ones, too certain of our own superiority, too arrogant to see the threat you pose not just to our species, but to others as well. If he missteps here, the galaxy will feel the repercussions for decades. I do not want to see the galaxy consumed by a pointless war several centuries in the future.”

 “Unless he just decides to come down and end this quickly,” the Commander said. “We’ve done well, but an Ethereal that can destroy a planet is something we have very few defenses against.”

“You’re both underestimating and mischaracterizing,” Aegis hissed. “He does not _want_ a mindless army of Humans. He want to _shape_ your species into what he views as a superior iteration of yourselves, ones rivaling us, but _completely loyal_ to him. You do not accomplish that by _destroying_ the world of the species you wish to use! He has a _plan_ to accomplish this, and unfortunately, I do not know what that plan is. His contact was…intermittent recently, and by the end, I believe he suspected my loyalties were wavering. But by taking this drastic step I do believe that several others will begin to ask questions.”

“Such as what?” Vahlen asked.

“Such as why we went to Earth,” Aegis said. “The Sovereign Ones told us, yes, but the Imperator took the credit himself. His word is considered above reproach and I was the only one who went to confirm myself and found the truth. He will ignore the concerns of the others at his own peril.”

After a minute or so of silence, the Commander finally spoke again. “Well then. That was informative, and explains why this happening. The question now is where to go forward. How is the Ethereal Collective going to take Earth?”

Aegis audibly breathed heavily. “I do not know. Battle operations were obscured to me before I left, likely on orders of the Imperator. I can only speculate based on what I know of the Ethereals behind the invasion.”

Not what he was hoping for, but far better than nothing. “We can discuss specifics later, but what exactly did you bring to help us? Aside from your own skills, we did find that cube on you that we assume holds information.”

“If you wish to wage war against the Collective, you will need to be as advanced if not more than them,” Aegis said. “Within that cube are schematics for Sovereign-level plasma weapons, armor, aircraft, as well as several additional schematics that I believe you will find a use for. You have been…innovative with the substance you call MELD, though lack a way to recreate it. That is now corrected.”

Vahlen’s eyes widened and the Commander felt the excitement grow in the room. With the ability to manufacture MELD at will…that alone could change the course of the war. Of course there were probably drawbacks such as a lack of resources…but those were issues that could be circumvented.

“In addition, you will need access to the Gateways,” Aegis said. “They were given to us by the Sovereign Ones, a method of instantaneous travel between two points. It is our main method of transportation in the Collective. Our fleets do not travel thousands of light years over the course of weeks, but simply configure the nearest Gateway to the one built on the edge of your solar system.”

“Teleportation,” Shen breathed. “How-“

“You would likely be able to answer that better than I, Engineer Shen,” Aegis said. “The theory is…beyond me. Even Revelean, our leading scientist does not fully understand how it works, which naturally makes him suspicious. But they work, I can assure you, and with Gateways configured at the right points, XCOM would have the ability to reinforce anywhere in the world.”

The Commander smiled. Regardless of if the story Aegis had relayed was true or not, _this_ was where his specialty was. He would sort out what to make of Aegis’ belief of humanity being some kind of chosen species to defend the galaxy later, but the fact remained that they were at war with the Ethereal Collective, and these were the kind of tools he would use to orchestrate their defeat.

They refused to simply conquer with force? Fine, he would play the Imperator’s game.

Then make him pay dearly for it. Willingly or not, he would not let Humanity become a pawn in an intergalactic game between species hundreds of thousands of years old. Perhaps it was arrogance to believe that he could overcome them despite their age, knowledge, technology and power, but he also knew that there was no other choice.

“Finally,” Aegis finished. “Your psions will need to be properly trained. They have made impressive strides, but there is no time for natural learning. You and your psions must become powerful enough to rival Ethereals, Patricia Trask, and I will provide the means to do so.”

Patricia smiled, her eyes glowing purple. “That, I look forward to.”

“I think I’ve heard enough to make a decision,” the Commander said. “We can debate the intricacies of our role in the greater galaxy later, but as it stands now, we have a planet to defend and a war to win. You can clearly help us, and seem to want to, so will you assist us against the Ethereals?”

Aegis inclined his head. “I will fight on your side, and protect your soldiers and species. But I will not kill an Ethereal. But I will not stop you from doing the same.”

The Commander nodded. “Acceptable enough, Aegis. Welcome to XCOM. We have a lot to do now.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

Subsection 1.2: Legislative, Judicial and Executive Structures

** Legislative Structure:  **

Overview: The purpose of the ADVENT legislature is to provide each member nation with an equal voice in matters affecting the entire ADVENT state, and to ensure that misconduct, interference and obstruction are kept to a minimum:

Number of Representatives: Each member nation shall be limited to _1_ representative in the ADVENT Congress of Nations. Each representative will have equal rights and privileges, and this status can be transferred between the current Head of State of a member nation and the representative under highly specific circumstances.

Head of the Congress of Nations: The Chancellor of ADVENT will act as the head the Congress of Nations, though will only be permitted to vote in the event of a tie.

Appointment: The representatives will be decided via a democratic election, with the candidates being approved by the current Executive Branch before such an election takes place. Representatives will hold their position for four years, up to a maximum of twelve. After this they are approved for several restricted State positions which are detailed further on.

Military Intervention: The ADVENT Congress of Nations does not have binding authority on the ADVENT Military, as well as the executive branch, though laws can be passed that can affect the military itself.

Bypassing of the ADVENT Chancellor: In the event that the Chancellor of ADVENT vetoes a passed bill, it can be overridden by a three-fourths majority. In addition, the overturning of executive actions by the chancellor must simply pass a majority vote.

** Judicial Structure: **

                Levels of Judicial Courts:

  * City 
    * The lowest court that will deal with local disputes and minor crime.


  * Ward 
    * An equivalent court to the City level, but encompassing large cities with a population size of larger than 500,000


  * Region 
    * The court that deals with disputes and crime that affects multiple cities in the designated region.
  * Nation 
    * The highest court in the ADVENT member nation that holds court on issues and crime affecting the entire nation.


  * Sector 
    * The court that deals with cases that affect an entire continent mass, or equivalent area.


  * Global 
    * The highest court in ADVENT, settling disputes and issues that affect the entirety of ADVENT.
  * Supreme 
    * The court that hears challenges to laws to determine if they are in accordance with the Advent Directive. Note that this court is not higher than the Global Courts.



Types of Courts:

  * Civil 
    * Handles non-Criminal civil disputes such as vehicle accidents, divorce, etc.
  * Non-violent Crime 
    * Handles non-violent crime including financial crime, white-collar crime and illegal drug usage. Covers juvenile and adult cases.
  * Violent Crime 
    * Handles violent crime, including murder, rape, domestic abuse, armed robbery, etc. Covers juvenile and adult cases.
  * Financial 
    * Handles various financial cases, including bankruptcy, contract disputes, etc.
  * Appeals 
    * Hears closed cases where an appeal is made to reconsider the outcome.



Judge Appointment: Judges are appointed by the Executive Branch (See Section 3 for more details), which specifically is Mayors for City and Ward-level judges; Governors for Region-level judges; Heads of State for Nation-level judges; and the Chancellor of ADVENT for Sector, Global, and Supreme-level judges.

Executive Structure:

Authority: The level of authority largely depends on the current position of the executive in question. The main ranks are as follows:

  * Mayor: Oversees a city, answers to the regional governor.
  * Governor: Oversees a region, answers to the Head of State.
  * Head of State: Oversees an ADVENT member nation, answers to the Chancellor of ADVENT,
  * The Chancellor of ADVENT: Oversees the entirety of ADVENT and the military.



Appointment: Each will be chosen via democratic election with all candidates approved by ADVENT Election Oversight (See Section 5.7).

Cabinet Selection: All overseeing members of the Executive Branch are permitted to choose their own cabinet, as long as candidates are screened and approved by their respective Agencies as well as ADVENT Intelligence.

Agencies: The Chancellor of ADVENT has the authority to appoint the heads of the various ADVENT Agencies, pending approval from the ADVENT Congress of Nations, XCOM Intelligence and the respective agencies themselves (See Section 5 for more details).

Military Usage: The Chancellor of ADVENT has command over the entirety of the ADVENT Military, Intelligence and Peacekeepers, though can be overridden in specific circumstances by all three (See Sections 6, 7 and 8 for more details).


	5. Envisioning the Future

 

_ADVENT Command, Switzerland_

The more Saudia looked at the glowing red hologlobe, the more she wondered what the point of it actually was. It wasn’t exactly an effective way of communicating information, but then again, she supposed that looks were important to an international organization. Not that it mattered, as she wouldn’t be using that expensive paperweight for any actual work. It would serve just as well impressing the various people that came through.

She looked at the tablet in her hand detailing her itinerary for the next few days. Literally all of her time was going to be spent familiarizing herself with the inner workings of ADVENT now that everything was in full production. She’d spent time appointing people to various agencies, but hadn’t visited every site yet, which she needed to do regardless since the situation was different now.

It was only a matter of time until the first attack, and all of them were scrambling to predict exactly where to prepare for. Then there was the matter of both the Middle East and Brazil, not to mention bringing more countries into ADVENT. International opinion at the moment seemed to be taking a wait-and-see approach with ADVENT, especially Europe which was vexing, but they would likely come into the fold shortly.

On top of _that_ there was the much smaller issue of ensuring that the world didn’t undergo a financial collapse, but fortunately, she had planned for that ahead of time and had developed some ways to lessen the impact. The Americans were not going to like it, especially the larger companies, but unfortunately for them, she needed them working for ADVENT.

But that was something she’d discuss with Jasmine in more detail. Right now she was waiting for another of her recent hires who was supposed to be arriving…she glanced at the time on her tablet. Any minute now, it seemed. The door behind her swished open and in strode her new Chief Diplomat of ADVENT, Firdaus Hassan.

Hailing from Singapore, he was, by her estimation, exactly what was needed in a diplomat of any kind. Willing to negotiate and highly persuasive, but at the same time uncompromising in fulfilling his duties. Ultimatums were sometimes needed, and they had to be delivered with conviction, which was a quality Diplomat Hassan had expressed.

“Chancellor,” he greeted cordially, a clear, but not distracting accent coloring his voice. To her mild surprise, he placed his right fist over his heart, emulating the XCOM salute she’d witnessed. Interesting how that was catching on. She supposed it might as well be standardized soon since most assumed it was the proper way to begin with.

“Diplomat Hassan,” she greeted, inclining her head. “A pleasure to meet you again.”

He smiled and placed a small stack of files on a nearby table. “You as well, Chancellor. We have quite a lot to cover here.”

“That we do,” she agreed, walking over beside him. “And now that ADVENT is official, what is the reaction?”

“As of right now, mostly positive and at worst, neutral,” he answered, pulling out a neatly annotated map. “Public opinion is high, but that is not surprising. That being said, most of the European countries are still holding out, largely at the insistence of the EU, whose leadership is extremely wary of us.”

“Unsurprising,” Saudia commented. “So bypass them.”

“Unfortunately it isn’t as simple as that,” Hassan cautioned. “The largest European countries are tied tightly to the EU, and leaving it is no easy matter.”

“They can leave,” Saudia pointed out. “Germany is proof of that.”

“Ah, technically, Germany _is_ still part of the EU,” Hassan corrected. “There are very specific articles that allow the withdrawal from the EU, which Germany has not triggered, but for all intents and purposes, they are not a part of it, and the only reason the EU hasn’t economically sanctioned them is because they’re worried about German retaliation, and since they have access to alien technology, they don’t want to risk a Brazilian situation.”

Saudia frowned. “Understandable, but they can still leave, yes?”

“Yes, but the process takes years, even if they wanted to,” Hassan said, stepping back. “And both of us know there is no time for that. However, I don’t think we need to worry about that, provided that we appeal to their natures.”

“And I suspect you know what those are,” Saudia guessed, though she could make some assumptions of her own.

“Self-preservation is all well and good,” Hassan said. “But the fact is that at the moment, most of Europe _is_ insulated from the greater alien threat.”

Saudia sniffed. “They’ll feel differently when the attacks hit.”

“I agree,” Hassan nodded. “But in the meantime, we need to show that ADVENT is superior economically and stronger than anything the EU can provide. And beyond the technology, military power and protection we can offer, you are looking into a new backed currency for ADVENT, correct?”

“Yes,” Saudia said.

“That will likely be just enough to convince them,” Hassan said with a smile. “All that remains is for them to simply ignore the EU. Once enough countries take part, they will collapse and the rest of Europe can be assimilated. Once the larger countries like the UK, France and Italy join, the smaller ones will quickly follow suit out of fear. Those will not be difficult to convince.”

“That covers Europe,” Saudia said, nodding. “But it doesn’t sound like those will be the source of any problems.”

“Unlikely,” Hassan agreed. “As you have probably guessed, cooperation with China is unlikely to happen. Let me just say that they are not exactly happy that we’re encroaching on their territory. Now that Taiwan and all of ASEAN is protected by ADVENT, they consider themselves “boxed in.””

“Correct,” Saudia said. “But China isn’t stupid. They know they can’t win on their own.”

Hassan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve had dealings with the Chinese government, so here is what I believe their goals are: Yes, they know they can’t win the war on their own. They don’t intend to. They want to _survive_ it independent of ADVENT. And truthfully, should things remain static, they are one of the few nations who could do it.”

Saudia appraised the hologlobe. “They have manpower, alien material and economic clout. I wouldn’t imagine they would survive whole…but I see your point. They may value independence over assimilation.”

“China does not want to answer to any foreign power,” Hassan confirmed. “More to the point, they are more concerned that ADVENT would remove the Chinese government altogether and install the Taiwanese back in power.”

“Considering that Taiwan is technically the true government of China, I would not be opposed to that,” Saudia muttered. “Though that would be a matter for Congress, not me.”

“It’s not just that worry either,” Hassan continued, pointing towards west China. “There are countries that China has taken over that want their independence. Should China become part of ADVENT, there is a high likelihood that territories like Tibet will be granted independence from Chinese control. Thus leading to a crash of Chinese influence in the world, which they have come to enjoy. They are a global superpower and have enjoyed the benefits that brings, so it is understandable they would be loath to give that up under ADVENT.”

“Selfish,” Saudia muttered under her breath. “And a problem. China will be vital when the aliens begin concentrated attacks. We can’t lose that country because of idiotic governments.”

“Then might I suggest we make them more…amenable to our suggestions?” Hassan asked, raising an eyebrow. “China cannot be self-sufficient forever, but if they hold onto the wealth of trade agreements, imports and exports, they will last as long as we do.”

Saudia got an idea of what he was aiming for. “Starve them out,” she said approvingly. “Cease all trade with China until they join ADVENT. Supplement whatever we lose with that of other nations in ADVENT. Gradually, of course. Ceasing trade with China is impossible to happen overnight.”

“Agreed,” Hassan said. “Which is why I would suggest you make preparations for such immediately. I would prefer the Chinese ambassador know we are serious before we give him an initial ultimatum.”

“You expect him to refuse,” Saudia noted.

“Of course he will refuse.” Hassan waved a hand dismissively. “But the longer the war progresses, China will become weaker and weaker. They must be isolated completely first though before they will even contemplate joining us.”

“And in the worst case, we have the Directive itself.” Saudia said.

He frowned. “Yes, I’m aware. But I would be extremely careful. A war with China would be disastrous now.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Saudia said, rubbing her forehead. “Two now are bad enough.”

“Though the outcome in the Middle East will likely end up benefiting us,” Hassan said, motioning to the region. “While the war itself is…regrettable…it removes the issue of the Middle East and the instability within it.”

“I somehow doubt it,” Saudia muttered, narrowing her eyes at the hologlobe. “For some reason, I doubt the populations are going to be receptive to Israeli control.”

“Of course they won’t,” Hassan amended. “But their political threat will be neutralized. And the Peacekeepers will deal with any unrest. Brazil is a larger concern for us, since Marshal Luana is not exactly acting in accordance with the Directive.”

“I’m aware of that,” Saudia said, grimacing in recollection. “The news is being overshadowed right now fortunately, but she is not doing wonders for our public image down there.”

“I will warn you that if she is to continue unrestricted, it will turn South America against us,” Hassan warned, lacing his fingers together as he appraised her. “Unfortunately the good Marshal has a low opinion of diplomats and was not receptive to my suggestions. I’m afraid that the position has gone to her head.”

“I’ll deal with her myself,” Saudia said. “If she continues, she needs to be aware of the consequences. I believe she isn’t aware that breaking the Directive is grounds for immediate arrest by the Peacekeepers.”

“Or, more likely, believes that she is too important to be replaced,” Hassan suggested with a smile. “In the meantime, I will attempt to ensure that she doesn’t start any additional unnecessary wars.”

“Luana will be dealt with,” Saudia promised. “What of North America?”

“A more challenging issue than I first anticipated,” Hassan admitted, looking to the hologlobe. “Mexico is remaining neutral for the moment and will likely continue to do so until we establish ourselves more firmly. They are moderately tied to China, though not exactly friendly with them. Should we begin isolating the Chinese, I believe that will make Mexico more amenable to joining ADVENT, especially if we can provide everything they would lose from the Chinese.”

“I would prefer they join sooner than later,” Saudia said. “They would be useful for agriculture exportation. But we can do for quite a while without them. What other challenges are there?”

“As expected, there has been an extreme amount of legislative backlash to President Treduant more or less unilaterally taking America into ADVENT,” Hassan revealed, sounding slightly amused. “Public opinion is extremely torn at the moment, and amusingly enough, it has had the effect of splitting the bases of both Republicans and Democrats.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “How so?” She’d always found the polarization between both main parties of American politics morbidly fascinating, so was curious how they were being affected.

“The Republicans are split between those who support it for the sole purpose of fighting the aliens, and then you have the odd mix of constitutionalists who believe her actions are ‘un-American’ and ‘traitorous’, and then the conspiracy theorists, anti-globalists and other extremists of the Republicans. An odd alliance if I must say so, but they are united in this.”

He motioned aimlessly with a free hand. “And on the other side, the Democrats are having somewhat of a crisis of faith, with the supporters of a more interconnected society and those also prioritizing the aliens supporting Treduant. And of course the opposition are, amusingly enough, angry at her for the same reason as Republican constitutionalists, seeing her as a ‘traitor’ and of course there is a sizable section that believes ADVENT is equivalent to a fascist government that will abuse its power through force.”

“That is a drastic generalization,” Saudia said, not particularly concerned with that point. “It’s certainly more authoritarian than the former United States government, but I do not see that as a bad thing.”

“Speaking bluntly, Chancellor, what you believe doesn’t matter,” Hassan stated. “Perception is key, and our initial actions are going to either dispel or reaffirm fears. Protestors are already organizing in the United States, and it is likely Congress is going to attempt impeachment.”

Saudia snorted. “The United States government has no power anymore. They cannot remove Treduant even if they wanted to, since their military and agencies are being incorporated into ADVENT. I’m not concerned with their opinion. If they present issues, there are procedures in place to deal with them. That’s what the Peacekeepers were established for. The laws are public, and they have no excuses if they break them.”

Hassan sighed. “Correct, but I’m warning you that full…enforcement…of the laws is not going to be perceived well my certain other countries. Namely Canada at the moment, since they have flatly refused to consider joining because they also see ADVENT as ‘An authoritarian superpower with the means and potential to silence dissent in the media, peaceful protest and selective candidacy for positions of government.’”

“Fear-mongering,” Saudia dismissed with a wave. “If they actually bothered to read the regulations on everything they supposedly have problems with, they would realize that ADVENT only targets media outlets who continuously publish false information, and deal severely with _violent_ protest. And that anyone can apply to run for a government position, but unlike other previous iterations, there are actually standards that will need to be met. Money is no longer a guaranteed means of winning elections. And said candidates would be screened by an independent agency, not the Executive Branch.”

“I don’t disagree,” Hassan said tactfully. “But it is an issue of both trust and uncertainty. _You_ are assuming that everyone in ADVENT will follow the regulations, but the Canadians see the possibility of abuse as too high. Frankly, Chancellor, it is not an entirely unreasonable position, and one you can’t disprove by words alone.”

“Perhaps not,” Saudia nodded. “Perhaps I’ll travel there myself and explain in more detail.”

“I would not suggest that unless it is an emergency,” Hassan advised. “That’s what I’m for. The aliens are a more pressing issue than Canada at the moment, and the situation is unlikely to change. There are better uses of your time than winning the Canadians over, and even if you went, they likely won’t be convinced by you.”

Saudia was silent for a few moments. While he was objectively right, the Canadian proclamation against ADVENT seemed almost like a dare for her to defend it. It was a challenge she didn’t want to ignore, especially since she knew she could refute it easily. But she supposed she might as well get used to the reality that she couldn’t manage or respond to every criticism of her or ADVENT. “I suppose you’re right,” she said, turning back to him. “I believe that covers the diplomatic state of the world, though you also mentioned you had a breakthrough with Prime Minister Sakata?”

He brightened. “Yes, what I hope to be the first major ADVENT diplomatic success. Prime Minister Sakata is certain he can bring Japan into ADVENT, though wants to speak to you first before making it official.”

“Excellent,” Saudia smiled. “I want to do it as soon as possible then.”

“You are taking a trip to Asia within a few days, yes?” Hassan asked. “Should I add a short detour to Japan during that time to your itinerary?”

“Do it,” Saudia confirmed. “Tell him I look forward to it.”

“Certainly,” Hassan promised with an easy smile. “A good start here, I think. I look forward to what else we can do.”

“As do I,” Saudia said, picking up her tablet and adding that to her list of things to do. One down, quite a few more tasks to complete.

***

_Brazil, ADVENT Research Facility_

One of the benefits of transferring EXALT resources into ADVENT was that all that had to be changed in most cases was the logo and bringing in new people. Brazil had served as the center of EXALT research, so Saudia saw no reason why that needed to change now. It was somewhat of a relief to not have to be as careful in selecting potential scientists, since secrecy was no longer a concern.

But still, the number of people who had the qualifications to lead research into the alien technology was limited, even with XCOM furnishing much of their own research to assist. Progress was, as Darian promised, ‘advancing’ but she preferred to see it for herself. The glass doors of the labs slid open soundlessly and she strode in, breathing in the sterile air.

Many new scientists filled the spaces that had once been exclusively held by the Eridan family, but times were changing and people had to be moved around. Though Saudia had ensured that all who were at this particular facility were experts in their field. However, this time she only wanted to speak to two of them who were standing on the end, one familiar, and the other new.

The two men seemed to be having an intense discussion, though paused as they saw her approach and turned to face her. “Chancellor,” Tygan greeted, inclining his head. “A pleasure to see you again, and I must congratulate you on your promotion.”

“The sentiment is shared, Chancellor,” Kim Munju, the new Chief of Alien Research, said. The aged scientist clearly had a mind sharp as ever, despite his graying hair, if the reports Supreme Leader Gwan had sent were true. Outside of XCOM, he was probably the only one with as much comparable experience with raw alien technology. “I have, of course, been working since my appointment, though there are certain issues that need to be solved.”

“Yes,” Tygan said slowly, giving his new colleague a disapproving look. “There are certain…disagreements…I have with Dr. Munju regarding our path forward.”

Saudia nodded. “Explain.”

“It concerns the MELD substance,” Kim explained, picking up a tablet. “Our current supply is limited, and thus that means aspects of research conducted must be prioritized until we either recover more, or XCOM provides us with some of their stockpile.”

“Nevertheless, that would not dismiss the current dilemma,” Tygan interrupted in his borderline robotic voice, raising a hand. “Were this another substance, there would be a clear line of authority. But as MELD relates to genetics as well as…other applications…this needs to be decided by either you or Dr. Eridan.”

“Noted,” Saudia said. “Dr. Tygan, where would you prefer we focus our research?”

“Cheap and simple genetic modification,” Tygan revealed, picking up a tablet and handing it to her. “I have conducted previous research that has shown the ability of the MELD substance beyond simple military applications. With a sufficient investment, I theorize that we could eliminate every disease that has befallen humanity. Cancer, AIDS, Malaria, infertility, any genetic deficiency or virus could be eliminated with just a small application of MELD.”

That…was extremely significant. Saudia had admittedly not expected a focus on the potential civilian aspects of MELD, but it made sense. “How certain are you of this?” She asked, looking over the formulas and images, trying to understand them. It was simply gibberish to her, but she doubted Tygan would give her false information.

“Certain enough to believe it warrants further study,” Tygan reaffirmed, clasping his hands behind his back. “I am, of course, aware of our limited supply. I would not advise it unless I was confident in my theory. As you can imagine, the implications have a global impact, and of course they could be modified for any alien contagions we encounter.”

“An admittedly useful application for our soldiers,” Kim begrudgingly said, though he didn’t seem particularly pleased.

“In addition, I have not forgotten our military,” Tygan continued. “XCOM has clearly had success integrating non-human DNA into their soldiers, and I want to continue work, though in a way that increases the survivability of our soldiers. Thus I propose we open research into the regenerative capabilities of various animals, such as the jellyfish, and apply the rapid healing to our soldiers.”

That was an application that seemed almost too good to be true. “Is that even possible?” Saudia asked, crossing her arms.

“Anything is possible, Chancellor,” Tygan answered. “But the theory of integrating non-human DNA into humans was proven by XCOM. MELD in truth is highly advanced nanotechnology, and these nanites can be programmed to do whatever we wish. Imagine soldiers whose skin mends in seconds from burns or cuts, or bones that revert to a pre-programed state whenever broken. With enough modification, one soldier could be almost impossible to kill.”

Tygan held up a finger. “This can also be applied to our equipment as well. MELD nanites could be programmed to fix broken or disabled parts, and if we truly wanted to invest resources, machines could be built to manufacture equipment or weapons in the field. The possibilities are many, Chancellor.”

Given what XCOM had accomplished, Saudia was sure that it _was_ possible, and she was rather impressed by the line of research Tygan proposed. “Excellent work, Dr. Tygan. I’m curious as to how there can be dissent here? Dr. Munju, would you elaborate?”

“It is not a disagreement about the usefulness, but prioritization,” Kim disputed, inclining his head briefly as she turned her attention on him. “While curing disease and making our soldiers difficult to kill have nice, packaged and _predictable_ results, they do little to solve our ultimate problem. What is our priority, Chancellor? Improving the quality of life for Earth, or stopping the aliens?”

Saudia frowned. “If the aliens aren’t stopped, the quality of life won’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Kim said approvingly. “While Dr. Tygan’s ideas are well suited for times of peace, one, we are at war, and two, they lack _imagination_. They are generic and predictable solutions when the application of MELD is only limited by what we can _dream._ ”

He handed her several pictures of alligators, spiders, beetles and snakes. “If we wish to truly protect our soldiers, we cannot take half-measures and look to the superior qualities of other creatures. Alligator skin to protect soldiers from chryssalids and projectile attacks, adapting the web shooting of spiders and the venom projection of bombardier beetles and cobras to our own soldiers. XCOM has taken the appropriate steps and it seems pointless not to continue their work to its fullest potential.”

“And at that point, what exactly do we have left?” Tygan demanded. “Can one who undergoes such changes even be considered Human any longer?”

“Humanity is not some static state,” Kim dismissed. “Why must we confine ourselves of one form when there are others we can become which are superior? We have the capability to do so, Tygan, why are we less human for enhancing ourselves. We are not the apex species here, but we have the _potential_ to be.”

Saudia was certainly not opposed to integrating foreign DNA into humanity…but even she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the extreme level of conversion Kim was proposing. The Commander would likely see little issue with it, but she didn’t subscribe to that philosophy. At some point the human in question would not be technically a human, but some strange hybrid. Not inferior, but certainly not human, and definitely not _more_.

“In addition to the biological side, there is that to do with cybernetics that has not been fully explored,” Kim continued, handing her some sketches. “The MECs are one of the great achievements of XCOM that we should attempt to emulate. The robotic ones we currently plan on using are…sufficient, but lack a human mind to command. However, if we are to utilize MELD on vehicles and other heavy equipment, I do not think it should be focused on human integration. But for _humans_ , with MELD we can craft a superior human, enhanced with prosthetics stronger and better than their current limbs.”

“And again at what point are we not improving soldiers, but merely creating robotic drones, who are barely different from machines?” Tygan demanded. “Why not just create machines if that is what you believe is superior?”

“Because the human _mind_ is what is the essence of our species,” Kim stated fondly. “It is superior and cannot be simply replaced by a machine. There is a reason we have human operators behind all machines, because _we_ can adapt and plan in ways a machine can’t.”

Kim waved a hand. “To continue beyond the scope of simple biological and cybernetic modifications, there is an aspect that even XCOM doesn’t cover, or at least one I haven’t found.”

“Which is?” Saudia asked.

“Weaponization,” Kim said with an eerie smile. “MELD is composed of nanites, so why not simply program those nanites to hunt and kill?” He held up a finger. “One MELD nanite is invisible to the naked eye, but with the correct programming it alone is enough to burrow into a brain and explode or tear it apart. What defense do the aliens have against that? Imagine battlefields saturated with a cloud of nanites that kills any alien that enters it, or better, _hunts_ them.”

“And I only see potential for our own destruction in that application,” Tygan interrupted, wrinkling his nose. “The application holds merit, but the risks far outweigh the potential gains. We are then one mistake from either killing our soldiers, or worse, our species. And what happens, Dr. Munju, if a non-ADVENT state acquires these weapons or schematics? You have just introduced a weapon of mass destruction that could be nearly impossible to stop.”

Tygan shook his head. “No, Chancellor, I can support weapons that kill the aliens, but I cannot support a nearly unstoppable weapon that could be easily abused, or worse, turned against us. Even as a last resort, I maintain that option should never be used. MELD is a Pandora’s Box and if we do not treat it as such, we risk our own destruction or worse.”

“And if we do not take every advantage, we are guaranteed our destruction!” Kim shot back. “If we have an application that can kill Ethereals, we should _use_ it! Not shrink back in fear of what _might_ happen. The worst case scenario can be applied to _everything_ Dr. Tygan, do not hide behind it as a means to stall progress!”

“And is the possibility of extinction not worth extra consideration?” Tygan demanded, steel creeping into his voice, though he did not raise it. “Would you take that gamble?”

Kim fixed him with a cold stare. “If the future of our species is at stake, absolutely, _doctor_.”

“Enough!” Saudia commanded, raising a hand. Once she had their attention, she lowered it and continued. “You have both done well, and your ideas have merit, _all_ of them. But you are right, Dr. Munju, we must prioritize. At the moment, I agree that we need to focus on keeping our soldiers alive. Dr. Tygan, I want you to begin research into applying regenerative capabilities to our soldiers and equipment.”

She looked towards Kim. “Take your most promising blueprints for cybernetic modification and begin research immediately. Should Tygan’s research prove successful, we can begin looking into other possible integrations. I also agree with Tygan regarding a nanite plague. While certainly useful, I am not confident it is safe enough to develop, and we are nowhere near the point where such a measure should be considered.”

He pursed his lips, but nodded. “Understood, Chancellor. Though I disagree with your and Dr. Tygan, your reasoning I can understand.”

Saudia narrowed her eyes. “And I am going to clarify that you will not open any projects related to weaponization of the MELD. Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded. “Of course, Chancellor. I will perform my tasks as directed.”

“Good,” Saudia stepped back. “Don’t waste any time. I suspect there are only days until the aliens attack and we must be ready to respond as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Chancellor,” Tygan affirmed, inclining his head. “I will begin research immediately.”

“I expect updates,” Saudia said, turning away. “Good luck to both of you and don’t forget we are counting on your results.”

“Trust me, Chancellor,” Kim promised, his eyes never leaving hers. “All of us are aware of the stakes. I assure you that we will not fail as we have no choice.”

***

_Seoul, South Korea_

“[Daddy? Wake up, daddy!]”

Duri Eun-Jung groaned as the sound of his daughter’s voice reached his ears. “[What is it, Mari?]” He muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes. “[Daddy’s sleeping.]”

He heard her giggle at that. “[The soldiers are marching,]” she said excitedly. “[They just passed us.]”

That drew him further from his stupor. They were marching? Why? Adrenaline shot through him instantly as the possibility of an attack reached his mind. _No! No…calm down_. If there’d been an attack there’d be alarms blaring and he’d be getting frantic calls from command. Still…he looked to the clock resting on the nightstand. Just after eight, still pretty early.

Which meant it was probably going to be a busy day.

He rolled his head back on the pillow until he was looking at the blank ceiling. “[You want to go watch them march?]”

He looked down to his eight-year old daughter who returned his gaze with bright eyes, unabashedly excited at the possibility. She’d always been fascinated with anything involving the military and he’d done his best to accommodate her, even if sometimes he was woken up on days he would _really_ prefer to sleep in. “[Yes!]” She said excitedly. “[Can we? Before they finish?]”

He pretended to give it some thought, frowning at her, but she was no fool and knew when he was faking. “[All right,]” he told her. “[Get dressed in ten, ok?]”

“[Yes, sir!]” She said enthusiastically, snapping into a mock salute. The seriousness of her expression was extremely cute and he resisted the urge to chuckle, only waving her off as she quickly dashed off.

The sheets beside him shifted and Sandara opened her eyes blearily at him, careful not to wake their sleeping five-year old daughter who had once again snuck into their bed in the middle of the night. Nabi clearly preferred their bed to her own, and she was still young enough where he felt fine permitting it. Especially these days, the children needed all the comforting they could get.

“[Mari?]” She asked knowingly with a smile gracing her beautiful face.

“[Soldiers are marching and she wants to go watch them,]” he answered, reaching over and brushing a lone strand of black hair out of her eye. “[They’ll be wearing the new armor too, so I’m preparing for a lot of questions.]”

Sandara’s face immediately became concerned as she realized the implications. “[Early for them, isn’t it.]”

It wasn’t a question.

“[Seems so,]” he nodded grimly. “[There’s a good chance-]”

“[Don’t say it,]” she interrupted softly. “[Just…not until we know for sure.]”

“[Alright,]” he promised, leaning over and giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “[Now I better not keep Mari waiting. I gave her ten minutes. Won’t look good if she beats me, would it?]”

Sandara gave a forced chuckle. “[No, it definitely won’t. Go on, I’ll see you later.]”

Careful not to disturb Nabi, he got up from the bed and quickly went into the restroom to make himself somewhat presentable. Throwing water on his face wiped away any last strands of fatigue and he stared at the reflection in the mirror, something he’d fallen into doing recently. The man that faced him was just another black-haired Korean, maybe with skin a shade darker than normal, brown eyes and a short nose. Not anyone unique by any means.

 _Duri Eun-Jung, alien fighter, defender of humanity_. Not once had that been a title he’d ever thought he’d ascribe to himself, yet here he was. Of all the enemies he’d prepared to fight, the North, the Chinese…aliens had never been on that list.

And yet, here they were. It was what he and his soldiers had been training for, but there was a difference between preparing to fight humans, and something alien. But he supposed soon he’d find out just how good they really were.

In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter what he looked like, because the only face that mattered was the black visor of the ADVENT Captains, the uniform of which stared at him though the mirror, propped up in preparation for actual use. While he wasn’t entirely comfortable wearing what had previously been North Korean armor, he had to admit it was better than anything he was used to.

“[Soon,]” he muttered to the armor as he got dressed, and put it out of his mind as he prepared to spend what might be the last outing with his daughter for a while.

Perhaps forever.

***

_Russia, Center of ADVENT Engineering and Development_

This meeting was one Saudia was personally interested in since it was one of the few where she’d felt confident placing a former EXALT member in charge. Feng Mercado was the most brilliant engineer EXALT had, and she could not find another who could really compare, though there had been several who’d come close and she’d given them appropriate positions.

However, she was aware that some of the other engineers were not exactly pleased to be working under someone they hadn’t heard of until several weeks ago.

This current installation had once been EXALT, similar to the Eridan research facility and had similarly been converted for ADVENT usage. Not as nice as the one that had been in China before XCOM had raided it, but it was more than sufficient for the development of experimental equipment and concepts.

The machines were humming and clanking in the background, which she tuned out and headed for two figures who were standing in front of a holographic projection displayed in red light of what she could only assume was a vehicle of some sort, though she suspected it was not to scale. Feng stood proudly in front of it, his hands clasped behind his back and looking as professional as ever in his suit with the ADVENT emblem proudly embroidered on the pocket.

Just by looking at him, most would imagine him to be too young to hold as much experience as he had. A popular stereotype was that Asians didn’t age, which Saudia found amusing, but it was oddly true for Feng. Completing the picture was the ever-neat moustache that somehow worked with his professional image.

In contrast was the woman standing next to him, who wore ADVENT work attire stained with grease, soot and other accumulated grime from the workshops. She could definitely not be called _neat_ , but it was definitely clear she wasn’t concerned about getting her hands dirty, although Saudia did note her hands were clean. Good that she had made an effort not to look like she’d just come from the workshops.

Saudia wouldn’t have really minded either way. The Chief of Fabrication was someone she expected to continuously be testing the equipment Feng designed and helping refine it. Ofelia De Leon had been somewhat of a surprise to find, hailing from Panama, but her resume and listed experience was more than enough for Saudia to enlist her help in ADVENT.

“Chancellor,” Feng greeted smoothly as she approached. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Same,” Ofelia grunted, the Hispanic woman adopting a similar stance to Feng as she walked up.

“At ease,” Saudia said, waving a hand indicating they could relax. “I assume you have updates for me.”

“That we do,” Feng confirmed with a smile. “Though I’ll let dear Ofelia here begin.”

“Stop calling me that,” Ofelia growled, stepping forward to the console controlling the massive holodisplay. She cleared her throat and continued. “We have begun full production on the initial iterations of the armor for our military, as per your directions.”

The holograms depicting the various armor sets appeared. “Already we’ve severely exhausted our supply of alloys, even diluting the content mixed with metals from Earth,” she continued, pointing at the sets. “But it will survive at least one direct blast from plasma weapons, and provides more than sufficient protection from ballistic weapons.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t happy with it?”

“Of course I’m not,” Ofelia stated emotionlessly. “Our armor needs to survive more than one shot. But until we get more alloys, that’s not going to happen so I need to make do with what I’ve got.”

“The good news is that we have enough to outfit most of our military,” Feng interrupted. “Which is a more important point. It can be improved later, Ofelia, so no need to trouble yourself over it further.”

Ofelia ignored him and continued, keeping her gaze fixed on Saudia. “We’ve also been provided the Shieldbearer prototype, though development is being delayed until Dr. Mercado has refined the design. Until then, most of the Russian Shieldbearers will be helping Israel subdue the Middle East.”

“The Russians had an excellent concept,” Feng elaborated on, a smile on his face. “But their iteration is…flawed. The shielding technology is primitive and borderline useless, more a fault of the vision of the Russians than their engineers. It has the potential to be one of our most powerful units, but not as it currently stands.”

Saudia didn’t change her expression. “Elaborate.”

“Of course,” he continued without missing a beat. “The Russians conceptualized the Shieldbearer armor as a means to create some kind of invincible soldier. Understandable, but it has a severe lack of creativity.” Feng waved aimlessly. “Heavily armored units have their place, but it makes little sense to have multiple kinds. The Lancer Division fulfills that role quite easily.”

Feng pressed a button on the console and the suits were repositioned in a square, with the Shieldbearer in the middle. “I see a much more useful role the Shieldbearers can perform,” Feng continued. “The shield could be applied to _other_ units beyond the unit itself.” He pressed another button and a simulated red shockwave emitted from the Shieldbearer and each armor set was overlaid by an additional barrier of red.

“I am still working out how to make it work correctly,” Feng admitted. “But I’m confident I will solve it in weeks. It is certainly possible. Ofelia?”

“Dr. Mercado is correct,” Ofelia confirmed with a nod in his direction. “Initial testing proves the theory is sound. The issue is both the range and power of the shield itself is extremely low.”

“Good enough,” Saudia nodded. “A unit like that could be extremely useful. I assume our weapons are also up to standard?”

“Without a doubt,” Ofelia confirmed, for the first time smiling brightly. “Arms manufacturing is not an issue. Gauss weapons can be developed without alien alloys in all variants.”

“Are there any downsides?” Saudia asked.

“Only in durability,” Ofelia clarified. “We were careful not to compromise power, but the weapons _will_ eventually fall apart with repeated use. But we know exactly how long, and Dr. Mercado has devised a recommendation for the phasing out and renewal for the ADVENT military.”

“No need for such formalities, Ofelia,” Feng interrupted. “We’ve used first names so far, no point in changing for the Chancellor. Moving on, we’ve also looked into applying the laser weapon technology of XCOM.” He sniffed. “It is a highly inefficient implementation if I do say so myself.”

Well, wasn’t he confident. Saudia was amused at that, but kept her expression neutral. “How so?”

He pressed a button on the console and a holographic replica of a laser weapon appeared. “The problem with laser weapons is the incredible amount of energy they consume,” Feng continued. “In all other aspects, lasers are superior to gauss weapons against unarmored targets and only require an instant to kill. XCOM…” wrinkled his nose. “They like to use their laser weapons as equivalents to crude cutting tools. Wasting previous energy in the hopes they slice an alien in two.”

He shook his head. “The energy output makes it inefficient to put in human hands, else soldiers would run out of power in minutes. I am unsure how XCOM overcomes this issue, but it is irrelevant as I have devised a far more effective solution.”

He nodded to Ofelia who pressed another button on the console and the image of a bipedal mechanical unit appeared. Ah, right. The result of the American Mechanized Defense Unit Project. A ten-foot metal robot in white plating that clasped a massive machine gun all controlled by an angled and clearly robotic head. A rocket launcher was also attached to its back for good measure.

“Like the Russians, the Americans had the right concept,” Feng said, motioning proudly to the MECs. “And unlike the Russians, their vision was appropriate for what they wanted. I have simply updated the model to incorporate laser weaponry. Unlike humans, machines are precise and do not waste without purpose. I can think of no better application of it than to the machine itself.”

“Testing overwhelmingly supports this,” Ofelia added. “The MDU was tested and has eliminated up to six targets within two seconds by only using a fraction of the energy and with response times far beyond what a human can accomplish.”

“Ah, but wait, there’s more,” Feng smiled and the image of an armored turret appeared. “I simply adapted the technology for a turret design of mine. I believe we could easily install them on our bases, and since they incorporate laser technology, would eliminate most threats instantly. Lasers are near-instantaneous after all, and it only takes a millisecond for one beam to pierce an opening.”

And this was why she’d put him in charge. Not even XCOM had thought to employ the technology they had at their disposal in this way. “Excellent work,” she complimented. “Both of you. How soon will production begin?”

“Up to you, Chancellor,” Ofelia said with a shrug. “Both basic models can be built without using alien alloys, though they will be substantially weaker, but incorporating laser weaponry will consume a portion of our stockpiles.”

“I want at least a several dozen fully upgraded MDUs,” Saudia said. “We need some to combat the aliens. But I also want those turrets at every major military installation, especially Japan and Korea, do not worry about fully armoring them. Is that feasible?”

“Certainly,” Feng said. “Earth metals are not difficult to come by, and the hit to our stockpiles for the laser upgrade will be negligible if they win us wars. Also,” he raised a finger, and several more variants appeared. “I’ve also taken the liberty of designing several additional types to fulfill other roles. One specializes in long-range combat,” he motioned towards a MDU with the rocket launcher extending several feet above it, and holding what appeared to be some kind of large sniper rifle. “And another utilizes that rocket launcher more frequently.” She looked to the unit in question which had a much larger rocket launcher attached to its back, and smaller ones built into the arms as well. It didn’t carry a weapon.

“Again, excellent job,” Saudia said approvingly. “Is there anything else?”

“That there is,” Feng said, scratching his chin. “For the immediate future, we will make do with the vehicles and aircraft currently, though I have made improvements incorporating Gaussian and laser technology, but there are no new models. But I am aware that more will be needed, and one such prototype I’ve developed is the ADVENT Troop Transport.”

The hologram changed to the vehicle she’d seen walking in. It appeared to be a smaller adaption of a helicopter body, but instead of any blades or landing gear, there were four pillar-like appendages attached to the sides, two in the front, two in the back. “As it stands now, current technology is ill-fitted for quick and safe deployment,” Feng continued, motioning to the vehicle. “This prototype would allow rapid inserting into hot zones within fifteen seconds or less and would be able to withstand barrages from enemy fire. I’m looking to incorporate aspects of the Shieldbearer technology into it as well, perhaps when soldiers deploy.”

He shook his head. “Plans for the future. But the Troop Transport would be one of the fastest aircraft, comparable to an XCOM skyranger in allowing rapid reinforcement from distant garrisons. And it will not be run using traditional fossil fuels, but instead a renewable source that I expect will become more common.”

“Elerium?” Saudia guessed, since the number of fuels that fit that was very small. She wasn’t sure that the strange alien substance _was_ a fuel, but it had powered quite a few alien weapons and equipment, so it must emit some kind of energy.

“Correct,” Feng said with a nod. “Unfortunately, we are still in the process of learning how best to utilize it. XCOM’s research is…limited, and it will take some time to understand it. But when we solve the mystery, I will have the Troop Transport ready to deploy.”

“Keep me appraised,” Saudia ordered. “But again, both of you have done exceptionally well. Keep up the good work and if you need additional help, be sure to request it.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Feng reassured her with a smile. “We will not hesitate, but if I may make a suggestion, please ensure we win the initial battles. Until we have a way to recreate or synthesize the alien alloys, our output will unfortunately be limited.”

Saudia gave him a humorless smile. “Rest assured, Dr. Mercado, I have no intention of losing this war.”   

***

_Japan, Tokyo_

The Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building was one of the most interesting buildings Saudia had seen. There was something different about its architecture that made it stand out from the buildings around it, beyond that it was where the local government of Tokyo met and deliberated. It also made for an excellent spot to meet between two world leaders.

Prime Minister Sakata had certainly not spared his Security Police, since she’d been under the eyes of at least six officers she had seen at all times, and four were escorting her now. It made sense, though it was slightly annoying being barely able to move without bumping into one of them.

But better that than being assassinated.

The elevator dinged and it slid open. One of the officers motioned for her to exit and she followed his lead into the hallway. She was unfamiliar with the architecture, but trusted the officers would let her know when she was in front of the right door. Sure enough, one of the officers stopped her in front of a nondescript room. “This way, Chancellor,” he said, and unlocked the door with a key.

“Prime Minister Sakata is inside,” the officer said, stepping back. “We will remain here.”

She nodded and opened the door to step into what seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary conference room with a large oak table with chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the vast expanse of Tokyo. Prime Minister Reizo Sakata of Japan stood facing the window, and immediately turned to her as the door opened. Sakata was not an old man, but he looked aged now compared to the pictures Saudia had seen, which was hardly a surprise considering the burden he must be facing.

“Chancellor, welcome,” Sakata greeted warmly, extending a hand which she took. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

“Of course,” Saudia said. “Considering the position your nation is currently in, it seems only right to alleviate any concerns you have.”

“How altruistic,” Sakata commented dryly. “But it is appreciated nonetheless. I understand your time is likely limited, so I will get to the point. I have addressed the Diet and we believe joining ADVENT is in our interests.”

What she’d expected. “On behalf of ADVENT, I would be privileged to accept,” she said.

“And what would be the immediate effect?” Sakata asked slowly. “We are aware of the changes to our government that would be need to be made, but those will take time.”

Saudia clasped her hands behind her back. “The immediate effect would be the insertion of soldiers into Japan. I am certain you have guessed it, but we also believe the aliens will likely strike Japan next and we need to prepare. Much of civilian population would need to either enlist or evacuate.”

“A conclusion we have come to as well,” Sakata confirmed grimly. “There are bunkers that exist from World War II we could utilize, but those are insufficient to house the thousands of civilians that occupy just Tokyo. But it is good that your priorities are in the right place.”

“We have little time to waste,” Saudia told him. “I will be meeting with our Military commanders and the respective heads of North and South Korea as well as America so we can prepare. Now that Japan is with us, we will expect you there to help coordinate the defense.”

“A task I am willing to undertake,” Sakata promised, nodding. “The evacuation will take time, though. Several weeks at least.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “We don’t have that kind of time. If there is no other way, evacuate the coasts first since those will likely first fall under alien attack. Realize that we’re expecting an attack within days, not even a week. Fail to act in time and thousands will die.”

A single nod was her response. “With ADVENT’s help, we might be able to do it.”

“See to any other arrangements you need to make,” Saudia advised. “I have one stop to make in America and then will be coordinating with our Military until an attack happens somewhere.”

“I will inform the Emperor of our decision,” Sakata said. “An address by him will grab the attention of the public and perhaps lower panic.”

“Whatever you feel is appropriate,” Saudia said. “And-“

“One more thing,” Sakata interrupted, raising a hand. “I will also be announcing our decision immediately after this. Since you are here, I would like you to join me as a public statement of unity. It will certainly solidify our agreement internationally and the public deserves to see the woman leading the world.”

Saudia shrugged, not bothered by the idea either way. “If you insist, though I have no speech planned.”

“A pity,” he mused. “I was quite impressed with your address in Geneva, but in this case it isn’t needed. Just a few minutes afterwards posing for cameras, then you can be on your way.”

“Let’s do it,” Saudia said, inclining the head. “Our timetable isn’t getting any shorter. Japan is on borrowed time and I would prefer not to waste it.”

“I agree,” Sakata said with a smile, moving past her. “Then let’s go.”

***

_New York, United States of America_

The city was still recovering from both the alien attack, and the bombing of the UN Headquarters, but much of it still remained, and Saudia had wished she had made a trip to visit it at least once during her tenure as Director of EXALT. But the city was still impressive to her, even if it was clearly less busy than was typical.

There was also a franticness to the people walking around; there was no slow walking and enjoying the sights. Saudia had noted that it was not uncommon for people to glance up at the sky every once in a while, as if waiting for another UFO to come and begin bombing them. In general people seemed only interested in getting from one place to another, otherwise feeling exposed outside.

She could definitely understand that feeling, though was confident that nothing would happen today. Saudia intended her visit to be low-key here, given the current state of America, so was just wearing regular civilian attire which she knew looked odd when she entered one of the skyscrapers and was soon surrounded by well-dressed professionals.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow when she told her the appointment she had, but just shrugged when it appeared in the system. She gave her a keycard and Saudia set off for the the twelfth floor, taking only took a few minutes to arrive. As expected, Jasmine Vailan, her Head of Economic Analysis was waiting right on time.

Jasmine had actually been someone Saudia was aware of long before the aliens had come. She was a relatively obscure economist compared to those working in the States, since she spent most of her time working with the governments of many third world countries to help establish, fix or stabilize various economies, to usual success. It was a cause Saudia found admirable, and her successes made her the right pick to apply her expertise on a much larger scale.

“Saudia!” She greeted jovially once she came in. Jasmine was surprisingly informal compared to most of her staff, though given her own attire, Saudia didn’t particularly mind. “You came fast.”

“Right from Japan,” Saudia answered, sitting down into a chair, though was careful not to let exhaustion overtake her. Last major stop, then she’d have something of a respite.

“I saw,” Jasmine said, settling in a seat at the end of the table. “Nice job by the way. Having Japan in ADVENT is _extremely_ reassuring for the Stock Market.”

“Good,” Saudia said, straightening up and looking the young American in the eyes. “You’ve had time to observe the fallout, so what’s your analysis?”

Jasmin bit her lower lips before she began. “It’s a good thing you warned me there’d be some …instability. Even with that, it was difficult to convince the WTO, Wall Street and the Federal Reserve to not completely flip out. You have any idea just how _close_ we came to a worldwide crash when the UN essentially ceased to exist?”

“Closer than is ideal?” Saudia guessed wryly.

Jasmine sighed and pinched her forehead. “You have a gift for _understatement,_ Saudia. But we need to act now before we _do_ enter a worldwide depression in the middle of an alien invasion. They want results, and the decimation of the Australian market hasn’t exactly helped.”

“They should like that ADVENT nations don’t have any special tax on import and export between member nations,” Saudia said. “And they can still retain their trading agreements to non-ADVENT states.”

“With a bunch of paperwork,” Jasmine amended. “Which none of them like, but the non-taxed agreements in ADVENT were actually something that calmed them down a bit.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I now suspect that I’m not going to like what you’re going to say next.”

“You probably won’t,” Saudia said, giving a small smile. “ADVENT is not going to perform any business or trade with China.”

Jasmine gave a single nod. “Noted, any other mildly important points? Like how you’re going to single handedly build a wall around Australia to keep the aliens in?”

“Spare me,” Saudia sighed. “And I’m well aware of the implication-“

“Actually, no, I don’t think so,” Jasmine interrupted bluntly. “You know how many people do business in China?”

“Of course I do,” Saudia defended. “And I also know that whatever China provides, someone else can provide more and better quality.”

“Quality isn’t the point,” Jasmine stated. “It’s _cost_. China is _cheap_ and that’s appealing. Best case scenario here is that you have the price of _everything_ rise by several dollars, and we both know that isn’t going to help.”

“I agree, prices rising is not something we need now,” Saudia nodded. “The population needs to remain calm. But there are solutions to prevent a sudden price hike while the companies find new trade agreements.”

“I was afraid of that,” Jasmine sighed.

“Isn’t it possible?”

“Yes…” Jasmine said slowly. “But I’m just imagining the response I’m going to get when I give them the news.”

“States of emergency,” Saudia said. “The needs of ADVENT come before that of corporations. The major distributors will still retain control over their companies, they will just be subject to ADVENT control. It’s not as though they’re exactly poor.”

“I’m imagining the commercials,” Jasmine groaned. “ _Walmart, Save Money, Live better, now a Division of ADVENT. Working for the common people_ , or some other crap like that. And I assume you’re still wanting to take over the weapon manufactures?”

“Of course,” Saudia said. “And defense companies that was working for the United States and any weapons manufacturer of import will be working directly for ADVENT. We have a war to win and they will contribute.”

“Oh, boy,” Jasmine said, leaning back in her chair. “Solaris is going to be thrilled. When he expressed interest in _helping_ ADVENT, I don’t think he had being completely taken over.”

Saudia resisted the urge not to smile. “I think he’ll come around. And don’t exaggerate, it’s not like I’m mandating that everyone be fired and replaced.”

“No, you just want ADVENT to have the final authority on every major decision,” Jasmine mocked. “Much better.”

“Enough with the sarcasm,” Saudia said, lacing her fingers together. “Now, is that possible, and what might be the impact?”

“Let me think,” Jasmine looked up for a couple minutes. “Alright, before we make _any_ of this public, we have to both set up alternate trade agreements, establish state takeovers of corporations and keep everyone important informed. _Then_ once that’s in place, we say, ‘hey, we’re not trading with you anymore China, fuck off’ sit back and watch the fireworks.”

She grew a little more serious. “Joking aside, if… _if_ this goes off without major issues, we’re still going to have several _really_ bad days in the stock market, though thanks to our price freezing, it won’t be felt by the public for some time. But since everything was decided ahead of time, there should not be _that_ much instability, certainly not enough to bring financial ruin to corporations of import.”

She frowned. “Although, there are going to be a lot of small businesses that are going to go under because they heavily rely on imports from China. I suppose if we want to alleviate that, we could set up some sort of state-sponsored program to help out. I’d have to think on that, though.”

“If it will help, do it,” Saudia nodded. “And what of international economics?”

“They will likely fall into two categories,” Jasmine said slowly. “Either they follow suit, since because of this, China is going to lose a _lot_ of economic clout and will be seen as a trading partner with diminishing returns, or China will do everything in their power to not lose the partners they have. Mexico and many South American countries will be targeted by this. Long term, this will severely cripple China…especially as ADVENT grows.”

“Good,” Saudia stated with satisfaction. “Exactly as I want.”

“You’re the Chancellor,” Jasmine said, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. “I know China isn’t exactly playing ball, but this is, if I may say so, a bit extreme. Essentially isolating them will make the citizens suffer, you know that right? They’ll be hit with this the hardest.”

“I have little choice,” Saudia stated coldly. “If China wants to fight this war alone, they will fight it _alone_ and I will not support such selfishness from anyone, not even a previous superpower.”

“Have you considered that China might respond militarily?” Jasmine suggested slowly. “This is all but declaring war on them without explicitly stating it.”

“No.” Saudia declared, steel in her voice. “China knows that would be signing its death warrant, and if they were foolish enough to attack _ADVENT_ , then I am almost certain XCOM would become involved. The War in the Middle East and South America is bad enough, but China starting one would not be something they would ignore.”

“Fair point,” Jasmine acknowledged. “Boy do I have a lot of work to do. And we need to discuss your future plans. You still like the idea I proposed?”

“A new currency backed by alien metals and tech?” Saudia recalled. “Yes. Extremely clever, I must say. Exact values still need to be determined, but the idea is solid and would allow us to dictate the market.”

“ _Influence_ ,” Jasmine corrected quickly. _“_ We can’t dictate the market, unless you want us to become communists. But control over the currency will definitely allow us to predict it, and an actual backed currency will definitely reassure Wall Street. Although they will probably kinda hate you later when we finalize the regulation aspects of banking and Wall Street.”

“A topic for another day,” Saudia said, standing up. “Good work, Jasmine.”

“That’s my job,” she affirmed. “And you’ve given me plenty to do. Keep things calm and I can do the same on my end.”

“I’ll do my best,” Saudia promised. “Trust me, stability is a goal everyone wants to achieve.”

***

_Seoul, South Korea_

“[What do you think the Major wants?]” Min asked while they walked through the Headquarters. He had on his new black ADVENT armor though like Duri, held the helmet under his arm. Truthfully the armor itself was extremely high-quality, but Duri had never really liked helmets, and would get used to it later. First he needed to know what Major Hye needed to speak to him.

“[We’re likely being deployed,]” was all he said as they rounded a corner. “[They don’t normally schedule large patrols early in the morning unless they’re worried about potential reprisal.]”

“[Aliens,]” Min said.

“[Aliens,]” Duri repeated with a nod. “[Not surprised. It was only a matter of time before they moved past Australia.]”

“[Nervous?]”

Duri snorted. “[What do you think? I just hope the fighting is far away from Seoul.]”

“[I doubt we’ll be attacked first,]” Min reassured him. “[The aliens have bigger fish. They’ve got China and Japan as much larger and appetizing targets.]”

“[Good point,]” Duri grunted. “[Alright, wait here. I don’t think this will take long.]” Min nodded and Duri stepped into the Spartan office of Major Hye. Said Major was sitting at his desk, and motioned for him to take a seat. Duri complied and noted that the gaunt face of Hye seemed even more drained than usual. He was old even by regular standards and Duri was continually surprised and impressed that the Major had yet to retire.

But he liked him, so he wasn’t eager for someone else to take his place. “[Sir, you wanted to see me?]”

“[Yes,]” Hye answered curtly. “[I’m sure you’re aware that some major restructuring is taking place to comply with ADVENT military standards.]”

“[To an extent,]” Duri admitted. “[I’ve not received much information either way.]”

Major Hye grunted. “[Not surprise, the kinks are still being worked out, but the short version is that you’re going to get a different unit very soon. A multi-national unit to be specific.]”

Duri frowned. That was…not what he was expecting. “[Why? I thought ADVENT was going to simply be restructuring the ranking, not completely changing military compositions.]”

“[So did I,]” Hye said with a shrug. “[But I suppose they want to do both. They really are intent on a fully international army, and have plans to phase it in. The ROK military proper won’t be affected directly for several months, but you will be since you’re being sent to Japan.]”

That was more expected. “[Why Japan?]”

“[Intel suggests that’s where the aliens are going to strike next,]” Hye said. “[ADVENT is rushing to get a reasonable defense prepared, and since you have experience with leading international units, I recommended you receive your own. Japan is going to be the first big test for ADVENT, and we need the best.]”

“[I appreciate that, sir,]” Duri said, pleased by the words. “[Although my experience is mostly limited to Americans.]”

“[And your unit is one of the best,]” Hye repeated. “[Stop complaining and accept it. I am going to warn you that your new squad is going to be slightly more diverse. Min will be going with you, but you’ll also be getting people from Sweden, Venezuela, America…and North Korea.]”

Duri grimaced. “[Was that really necessary?]”

“[The puppets are going to someone,]” Hye shrugged. “[I hate it too, but at least you know to watch them. XCOM might like Gwan, but I have no illusions as to his goals.]”

“[Are Sweden and Venezuela even part of ADVENT?]” Duri asked. “[Those seem…odd countries to be sending soldiers.]”

“[Sweden’s in talks at least,]” Hye said, clasping his hands together. “[Maybe they’re loaning a soldier or two. Venezuela was allied with XCOM, so I suppose they switched over to ADVENT when it was established. Doesn’t matter, you’ll need to work with all of them well. Can you do it?]”

Duri nodded. “[Yes, sir.]”

“[I believe it,]” Hye agreed, inclining his head. “[Get ready, you’ll be shipping out to Japan this evening. Eighteen hundred sharp, say your goodbyes and get what you need. We’re not relocating your family with you for obvious reasons.]”

Duri sighed. “[Understood, sir. I’ll prepare immediately.]”

“[Good luck,]” Hye told him. “[It was a pleasure to serve as your commanding officer.]”

Duri smiled. “[The feeling is mutual, sir. Don’t worry, I don’t intend to die over there.]”

“[I believe it,]” Hye said, a mischievous smile on his lips. “[Wipe those aliens out.]”

“[With pleasure, sir.]”

***

_Seoul, South Korea_

There was a distinctly different feeling being in the military-controlled sections of ADVENT member nations. Seeing the armored soldiers around her marching in squads, with officers saluting as she passed reminded her of the time she’d spent in Venator territory during her time of EXALT. There was a distinct organization and predictability that made her feel much more at ease than when dealing with diplomatic matters.

Probably because most military members _were_ straightforward and predictable, which made dealing with them easy by comparison. They didn’t particularly enjoy politics and she could respect that here. At this time, no one could.

“Take a break,” she told her guard as she spotted the woman she needed to see. “I know where to go from here.”

They complied and she walked over to the woman who noticed her and dismissed the soldier she was talking to and turned to face the approaching Chancellor. She wore a similar dress uniform to Saudia’s, minus the red sash. When Saudia had chosen who would be in charge of the ADVENT military, there were a wide range of options, but one of the largest challenges would be managing the vast array of member nations and their respective militaries, a criteria that very few could fill.

Fortunately, one such candidate with those qualification was the Former Chairman of the NATO Military Committee, Laura Christiaens who had been the General of Belgian Land Component. While she was too old to physically fight on the front lines, her administrative and tactical mind was as sharp as ever.

“Chancellor,” she greeted, saluting. “Welcome to Seoul, and I’m glad you arrived safely.”

Saudia returned the salute and the two women began walking down the hallway. “No reason to be concerned about my safety,” she commented. “People have a vested interest in keeping me alive.”

“As they should,” Laura nodded. “While I hope the rest of your trip was productive, we need to get down to business here.”

“Are the rest of the command here?” Saudia asked, admittedly expecting the answer.

“All have arrived today, per your request,” Laura confirmed with a sharp nod. “In addition to Presidents Chia and Prime Minister Sakata have arrived, as well as Supreme Leader Gwan.”

To her credit Laura’s expression remained neutral even though Saudia knew she didn’t exactly approve of Iseul. Too bad, he was going to be needed here since if Japan was attacked and they couldn’t defend it, the Korean peninsula would likely be the next target. “And did XCOM send one of their own?”

“Yes, a soldier,” Laura confirmed. “Carmelita Alba. Former South Korean special forces.”

“Interesting that the Commander would send a soldier,” Saudia muttered. “Why not one of his own council?”

“I didn’t ask,” Laura said as the reached the door. “But all we need to know from XCOM is what role they will play in a defense and so they are not surprised by our own tactics. I do not have major concerns about XCOM. If Van Doorn trusted them enough to join, I will respect that.”

Saudia looked down at the aged women. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

Laura gave a sad smile. “Oh yes, I worked with him quite often. An exceptional man and soldier. His death was a blow, even if he was no longer part of NATO.”

“My condolences,” Saudia said, inclining her head.

“Appreciated,” Laura said, waving a hand. “But he’d prefer we focus on defeating the aliens.” They stepped into the room where the rest of the heads of the ADVENT Military had gathered, all converging around a newly-installed holotable depicting Japan and surrounding regions.

“At attention!” Laura snapped as they walked in and all the military figures snapped to attention, and the various heads of state gave her their undivided attention. Saudia stopped at the center of the holotable, flanked by Laura and Prime Minister Sakata.

President Chia and Carmelita were on the left side, with the latter apparently having decided to come in full armor, a dangerous looking shotgun attached to the back of her armor. Opposing them was Supreme Leader Gwan and Elizabeth Falka, of ADVENT Intelligence. Opposite Saudia herself were the Chief of Peacekeeping Operations, Amalda Stein, formerly of the German Feldjäger, and the Chief of Lancer Operation Helion Weekes, the Former Commander of the USSOCOM.

“We’re all aware of the situation,” Saudia began without ceremony, nodding to Elizabeth. “What are we doing to prepare?”

“Intelligence from Australia seems to indicate that the aliens are preparing for some kind of strike,” Elizabeth began. “Large transport UFOs have been spotted arriving and leaving, although they could also be attempting to secure the continent itself.”

“Much of the surviving ADF forces are evacuated,” Laura followed up. “They are being integrated into the ADVENT military now.”

“What is the timeframe for an attack?” President Sakata asked.

“Technically it could be hours,” Elizabeth warned. “Realistically it seems they’re wanting to do this as carefully as possible, but I would not expect longer than one week before their first move.”

“There is a matter we have to settle,” Iseul said, looking down on the map. “We are assuming that Japan is the next target. What if we are wrong and caught blindsided?”

“Because we look at their current actions,” Laura said, adjusting the map closer to Australia. “They are already moving on the Philippines and New Zealand, and more than likely that at least makes Japan a similar primary target. And if they want to attack Asia, there are little better staging areas than Japan.”

“Fair point,” Iseul conceded, frowning. “But I am concerned that we are acting too predictably here. The aliens cannot have missed our actions.”

“Remember that the aliens will focus on primary targets,” Carmelita interrupted, and Saudia was fairly sure she’d never heard the woman speak before, since she would have likely remembered the melodic voice. “They focus on direct threats to them. That means we can reasonably eliminate South America and Africa from possible attack.”

“Which leaves the West Coast of America and Asia,” Helion finished, nodding at Carmelita. “And attacking Asia logically involves the capture of Japan. In which case I am concerned we are ignoring a possible attack on the United States.”

“The United States is not forgotten,” Saudia assured him. “But if the United States is attacked, we can respond. If we lose Japan, we will not retake it without a concentrated effort.”

“Conceded,” Helion said. “In which case, how is the evacuation progressing, Stein?”

“As fast as the Peacekeepers can work,” Amalda answered, her accent slightly more pronounced than the others. “It isn’t a fast process, evacuating an entire country. The coasts are almost finished and we are working inland. Worst case scenario, they can be hidden in the bunkers until the fighting ends.”

“Has there been resistance?” Saudia asked.

“No, the population is well aware of the danger,” Amalda said. “Some aren’t particularly happy about leaving their homes, but when informed about the immediate danger, most prefer being alive to certain death. The few that actually posed issues are safely detained.”

“There was also a surge of volunteers wanting to help with the defense,” Sakata said. “I spoke with Commander Laura about my concerns with putting civilians on the front, regardless of their willingness. Her solution was an excellent one.”

“A logical one,” Laura downplayed. “Since the majority of refugees are being redirected to South Korea, I propose that any civilians wishing training be given it here. After several months, if needed, they would be an excellent reserve force that can be close enough to assist or defend as the case may be.”

“We’ll of course begin initiatives to accomplish this,” Chia promised. “We’re experiencing the same from South Korean citizens as well. We will have no shortage of willing defenders.”

“Returning to Japan itself,” Laura continued. “I’ve deployed multiple divisions of soldiers along the coast. Entrenchment and fortification is beginning in earnest, and there are two carrier strike groups standing by for the initial attack. It is unlikely the attack will come from the sea, so Gaussian anti-aircraft emplacements and equipment have been placed across the entire island.”

“Will that be enough?” Sakata asked, looking at Laura. “Our forces are vulnerable to air attacks, and their aircraft are better than ours.”

“Which is why we’re heavily utilizing the THAAD missile defense system,” Laura reassured. “At the very least our forces should be relatively safe from missile attacks, even alien ones. Aircraft will be dealt with by the deployment of S-400 missiles and the respective SAM.”

“I think our biggest concern is the numbers game,” Helion stated grimly. “Like it or not we have inferior numbers and they could drive us back by that alone.”

“Kill enough and they’ll pull back,” Carmelita advised. “If a strategy isn’t working, they won’t keep doing it. We have the advantage of the land, and if we can hold them to the coasts, they’ll eventually retreat and try again later.”

“And what is XCOM’s role in this?” Saudia asked Carmelita. “Does the Commander have a plan?”

“We’ll go where the fighting is worst,” Carmelita said firmly. “That or areas that are at risk of falling. Or in the event that an Ethereal arrives. If that happens, I advise that all forces nearby immediately retreat. You cannot kill an Ethereal alone.”

Laura looked at her skeptically. “One alien is not sufficient to order a retreat, even a powerful one.”

“You’ve never fought one, I see,” Carmelita shot back. “Unless you want to throw away soldiers, you’ll let us handle them. And you better pray one doesn’t show up or it will be impossible to hold the coasts.”

“I think that’s what we’re all hoping,” Saudia interrupted, raising a hand to defuse the sudden tension. “If any Ethereals are spotted, XCOM will be notified.”

“If the overall strategy is laid out, I suggest we get into specifics,” Laura continued, looking down at the map. “If you want, Chancellor?”

“Agreed,” Saudia nodded. “Continue, Commander.”

***

_Seoul, South Korea_

Twilight was the backdrop for their goodbyes, and Duri couldn’t really think of a more appropriate one. Sandara had been distressed at the news, but both of them knew there wasn’t anything they could do about it and she had been resolved to appear fine for the girls. Nabi wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, except that daddy was going away for a while.

Mari knew better though, and she’d been really quiet after he’d told her, and he wasn’t sure how she was handling it. Now that they were all standing on the tarmac with the plane behind them, all of them looked like they wanted to cry, himself included.

But orders were orders.

He knelt down by Mari and gently rested his hands on her shoulders, looking into her watering eyes. “[Hey, don’t cry. I’m going to be coming back soon.]”

A few tears ran down her cheeks. “[But what if-]”

“[Hey, none of that,]” he soothed pulling her into an embrace. “[Nothing is going to happen to me, got it?]”

He felt her nod against him and he gently withdrew. “[You need to be strong for mommy, can you do that?]”

One jerky nod. “[Yes, sir.]”

He smiled and ruffled her hair. “[That’s right, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.]”

He stood and walked over to his wife and youngest daughter who was clutching Sandara’s leg. “[Nabi, you be a good girl when I’m gone,]” he said, making his tone much lighter than he was feeling. “[I don’t want to hear mommy telling me you snuck into the kitchen and ate my cookies.]”

To his relief she giggled. “[No one likes your cookies, daddy.]”

He chuckled. “[Then I shouldn’t hear anything, should I?]”

She shook her head. “[Nope!]”

“[Good girl,]” he congratulated. “[I’ll be back soon.]”

“[Can we go to the park when you get back?]” She asked. “[We haven’t been there in a while.]”

“[Yes we can,]” he promised. “[Count on it.]”

He stood and immediately drew his wife into an embrace, staying that way for a few minutes, not needing to say anything. “[Don’t worry too much,]” he told her quietly. “[There’s nothing you can do to stop it. I knew what I was signing up for.]”

“[I know, I know,]” she said, just as softly. “[But I can’t help it. Just…try to come back, please.]”

He looked down at her worried face and gave her a reassuring smile. “[I don’t plan to die here. But there are some things in life out of our control. This is one of them.]”

“[I suppose so,]” she said. “[I’ll be praying for you until you get back.]”

He smiled. “[I’ll second that. Two are more than one after all. I’ll keep in contact as much as I can. And don’t forget to look after yourself.]”

“[I won’t,]” she promised. “[I love you.]”

“[I love you too,]” he told her, stepping. “[Goodbye for now.]”

With the twilight at his back and his family waving goodbye, and their picture close to his heart, Duri Eun-Jung turned his back and became yet another soldier marching off to the war that would determine the future of humanity.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

Subsection 1.3: ADVENT Agencies

Description and Functionality: The purpose of ADVENT agencies are to fulfill certain roles within the Executive Branch and regulate various aspects with a focus on safety, efficiency and undisputed. Following Agencies are defined below, and more may be added at the discretion of the Chancellor of ADVENT in accordance with the Congress of Nation. (Additional information on each agency is in Section 5)

 **ADVENT Department of Energy and Renewable Sources:** Conducts research on new forms of energy and effective management of sources currently in usage.

 **ADVENT Bureau of Education:** Oversees the structure and integration of schooling and education at all levels and types.

 **ADVENT Research and Development:** Conducts experimental research for both military and civilian usage and integration.

 **ADVENT Engineering and Advanced Technology:** Develops and creates improved technology and gadgets for military and civilian usage.

 **ADVENT Internal Affairs and Oversight:** Performs the role of oversight for all ADVENT agencies, the Executive, Legislative and Judicial branches.

 **ADVENT Election Oversight:** Oversees all aspects of elections, including the screening of candidates.

 **ADVENT Diplomatic Service:** Performs the role of diplomats of ADVENT to all non-ADVENT nations.

 **ADVENT Agriculture and Food Oversight:** Regulates and ensures that the agriculture industry produces high-quality products for usage within ADVENT.

 **ADVENT Department of Infrastructure:** Oversees the creation, upkeep and architecture of infrastructure matters within ADVENT.

 **ADVENT Adoption and Child Services:** Oversees and regulates all aspects relating to adoption and handles matters relating to child abuse or neglect.

 **ADVENT Drug and Substance Research:** Conducts research on all known drugs, and determines ones acceptable for public consumption or usage in medical environments.

 **ADVENT Department of Health and Medicine:** Oversees all aspects relating to civilian medicine and research. Also oversees regulation regarding doctors and additional medical professionals.

 **ADVENT Department of Commerce and Economy:** Oversees all aspects of the ADVENT economy and handles enforcement of economical regulations on corporations, banks and investors.


	6. To Serve and Protect

 

_Zanjan, Iran_

If there was one thing Roman Kostov found somewhat tolerable in this country, it was that it wasn’t all desert. Cities were modernized and, aside from the heat, bearable. It was the outside deserts that made him feel very little outside of constant the irritation he held towards Iran. Although perhaps that was unfair to the country. After all, it wasn’t like it had a choice in whether or not it was a desert.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

Anton and Elena took their positions beside the entrance, with Stanislav and Galina moving behind the house to protect against surprise exits. Maksim watched from afar, looking for stragglers and other unpleasant surprises. All of them were clad in the far superior ADVENT armor, although it had lost its black sheen after a single day in the Iranian deserts.

It was a purely cosmetic detail he appreciated about the Shieldbearer armor, that it was already white and he wasn’t as visibly affected by the elements as the other variants. The extra protection was a bonus, but it made the current offensives on Iran nearly trivial. Roman had very little idea where this tech had actually come from, but he was able to easily see the results.

The armor was more or less bulletproof against most conventional small arms used by the Iranians, which had allowed them to easily take the border cities with almost no casualties, and had additionally demonstrated the now-massive tech gap between the two militaries even _without_ mentioning the Gauss weapons that punched holes through regular body armor. Not even Iranian tanks could survive a constant barrage of simple gauss rifles for long.

Simply put, they were taking a country in weeks when it should have taken months. The defense around Zanjan had been foreboding initially, with the Iranians taking entrenched positions in the city and setting up their missile launchers. Unfortunately their firepower was negated with the deployment of the new THAAD defense system, and their defensive line was easily broken by the Russian ADVENT soldiers.

It appeared the Iranians still hadn’t figured out that the best way to kill a Russian ADVENT soldier was to concentrate fire on him and exploit their dangerous sense of invincibility. That was an issue Roman was noticing. Soldiers were now taking risks they wouldn’t otherwise simply because they believed the armor would protect them. Admittedly in most cases it would, but it was a dangerous mindset to get into especially since Roman knew they would be moving to the aliens after this.

In the meantime, they were focused on purging the city of the remaining Iranian soldiers. After breaking their lines, most had gone into hiding or just surrendered. Marshal Vladimir had no wish for guerilla campaigns to begin in captured cities, and so he was mobilizing all the forces to systematically sweep the entire city of Iranian hostiles.

The mandate was very simple: Neutralize all hostile soldiers, capture if possible, arrest if suspect, subdue if resist. Do not prioritize civilian life over Russian soldiers.

Roman was unsurprised by the last order. Marshal Vladimir knew what desperate soldiers did when cornered, and hostage situations were inevitable. While not explicitly ordering them to ignore the hostages, the implication was that a free Iranian soldier posed a threat to Russians, and that was simply not tolerable.

Roman didn’t mind. He viewed this entire operation likely how President Savvin did. An opportunity to purge the region of dissent, corrupting influences and terrorism for decades to come. It would of course not stop the inevitable uprisings, but Roman had been rather pleased to find out that _this_ time there would be nothing stopping them from crushing the resistances irreparably.

But that would come later, and that was the job of the Peacekeepers.

His job was to deal with the threats here and now.

Elena put away her scanner and nodded up at him. Good, no explosives near the doors. Even ADVENT armor didn’t protect from mines or point-blank explosives. He slammed a fist on the door several times. “This is the ADVENT Russian Division! You are instructed to exit the building within thirty seconds and provide no resistance! Should you not comply we will enter and subdue any resistance. This is your only warning!”

He figured they didn’t understand Russian, so English the probably the next best thing. But it was not guaranteed and he wasn’t expecting them to actually come out since most soldiers weren’t keen on surrendering, and the civilians were either too confused or terrified to follow instructions. Nevertheless he stepped back and raised his rifle at the door. “[Anything?]” He asked through his helmet comlink to his squad, another wonderful feature of the ADVENT armor.

“[ _Negative,_ ]” Stanislav answered from the back. _“[Nothing on our ends]”_

 _“[Same,]”_ Maksim reported from his sniping position. _“[I’d say go for it. Pretty sure thirty seconds is up.]”_

“[Guess so,]” Roman sighed, and readied his shield. “[Prepare to breach everyone, on the normal signal. Copy]”

 _“[Copy, Shieldbearer,]”_ Stanislav confirmed.

 _“[Copy,]”_ Elena nodded and Anton echoed her words.

Roman walked up to the door, fired a single gauss round at the locking mechanism and kicked it in with one practiced motion. A second later he activated the unique aspect of his armor: the shield itself. It manifested as a faint red covering over the armor itself, and had the useful ability of being able to deflect several bursts of projectiles. It never lasted more than a few, but those few were crucial when doing breaches of this nature. That being said, he still tried to avoid being hit. The batteries charging the suit _did_ recharge over time but that took longer than was acceptable, He did have several spares in that case, but only a few.

How it actually worked was somewhat fuzzier, though he knew there were two variations of the shield. One for conventional weapons and one for alien ones. It utilized magnetic fields for the ballistic variant, which appeared to have the effect of deflection. He hadn’t had the opportunity to test the anti-alien weapon part, but figured it probably wouldn’t be _quite_ as effective.

He swung his weapon around as he quickly scanned the small, but open living room. Nothing so far-a soldier in the tan uniform of the Iranian military sprang up from behind a counter and began firing his rifle while shouting at him in Persian. Roman sidestepped, took a quick second to aim before the fire became more accurate, and fired several shots at the man.

He screamed and went spinning backwards, crashing into a nearby table and knocking all the dishes off, which fell to the ground with a crash. Roman grimaced, he’d taken a glancing blow. He took a brief second to look at the uniform, even as the man tried to right himself. Just a regular soldier, not worth trying to capture. Roman shot him several times in the head, turning it to mush and splattering the walls with red.

“[One hostile down,]” he reported as Anton and Elena came in behind him. Stanislav kicked in the back door and marched in, weapons raised with Galina close behind.

“[Exits are secured,]” Stanislav declared, motioning Galina to stay by the door.

“[Elena, with me,]” Roman ordered as they moved to the hallways. “[Anton, clear the rooms opposite mine.]”

“[Got it,]” Anton nodded and Roman and Elena walked into the segregated hallway from the rest of the living room. Roman motioned to the left and Elena followed as they reached the first door. He slowly reached over and turned the doorknob, pushing it open to reveal an empty bathroom. Just to be sure, he entered and pushed aside the shower curtains. Nothing.

“[Clear,]” he said and they proceeded to the next room. He repeated the same procedure and this time revealed what seemed to be a child’s room. Toys were strewn about on the floor, and the colors were of a much younger child, maybe between six and ten. “[Be advised we may have civilians,]” Roman warned.

They reached the room at the end of the hallway. _“[Roman, got a stairway leading to a basement,]”_ Anton said. _“[Instructions?]”_

“[Hold position until the first floor is clear,]” Roman ordered, reaching over and turning to doorknob of the last room. “[Almost done.]”

He pushed in the door and swept the larger bedroom with his rifle until it rested on a two people, huddling in a corner. A terrified woman and a young girl who started crying the moment his rifle rested on her. “[Two civilians,]” Roman reported as the woman began shouting at him angrily in Persian while half-sobbing. “[Elena, take them outside and turn them in to the Peacekeepers for screening.]”

“[On it,]” Elena said, holstering her rifle and motioning the woman to follow her. Roman left her to take care of the civilians and walked back to Anton who was dutifully standing in front of the door that had a stairway leading down.

“[Ready?]” Anton asked, looking over as he approached.

“[I’ll take point,]” Roman said reaching over to the lightswitch. “[Killing the lights, switch to night-vision.]”

They made their way down, rifles raised as the stairs turned sharply a couple times until they were in what appeared to be a storage basement. Crates, barrels and boxes were stacked in ordered rows, which he didn’t fail to note were arranged in a way that could also form a barricade. Not that it would help against concentrated gauss fire.

“This is your final chance to surrender!” Roman called out as Anton took a position beside him.

Silence.

Roman pursed his lips and nodded to Anton. “[Killzone.]”

At that command they began firing into the crates, splintering the cheap wood and shattering the more fragile cases apart. The constant sound of gauss rifles was only briefly punctuated by several brief screams of pain. Both of them continued firing. If anyone was there, they had passed up their chance to surrender.

They had no time for mercy now.

“[Cease fire,]” Roman ordered, raising a palm. “[Forward.]”

They walked through the now-ruined basement, wood cracking and splintering where their boots touched. Glass and plastic crunched with each step they took. Roman spotted a corpse thrown against two broken barrels. His body was leaking blood and ripped apart from gauss rounds. “[One hostile down,]” he reported.

“[Make that two,]” Anton corrected, nodding towards a female corpse that no longer had a head. Roman nodded and kept walking until they reached the end.

“[House clear,]” he reported. “[We’re coming back up now.]”

 _“[Civilians are turned in to the Peacekeepers,]”_ Elena reported. _“[Regroup outside. We’ve got a lot more houses to clear.]”_

“[That we do,]” Roman grunted as they walked up the stairs, the sounds of more gunfire reaching his ears as more teams did their work purging the city of any resistance. That was just how it had to be. He looked down the street, at ordinary houses that nonetheless were all possible threats.

And it was their job to neutralize each one.

“[Come on,]” he ordered, reloading his gauss rifle. “[We’ve got work to do.]”

***

_Zanjan ADVENT Command, Iran_

“[I never thought my day would be spent raiding houses looking for isolated soldiers,]” Galina said as they strode into the temporary assigned barracks. It consisted of pretty much nothing but a few bunk beds and lockers, but it worked. Galina immediately plopped down on her bunk and pulled off her helmet and carefully set it at her side as she reached for her cloth she used for cleaning.

The rest of them did something similar. Roman pulled off his helmet and carefully set it down, then rested his head on the back of the wall and took a moment to breath. “[Look on the bright side,]” Anton said as he began taking off his armor. “[At least they couldn’t hurt us.]”

“[Yet,]” Konstantin grumbled as he laid on the cot, too exhausted to even take off his armor. “[They have to figure it out eventually.]”

“[Maybe,]” Galina shrugged, as she cleaned the bloodstains off her helmet. “[But I doubt it. We don’t leave enough alive to get something like that back to wherever their capital is.]”

“[Good point,]” Roman chuckled, straightening up again and appraising Galina. “[Question. Do you think we’d take more alive if any of us spoke Persian?]”

“[Doubt it,]” Stanislav said, rubbing his unkempt beard. “[People like this don’t surrender. Saw it all the time during the War on Terror. Fanatics don’t listen to reason or logic.]”

“[Bad example,]” Elena chided, coming to sit down by Roman, who lowered himself to also sit down by her. “[Those were terrorists, these are soldiers.]”

“[Still applies,]” Stanislav defended. “[They’re defending their home _and_ are under orders. One or both of those, along with being isolated with invincible soldiers coming at you, probably means they aren’t thinking straight anymore.]”

He shrugged. “[But hey, I’m not here to psychoanalyze them. Just to put them down if they give us trouble.]”

“[Did that a little _too_ well,]” Maksim commented, resting his sniper rifle on the wall and giving them disappointed looks. “[Do you have any idea just how boring today was?]”

Roman raised an eyebrow and they all chuckled. “[You would _prefer_ getting shot at?]”

“[Yes, because you were _so_ concerned about that,]” Maksim commented sarcastically. “[Seriously. Not fair if you have all the fun.]”

Konstantin took a sip from one of the water bottles he kept on him. “[Hey, I’d let one go to give you something to do, but I have no interest in getting chewed out, thank you very much. Trust me, I’ve never seen any operation like this run this tight.]”

“[I must have missed something,]” Elena said, looking to him. “[What do you mean?]”

Konstantin motioned outside. “[Out there I guarantee there are a couple hundred teams still working. This current operation is being run by Ivan, who you should know is extremely meticulous. He probably had everything mapped out before we even entered this region. Roman, help me out?]”

“[Can’t disagree,]” Roman admitted. “[Ivan was very clear that he wanted those houses we cleared done by a specific time.]”

“[Anything to make him happy,]” Galina said, brushing some blonde strands out of her eyes. “[At least we know that’s why you were in ‘no taking prisoners’ mode today.]”

Roman snorted. “[When am I not?]”

“[Eh, point taken,]” Galina conceded with a smile. “[But there have been times.]”

“[It’s nice to not have to worry about that,]” Maksim said wistfully. “[I’d always be worried some overly-naïve journalist will interview some poor widow who saw her terrorist husband shot in front of her, which will then lead to a global outcry and me getting discharged for doing my damn job.]”

“[Don’t need to worry about that anymore. Seriously,]” Roman said, pointing to his bunk where a file was poking from the edge. “[Read the ADVENT Rules of Engagement sometime. We’re pretty much allowed to defend ourselves if it’s justified. Someone pulls a gun on you, shoot them. They throw a punch, shoot them. And so on. Perfectly legal and justified, and if someone does complain….]” He tapped the armor. “[Why do you think we have body cameras?]”

“[Also explains why tampering gets you arrested,]” Anton noted. “[It’s sort of refreshing how this is written. Like they actually had a soldier do it.]”

Roman was about to say something when his earpiece beeped and he clicked it. “[Sir?]”

 _“[Come to my office,]”_ Colonel General Ivan Frolov ordered. _“[We need to discuss moving forward.]”_

“[I’ll be there,]” he said and clicked the link off. “[Reporting to Ivan now. Wish me luck.]”

“[We’ll be ready to move if he needs us,]” Stanislav promised.

“[But I’ll be sleeping until then,]” Konstantin added into his pillow.

Roman smirked at that, grabbed his helmet and began walking to the “office” of Ivan which in reality was what had been more or less the center of government, now converted for military use. Roman looked over to the processing areas which had been set up shortly after occupation began. There were still long lines of civilians out the doors, and a short distance further were where the captured or surrendered Iranian soldiers were being processed. Roman didn’t know what they were doing to them, and frankly, didn’t care.

It was a problem he was glad he wasn’t in charge of solving. Because prisoners were a serious liability with no redeeming features whatsoever here. All they accomplished was filling up jail space and otherwise served no useful purpose. Eh, but again, that wasn’t his problem, and he hadn’t looked into the ADVENT rules on prisoners of war.

The two captains stepped aside as he walked up. Aside from the color, Shieldbearer armor was bulkier and the helmet was more angular than regular troopers or captains. It was a much easier way to recognize superior officers without peering at badges. Ivan had set up his office close to the entrance, so it only took a minute to find it and Roman just walked in because the Colonel General didn’t like wasting time.

“[Shieldbearer,]” Ivan stated as he walked into the office. The aged man was looking over a holotable depicting Iran, color-coded to show territory captured by them so far. From his estimation it appeared that only a fifth of it was captured, which was admittedly more than it should have been at this point.

“[Colonel General,]” he returned, saluting and suddenly realizing that it was a _hologram_ he was looking at. An actual hologram. They really were living in the future. “[You wanted to see me, sir?]” He asked, returning to the subject at hand.

“[Correct,]” Ivan said, his sharp eyes still on the map. “[I’m curious, what do you make of it?]”

“[We still have quite a bit to do,]” Roman said, not wanting to waste time wondering if this was some sort of test. Ivan didn’t work like that.

“[Of course we do,]” Ivan said, looking up at the first time to the veteran Russian soldier. “[But fortunately, the situation is much better than it appears.]” He pointed at the map. “[The land mass is large, but mostly unimportant. Once we take Tehran, the Iranians are effectively destroyed. It is their capital and once it falls, so does Iran.]”

Roman saw it now. “[We’re not far then.]”

Ivan gave a humorless smile. “[No, we are not. I have wanted to take the methodical approach to ensure that we push their army into Tehran, make it their final stand. But we are unfortunately going too slow.]”

“[I’m working my team as hard as possible, sir,]” Roman said. “[But work too fast-]”

“[That isn’t a comment on your performance, Shieldbearer,]” Ivan interrupted, raising a hand. “[You and your team have performed commendably. The issue is that in the grand scheme, this war is nothing. A last gasp of an irrelevant and outdated culture, but one that will fight to the last breath.]”

“[The aliens.]” Roman nodded. “[We need to focus on them.]”

“[You understand quickly,]” Ivan said approvingly. “[Good. But we unfortunately cannot simply leave the Middle East alone. They do not care about the aliens and must be brought in line with ADVENT. I have spoken with the officers in ADVENT Command. They want this war _ended_ before the aliens begin multiple offensives. Impossible to end a war on this scale in months, let alone weeks, but Marshal Vladimir had given the orders to bring this war to a swift end and I intend to accomplish that.]”

Roman waited. “[How, sir?]”

Ivan straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “[ADVENT rules of engagement are more lenient than I’m used to, so I intend to utilize that. See if you can find Hamedan on the map.” Roman complied and found the city south of where they were, and not far from Tehran itself. He pointed and Ivan nodded. “[That is our next target. And where I will test how far the Iranians are willing to go to protect their country.]”

“[Noted, sir,]” Roman said. “[I assume the engagement will be different?]”

“[Correct,]” Ivan said. “[I see no point wasting time in drawn out firefights that take a week for us to move into the city where it can be done far sooner. What will happen is this: I will issue an offer for the city to surrender for one day only. Should they refuse, I will let them know that if they do not comply, I will raze the city to the ground.]”

Roman blinked. He wasn’t exactly an empathetic person, but even he knew that was somewhat extreme, even for a pragmatist like Ivan. “[Sir, the civilians-]”

“[Will be warned as well,]” Ivan said dismissively. “[ADVENT ROE specifically states that civilian deaths are allowed if every attempt was made to prevent them. I will make it as clear as possible the attack is coming and give them adequate time to leave. If they stay, they have knowingly ignored the warning and have no special protections under ADVENT.]”

Roman understood the logic, but still frowned. “[What if the Iranian Army doesn’t let them leave?]”

Ivan looked at him with unflinching ice-cold eyes. “[This is not the way I want this war to go, Shieldbearer, but compared to the threat coming, this city is _nothing_ , this war is _irrelevant_. If I must make an example of a city to end this war months earlier, then so be it.]”

Roman looked at the map. “[This is a message to Tehran.]”

“[Correct,]” Ivan stated, also looking at the map. “[I suspect Hamedan will not take my warning seriously. I do not expect them to comply and when their city is in ruins, it will send a message to Tehran that if they don’t comply, the same will happen to them. We will take over all Iranian channels and broadcast the footage from this over and over to make them see what we will do to them. If they will not listen to reason, then I will make them respond to fear.]”

“[And what do you need from me, sir?]”

“[Your team will be one of those sweeping the ruins for survivors,]” Ivan stated coldly. “[You are to consider everything in that area hostile and remove them as such. We have enough prisoners as it is. Do you understand?]”

“[Yes, sir!]” Roman confirmed.

Ivan gave one nod. “[I understand what I am saying, but I also know you agree that we have little choice. Tell your team their assignment. The main bulk of our forces will move out in two days, and the Peacekeepers will keep order in the city. Prepare accordingly. Dismissed.]”

Roman saluted, and exited the office, a dark and grim cloud of responsibility hanging over him as he went to share the grisly details of their next assignment with his team. But Ivan was right. Their choices were limited and one war was more important than the other.

A few thousand lives were nothing compared to millions, after all.

***

_Washington DC, United States of America_

Traffic was always bad here, and today, of course, it was even worse. Had she not had larger things to worry about, Jaylin Tanika would be sufficiently irritated. Which wasn’t to say she _wasn’t_ , but it was a more resigned irritation rather than something white-hot within her. It really was amazing how everything could change almost overnight.

At least it had seemed that way to her.

Not one day after the good Madame President had officially put the US into ADVENT, law enforcement had undergone major revisions. Ranks were being redone, laws were being changed to adopt the new rules of the ADVENT Peacekeepers of which she was now one, by virtue of previously being in Riot Control.

It had happened so quickly Jaylin still wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or not by the sudden decisions. It was likely dulled by the fact that her job was only getting harder after Treduant had made the proclamation. Because whenever something controversial happened, she damn well knew that there would be a _lot_ of protests.

 _Especially_ in DC where anyone with any sort of political power now had one target: President Nicole Treduant.

And today was the day when they were expecting the largest protest in American history, and she was going to help make sure it didn’t devolve into rioting. In her experience though, that was exactly what she was expecting to happen. The projected demographics were all over the place, and over such a sensitive subject as independence, _peaceful protest_ was not something she was expecting.

More importantly, for her it would be an interesting demonstration of how ADVENT wanted to run things. She doubted it would be _too_ different, otherwise she doubted the chiefs would allow this Peacekeeper program to be integrated so smoothly. The good news for her was that it was at least looking like an upgrade.

When she’d seen the armor worn by the ADVENT soldiers, she had subconsciously wondered if they were due for a similar upgrade, and then dismissed it quickly. There was no way ADVENT would shell out that kind of money for their equivalent of a police force…but sure enough, they had and what she was wearing now was proof of it.

With the exception of the left arm, it was identical to the trooper armor with the addition of a white shoulder cape on whatever side the dominant arm was, which in her case was the right. The left arm was bulkier because it had a built-in transparent riot shield that could be activated with the press of a button. And today Chief Rais had sent out a memo that their crowd-control equipment was also being overhauled, though he hadn’t been able to give out details.

Either way, Jaylin knew that there were going to be quite a few people upset. For some reason, there were people who had issues with police, and riot police in particular, and would no doubt try and discredit them in whatever way they could. It wasn’t difficult to cause controversy these days, and Jaylin found it somewhat irritating to be worrying about public response when she did her job.

Serve and Protect. That was the motto, but for her it did not extend to criminals and lawbreakers. You serve and protect the people who deserve it, it wasn’t an innate privilege and certainly not a right she was willing to afford to everyone. It wasn’t high standard either. Follow the law and you had nothing to worry about.

A sentiment that a certain portion of the populace didn’t seem to grasp.

Jaylin finally arrived at the station and quickly exited, nearly tripping over her boots as she still wasn’t used to the much heavier armor. Yet. It also appeared that not everyone had received the upgrade since as she walked by, most officers were in their regular uniforms, whistling in surprise and giving envious looks at the armor itself.

It did make sense that they would want to protect the riot police first, but she figured it was only a matter of time before the rest of the department got upgraded as well. “So how is it?” Secretary Vale asked as she walked up to check in, a pen tapping idly in his fingers as his vibrant gray eyes looked over her armor with unbridled curiosity.

“Heavy,” she answered, handing him her badge. “But actually pretty comfortable. I’m surprised they even gave it to us.”

“Can’t wait to get mine,” he chuckled as he scanned her badge. “Although they’ll probably only give them to patrol officers, not desk workers like me.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Jaylin shrugged. “Did the Chief leave any place he wanted me to go?”

“Shooting range,” Vale answered, handing her the badge back. “Got some new toys for you, I think.”

“Thanks,” she said, and began making her way to the shooting range. It only took a few minutes and she entered the packed shooting range with her colleagues all wearing the same black armor as her. Even unarmed they were an impressive sight. She spotted Rose and Troy chatting nearby and headed towards them.

Rose spotted her quickly and gave a wide smile. “Captain, glad you finally made it!”

“Have some faith,” Jaylin smirked. “You really think I would be late today of all days?”

“Not by choice,” Troy corrected, his neatly trimmed beard almost giving him a sinister appearance as he looked down at her. “It isn’t pretty out there.”

“That’s DC traffic,” Jaylin dismissed. “Tell me it isn’t pretty in a few hours. And speaking of that, what are we waiting for?”

“The chief to get down here,” Rose muttered, shooting an irritated look to the far exit. “He better hurry otherwise we’ll _actually_ be putting down a riot. You know how these people are.”

“And they have a tendency to start early,” Troy added grimly, crossing his arms. “I just can’t wait. How many outlets do you think will be covering this? Six?”

“This is getting national attention,” Jaylin grumbled, pushing a black strand of hair out of her face. “Every damn station will be covering this. No pressure on us, of course.”

Rose looked ready to agree before they were interrupted by the door opening and Chief Rais strode out, also wearing the same armor as them except for his shoulder cape which was white and red. “Listen up!” He ordered, his booming voice immediately silencing the chatter. Rais had a gift for commanding attention which completely matched his gruff and serious persona and face. If anyone saw it, they would (correctly) assume him to be someone who’d never had a happy thought in his life.

Although that wasn’t exactly fair, he just took his job _way_ more seriously than was probably healthy.

“We have one mandate for today,” he continued, pacing back and forth in front of them. “ _Keep the peace_. Failing that, _control the situation_. They’re expecting at least half a million people and we are _not_ going to have DC turn into a warzone. Got it?”

“ _Yes, sir!”_

“Right,” he continued. “You’ve already got your armor, now the new tools ADVENT has provided. And no, don’t ask me why, who or how. Either I don’t know or am not at liberty to say. Just be happy. You’ll have three main pieces of equipment.” He raised a grayish rifle thing, with a very odd barrel and no bullet cartridge she could see.

“First piece,” he bellowed. “The ARC Rifle, your main means of pacification and control. Fires bolts of electricity to stun or knock out troublemakers.” He turned away, aimed the rifle at a nearby dummy and fired. Jaylin didn’t see the bolt exit, but she heard the sharp static discharge and saw a blue flash hit the dummy. “Minimum setting is enough to knock out an adult,” Rais warned, turning back to them. “Can adjust up to lethal, but you are _not_ allowed to do so without permission. Short version: This thing hurts so don’t use it unless you have to.”

Jaylin still had her eyes fixed on the rifle. Well that was something she hadn’t expected. That told her more about ADVENT’s priorities than some document ever could. You didn’t give that to your Peacekeepers unless you were expecting trouble, and you wanted that trouble gone. Regardless, she definitely wasn’t going to complain.

“You’ve got a short-range countermeasure as well,” Rais continued, pulling out what looked like a black stick an arm’s length long. There were bumps along the side, but Jaylin had a good idea of what it was. “The new and improved stun baton,” he continued. “Each blow delivers a shock when activated, and can be optimized to stun on impact.” To emphasize his point, he flipped a switch on the baton and odd white discharges manifested on the baton and vanished in milliseconds with sharp snaps. “Hurts like hell so don’t take these lightly. If we’re dealing with an insurrection, switch it to lethal mode.”

Jaylin blinked. _Lethal mode_? Rais shut off the electricity of the baton, turned the stick itself until she heard a click and when he pressed the button again, those bumps on the side snapped out into wicked-looking spikes, electricity arcing between the teeth. “These are just as sharp as they look,” Rais warned. “And the output is enough to send a healthy adult into cardiac arrest. As such you are _only_ to use lethal mode when authorized and better yet, isolated. You have better chance of killing your partners than hostiles when this is active. If your life is genuinely in danger, that’s why you have _this_.”

He pulled out a black pistol, finger off the trigger. “The new standard-issue Gauss pistol. Again, don’t use this unless you fully intend to kill someone with it. This piece will tear any regular bulletproof vest to shreds and will pierce most cover. Packs a punch, so be careful with it. Questions? You.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” one black-haired officer said slowly-Robert, that was his name. “But this seems like a lot of…well, firepower. I thought there were restrictions on that for us.”

“There were,” Rais confirmed with a nod. “But the laws have changed thanks to ADVENT. Our job is to keep order and as long as it is done within the law, we are free to deal with criminals with appropriate prejudice.” He raised a finger. “Which brings me to a _very_ important point.”

His gaze swept the room. “Just because you _have_ to ability to neutralize someone, that _does not_ mean you get to. You are _only_ allowed to intervene if there is clear agitation. Someone throws bottles or rocks at you, knock them out and drag their ass to jail. That does _not_ mean that you can shock someone who flips you off and calls you mean names.”

He tapped his chest. “So in case you didn’t know, we’ve got cameras in these now. You get someone killed? We’ll know if it’s justified. Someone tries to falsely accuse you of police brutality or whatnot? We can check and if they are lying, we punish them. Clear and simple. So the good news is that under ADVENT we have a lot more freedom to deal with criminals and deviants, so long as it is within the law. Bad news is that we’re under their oversight and it’s gonna be a lot more paperwork for everyone.”

He paused his pacing and faced them intently. “ADVENT wanted this point stressed: They will not tolerate any systemic abuses of power. You do that, you’re not getting a weeks-long review, you’re going to _jail_ if the footage matches up. If they find you tampered with your suits camera, you’re going to jail. Cameras are always running on duty, and you are required to upload it weekly. Failure to do so will lead to prosecution. That clear?”

_“Yes, sir!”_

“Alright, that out of the way, let’s get to work,” Rais nodded. “There’s a good chance we’re going to have to stop the groups from fighting among themselves. Indications are that we’ve got the far-right militant groups marching with hippies, and so on, so don’t be surprised if you end up breaking up fights between them. More information will be given on the way. But we’re on a timetable, so let’s move out! Crates containing your new weapons are on the way.”

“This should be interesting,” Rose said as they followed the Chief out, and Jaylin could only nod in agreement.

Today was going to be a very interesting day indeed.

***

_Kochi, Japan_

Everything was going at full speed here. Entire squads dashed past him and engineering teams were moving missiles and THAAD Defense systems into place. More workers were establishing barricades on the coast for the inevitable attack. Duri took a few minutes to see what exactly they were doing.

To a certain extent, it appeared that the plan was to allow _some_ space for the aliens to deploy soldiers, and have a line almost immediately after that of soldiers to shoot them down. It was bait, without even counting the fact that Duri noted them setting mines on the ground. Kochi didn’t really have conventional beaches, and was packed with as many buildings as possible. Impressive, but not exactly helpful for defending against an attack.

On the flipside, it would be easy to outflank and outmaneuver the alien forces who wouldn’t be familiar with the territory. He supposed what he’d do would heavily depend on where he was stationed. But first he actually had to _find_ where his team was supposed to be, which was-he unwrapped the paper in his hand-the converted barracks, region 42-not far from here.

Figuring it best not to waste time, he broke into a light jog and managed to hitch a ride on one of the carts going there and finally arrived at what had probably been a police station of sorts before being converted. It was highly disorganized, with unopened boxes and random scraps of metal and cloth strewn around as bunks were hastily erected and thin plastic walls were put up.

In any case, he finally found where his team was supposed to be, and sure enough they were all there. In fact they already seemed to be getting along. “Mutons,” one was saying, who Duri assumed was the North Korean of the team. He seemed awfully young with a flawless face and neatly trimmed black hair. He had a finger raised as he spoke to two others, a man and woman. “Those are the ones you need to be careful of.”

“The big ones,” the woman nodded, definitely an American from the accent. “I saw them from the New York attacks.”

The North Korean frowned. “I…no, those aren’t the usual ones. Those are a bigger version. The regular ones have green armor and are much smaller.”

“A relief, I guess,” the man said, who interestingly enough had a full, but neat beard. Duri couldn’t place the accent…Swedish, since he was pretty sure it wasn’t Venezuelan.

“Got company,” a Hispanic woman grunted from the corner, not pausing as she cleaned her sniper rifle. The rest of them looked at him, all standing at attention.

“At ease,” he said, flicking his hand. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he looked at the young North Korean. “Although names would be nice.”

“Captain Eun-Jung, correct?” The other man asked, approaching him and extending a hand. “Johan Eriksson, Swedish Army.”

“Duri’s fine,” he answered, taking the offered hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Cara,” the American woman said with a smile and a lazily lifted hand. “US Army. Actually spent some time in South Korea a few years ago. Beautiful country.” She pointed at the woman cleaning her sniper rifle. “That’s Miss Sanchez, she mostly likes keeping to herself.”

“Shut up, Boreal,” Sanchez muttered, rising. “I can speak for myself, thank you.” Now that she stood, Duri noted that she was probably the tallest out of all of them, with her raven hair falling to just above her shoulders. “It’s Beatriz Sanchez, Captain, Venezuela Army Sniper Corps.”

Duri gave a slight smile. “Glad to have you here. Snipers are always useful.”

Her lips twitched a little at that. “Yeah, I guess so Captain.”

Hmm. There was definitely something with her he’d have to look into later. In the meantime, there was one final team member. “Kang Il Sim, Captain,” the North Korean said, inclining his head. “I was updating Cara and Johan on the aliens we are likely to face.”

“I heard,” Duri nodded. “Where did you learn that? It’s correct, but as far as I know only the Captains were given specific intel.”

“Information on specific alien types was distributed to the entirety of the North Korean military,” Kang explained without emotion. “It was initially gathered from our own encounters with the aliens, and I suspect XCOM updated our lists later on.”

“You might have saved me some time,” Duri said, pulling a roll of paper from a pouch in his armor. “Have experience with Andromedons?”

Kang furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m unfamiliar with that unit.”

“Is that a code-word or are they actually called that?” Cara asked skeptically.

“Don’t know,” Duri admitted, handing her the information he’d received on it. “But that’s what XCOM is calling it. Seems even worse than a muton, at least the green ones.”

“Not a psion, though,” Cara said after reading for a few minutes. “So that’s something.”

“As far as we’re aware, the only psions are Sectoids and Ethereals,” Duri confirmed. “And XCOM has their own.”

“I wonder if we’ll get our own too,” Johan wondered thoughtfully. “In all of ADVENT, there have to be _some_ who can do it.”

Duri heard Beatriz snort in her corner. “Of course there are. Thing is that XCOM wants them all to themselves.”

“C’mon,” Cara said wearily. “You really believe that?”

“Call it a feeling,” she muttered. “Besides, I’ve seen the Commander of XCOM before.”

Duri looked at her in interest. “You know who he is?”

“Nope,” Beatriz admitted slowly, looking up at him with weary eyes. “But he came to Venezuela once, official visit I think. Definitely American. I don’t know what happened other than that all the command staff were really spooked for months afterwards.” She shrugged. “That was fifteen years ago though, pre-War on Terror for you younger ones. But I don’t trust him.”

“Well, I have to say you’re wrong,” Kang stated boldly, casting a disapproving eye on Beatriz. “If not for the Commander and XCOM, we would likely be in a much worse position.”

“You believe that?” Beatriz asked wearily, setting her sniper rifle on the wall. “Or do you just think that because your Supreme Leader said so?”

Oh dear, this was not what he wanted to deal with. “Enough,” he ordered, raising a hand before Kang could give a righteously indignant response. “Insulting each other is _not_ going to be allowed. You can have your opinion Beatriz, and Kang, you have to respect that.”

Kang shut his mouth. “Yes, Captain.”

“Whatever XCOM is, or is not, that isn’t what we should focus on,” Duri continued. “We’re probably going to be under attack soon and we need to prepare for what we’re facing.” He set his pack down and pulled out the map he’d been given. “Break time’s over, I’ve got the location of where we’re going to be.” He went over and pulled a table to the center and they gathered around it and he laid the map flat on it. “Time to get started. Beatriz, if you’re our sniper, where do you think your best positions will be?”

***

_Washington DC, United States of America_

The ARC rifle was much lighter than any firearm she’d ever wielded in her life. It seemed to weight almost nothing as she held it in her hands, watching as the huge throng of people marched in front of the White House. Jaylin had wondered what presidents did when people protested outside what was essentially your house. If _she_ were president, she’d probably not pay any attention and go about her day.

But Treduant had displayed some amount of cunning, and an intolerance for threats to her, so it was unlikely she was writing this off. Her loss, if this was any indication Treduant had nothing to worry about because these people had no unified message, they were only united in their belief that what was happening _now_ was wrong, and Jaylin was certain that the solutions of the different factions would clash the moment they were proposed.

Echoes of chants and cheers were shouted every few minutes, repeated by the crowd jubilantly. Catchy in a way, but only served to keep up a crowd’s energy and enthusiasm. As usual there were the vast array of signs and banners that of course had contradicting goals and motivations.

_Take our country back!_

_Impeach Treduant!_

_Traitors will be punished!_

_Freedom before Tyranny!_

_Peace not War!_

Jaylin had to shake her head at some of them. Peace? Impeachment? Tyranny? It was clear that some of these people didn’t actually know what they were asking, nor what they were talking about. Did some want _peace_ with the aliens? Why exactly should Treduant be impeached? _What_ tyranny? Because Jaylin knew very well that if this was simply because they didn’t approve…well, they didn’t have any legal power to demand anything they were supposedly marching for.

But there was a very clear current of anger in the air. It was _real_ and it was enough to unite complete opposite political ideologies into one controlled mob that would ultimately accomplish little except wasting all of their time. There were a dozen more important things Jaylin could be doing, but no, these people wanted to make a point and thus she was ordered to indulge them.

At least the armor was serving a secondary purpose beyond protection. It was fortunately intimidating to quite a few people, with many avoiding eye contact and keeping a healthy distance from the armored Riot Police. Or ADVENT Riot Control, as they were designated now. Although now that several hours had passed, they were getting bolder.

And angrier.

 _“See that one in back?”_ Troy asked through their helmet comlinks. _“The one with the alien on the operating table?”_ Jaylin looked to where he was suggesting and saw the sign in question, it looked like a crudely drawn sectoid with red blood over it (She knew they actually bled yellow) and what looked like a knife stuck in it. How tragic, all underscored by the words _“They are lying to you”_ on the top.

“What does that even mean?” Jaylin asked wearily. “I never thought I would see conspiracy nuts out in the open.”

“ _I can answer that,”_ Rose said, likely smiling if her voice was any indication. _“So apparently, the aliens are actually benevolent and they are actually attacking the evil government as punishment for experimenting on them for years. All they truly want is peace.”_

Jaylin resisted the urge to facepalm. “Clearly these idiots didn’t pay attention to New York. Or Hamburg. Or fucking _Australia_.”

 _“Hey, I never said they were smart,”_ Rose teased. _“Just the deluded fantasies they believed. Like that guy over there.”_

Jaylin sighed and looked to where some guy was holding a sign that read _“Treduant is a pawn of the New World Order!”_ It was of course complete with a badly photoshopped image of Treduant in the middle of a globe, and surrounding her were equally badly photoshopped world leaders, Savvin, Gwan and amusingly enough, the XCOM logo as well. To top off the ridiculous sign was that it rested on some kind of satanic symbol…implying that the New World Order was a satanic cult? She didn’t know if she wanted an answer to that. So she summed up her feelings as best as possible.

“What an idiot.”

 _“Technically, you could make the case that ADVENT is a New World Order,”_ Troy pointed out coyly. _“But the issue is if that’s actually a bad thing.”_

“Not to mention it doesn’t actually include the whole world?” Jaylin added. “Where do people get these ridiculous ideas?”

 _“Oh, you’ll like this,”_ Rose chuckled. _“You know who Jonas Culbert is?”_

“No.”

 _“He is a…how do I put this?”_ Rose paused. _“A conspiracy ‘entertainer’ and I use that term very loosely. Has a pretty large online show. And runs such logical stories such as that XCOM is a secret US organization born out of MKUltra, ADVENT is the New World Order, and get this, he also believed that there was a legitimate Illuminati organization that secretly ruled the world. Although I’m actually not sure he believes this stuff. I really hope he doesn’t. But unfortunately, quite a few people buy that crap.”_

Jaylin looked over at her nonchalant friend casually holding her own ARC rifle as she observed the crowd. “Do I want to know how you know all this?” She asked.

Rose shrugged. _“Eh, some people watch movies and play games for entertainment. I just get mine from the idiots of the world. It is both depressing, and comforting to know that no matter how stupid I act, there will always be someone who believes the world is run by lizard people.”_

 _“You know, maybe we’re taking the wrong approach with the aliens,”_ Troy joked. _“Perhaps humanity had its chance and we deserve to face the consequences.”_

They all chuckled at that. _“Utterly hilarious, guys,”_ another officer said, Brandon, she believed. _“Could we focus? They seem to be getting antsy.”_

“Alright,” Jaylin said. “Game faces, everyone. Only a couple hours to go. We get out of here with no incidents and we don’t end up on the news.”

 _“Sufficient motivation for me,”_ Rose said. _“Hey, is that Senator Martain?”_

Jaylin peered into the crowd and spotted the silver-haired man walking with a throng of enthusiastic people, with some Capitol Police officers close behind him. “Yep, it seems so.”

 _“How truly a man of the people,”_ someone commented dryly. _“You know he’s going to use this for whenever his presidential run is.”_

“Not for a while,” Jaylin said as he walked past. “Not since Treduant postponed the elections.”

 _“She’ll have to open them eventually,”_ Troy said. _“I can see the ads now. ‘I stood with the people who were brave enough to oppose the tyranny of ADVENT’ or something like that.”_

Jaylin chuckled. “Man of the people, mind of a politician.”

 _“Shield!”_ Rose called and Jaylin hit the button on her arm and the transparent shield on her left arm snapped into place and she held it over her head and looked to see a brick hit Troy’s shield. She closed her own and raised her rifle.

“Lock down the area!” She ordered, adjusting the volume on her helmet projection system. “Attention citizens! Hold your positions until the area is swept! Do not attempt to leave.” She scanned crowd and spotted a hooded figure pushing through the crowd. “One spotted,” she informed, moving to follow. “Rose, with me, everyone else close ranks.”

“Burn in hell, traitors!” A voice shouted and several more blocks and a flaming bottle were flung at the line of officers. More hooded figures sprang up in the crowd, yelling more nonsense and slogans and that was all Jaylin needed. The body cams had sufficient evidence now.

“Lock this block down!” She snarled, raising her ARC rifle at one of the hooded figures. The crowd melted before her weapon as it spat electricity and the figure went down with a shriek. “One down,” she declared, moving onto the next target. “Do not attempt to leave this area!” She warned the crowd. “Unauthorized exits will lead to prosecution.”

Everyone seemed metaphorically stunned that she’d actually used the weapon in her hands and shrank back fearfully as she pursued through the crowd following the initial figure who’d started this.

 _“Two more are down,”_ Troy reported. _“Three more a fleeing. In pursuit now_.”

 _“Antifa?”_ Rose asked as they rounded a corner. _“Or someone else.”_

“We’ll ask them later,” Jaylin said, as she caught a glimpse of the black hood. “But it looks like it.”

 _“Wonderful,”_ Rose muttered.

Jaylin finally had a shot thanks to people moving out of the way. Her helmet projector at maximum, she shouted. “You in the hood! Put your hands in the air or I will shoot!”

He skidded to a stop, seeing more Riot Control closing the gap. He turned around and threw open his arms. “Go ahead!” He shouted. “Do it! Show what happens to people who dare defy the almighty ADVENT!”

 _“Just do it,”_ Rose said. _“We have evidence_.”

They did, but Jaylin wanted to make a point with this. If the little thug was determined to make a statement, she was more than willing to oblige once she discredited him. And if he showed some restraint? Well, good for him. Instead, she slung her ARC rifle over her shoulder into the neat holster in the back, and rested her hand on her stun baton.

“Come peacefully and I won’t need to,” she ordered the young man. “Get on the ground and put your hands up. You are under arrest for public disturbance and assault on multiple officers. We have footage of you, so the best thing you can do is-“

“Oh, go to hell!” He interrupted, eloquently flipping her off. She smirked and kept walking forward. She unfortunately knew exactly how this was going to end and did not feel any sympathy whatsoever.

She stopped right in front of the defiant thug. “Are you finished?” She asked, like a mother scolding a child. If there was anything that got these young anarchists riled up, it was being as patronizing as possible.

“You think this is a game?” He demanded. “At least I stand for something-“

“Yes, yes,” Jaylin dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Do you want to give me your speech now or in the car to your comfortable cell?”

He finally did it and swung a fist at her, and she allowed the young idiot to hurt his hand as it hit her hardened helmet. He gasped, and instead of backing down, pulled out a small knife. Jaylin immediately reacted. Fists were one thing, but she wasn’t going to risk getting stabbed to make a point. Besides, if he was dumb enough to try and hit an officer _in public_ , he completely deserved this.

She pulled out the baton and jabbed the blunt end into him, causing him to shriek in pain as electricity pulsed through his body, freezing him up. He collapsed he fell to his knees, even as Jaylin kept the baton firmly on his body, only pulling it off when she was certain he was unconscious. That done, she shut off the baton, placed back on her belt and handcuffed the man and unceremoniously slung him over her shoulder.

At this point she realized there were at least a dozen cell phones and cameras pointed at her, no doubt capturing the entire event. Well, she no longer had to worry about footage being misconstrued. She had the whole event recorded, and had been completely justified in her response. “I’ve got one hostile secured,” she reported. “Definitely seems to be Antifa.”

 _“We’ve got ours as well,”_ Troy reported. _“Loading them into the van for processing. These stun weapons are so much better. Much easier without a resisting perp.”_

“Unlock the event now,” Jaylin ordered. “Let them finish their protest. I think they’ll be more behaved this time.”

_“You’re the boss here. Doing it now.”_

Yes, today had indeed turned out interesting.

***

_Washington DC, United States of America_

Jaylin breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled into her garage. The day was over and it had gone…mostly according to plan. Luckily the rest of the protest had proceeded without incident, and the people had given every Riot Control Officer a wide berth and were much more…subdued, especially once word got around what had happened.

Although she was somewhat dreading going inside, turning on the TV and seeing herself.

But she might as well face the music now. Not that she had anything to worry about, since she’d turned everything over and informed Rais exactly what had happened. She’d followed the law and had nothing to worry about. However, Rais had warned that the major outlets were asking for the video and he was going to provide it.

It would be interesting to see how this was spun, but at least she wouldn’t suffer beyond the realm of public opinion, which didn’t mean much to her since her circle of friends didn’t extend far outside the department.

Reaching her room, she quickly got out of the armor, which took her a longer time than she’d been expecting due to her unfamiliarity. But after actually testing it out…yeah, definitely a major improvement. Perfect 10/10, would arrest thugs again, as the kids would say. Or at least they had, popular phrases and that seemed to change pretty frequently.

Now in a regular T-shirt and jeans, Jaylin walked to her kitchen and was reminded that she needed to stock up. She really should have stopped somewhere on the way back, and she really didn’t have the motivation to actually cook something tonight. Eh, a bag of chips would be sufficient for tonight. She’d deal with her woefully empty pantry tomorrow.

Her snack in hand, she walked over to her couch, which sat opposite her TV where she spent an hour or so a day in front of. It was really only useful for news, since she didn’t watch entertainment, and it didn’t take long for her to get irritated at the state of the world before she shut it off in disgust. Although it had become far more interesting recently, with the destruction of the UN and establishment of ADVENT.

She settled back and flipped on the news to some CNN anchors. She knew they had names, but they were really too boring for her to really bother to learn them, and as far as she was concerned, all of them were interchangeable. For the sake of it, today they were…Trevor and Rachael. Trevor was currently facing the camera and speaking in the ‘breaking news’ voice. _“Now to provide an update on the situation that developed today during one of the largest protests ever to take place in DC. We have reached out to the department, and they have provided us both with the names of the officers involved, and the footage of the incident itself.”_

 _“The footage that initially sparked online controversy appears to have been altered, compared to the raw footage provided to us,”_ Rachael added, shuffling some papers on her desk. _“It appears to confirm that the young man in question attempted to attack the officer in question, Jaylin Tanika, and that was the reason for her swift response.”_

“And that he was ignoring an officer,” Jaylin muttered, wincing as the picture of her appeared on the screen. It was probably the most unrepresentative picture of her that she could think of. They’d told her to smile and she’d given what now looked like a horribly fake parody of it. She looked like some suburban mom with that smile and loose black hair than an actual officer.

Although she did get some amusement knowing that, somewhere, there was some people who would be completely shocked at the knowledge that there was such a thing as a black female riot control officer. She smirked at the thought. At least this would dispel the accusations of racism that would have no doubt some up if she had literally had any other skin color.

 _“Nevertheless, this appears to raise some concerns about how ADVENT appears to conduct its law enforcement,”_ Trevor continued in a monotone voice. _“There have been swift condemnation of the force used to subdue the disrupters in question, which one senator has called ‘disproportionate’. We have reached out to both the department and the Chief of the ADVENT Peacekeepers.”_

 _“Chief Amalda Stein replied with, quote: ‘If they didn’t want to get arrested, they shouldn’t have attacked officers and attempted to flee,’”_ Rachael finished. Jaylin nodded in approval. She hadn’t heard of the Chief of the Peacekeepers, but she was liking her already. It was really common sense. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes that landed you in jail.

The talking heads began droning on about legislature response and were calling in so-called ‘experts’ who Jaylin had seen before and were so irrelevant they only fooled people who had no idea of how things were run today. Her phone buzzed suddenly and she pulled it out and frowned at the number. Why was Rais calling now?

“Hello?” She asked, continuing to eat her chips.

 _“Watching the news?”_ He asked.

“Yep,” she confirmed. “Not as bad as I was expecting.”

 _“Tends to happen when the main controversy is dispelled,”_ he grunted. _“Didn’t say it earlier, but good job.”_

She raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, Chief. Need me for something?” It was unheard of for him to call just to offer some support.

 _“I’ve got some good news for you actually,”_ he said. _“And some news you might or might not find good.”_

Well, now she was curious. “What is it?”

 _“ADVENT Peacekeeping command has decided to promote you to a mobile team captain,”_ he said. _“Essentially that means you can be moved around where they need you, and you get a larger command, better pay and benefits. All in all, a good deal.”_

That it was, even if she’d never heard of the position before. “I’m not complaining, but what’s the catch?”

There was a pause on the other end. _“Have you been following the situation in South America?”_

“A bit,” she admitted. “Not the most important news story to me at the moment.”

 _“Well, Brazil just completely captured Paraguay,”_ he said, making Jaylin think furiously. Where the hell was that? _“The short version is that the population is not under control and they need Peacekeepers. In this case, that means you.”_

Ohh, now she understood. “I’m going to Brazil? Do I get a say in this?”

 _“No, you do not,”_ Rais admitted. _“Short of quitting, you’re going where they send you, and that is where you’re needed.”_

Well…she wasn’t _entirely_ opposed to the idea. It actually might be a good idea to get out of the country for a bit. Not forever, of course, but if she was better down in Brazil, eh, at least she’d be in the center of world-changing events. And if she got to help restore order there, all the better. “Ok,” she said. “When do I leave?”

 _“Two days,”_ he said. _“There’s some paperwork and stuff you need to fill out and look over, but we’ll discuss that tomorrow. Get some rest, you deserve it.”_

“Thanks, Chief,” she said. “You too.”

She heard a chuckle. _“I wish. But it’s looking like a bunch of sleepless nights for me in the future.”_

He was probably right. If this was any indication, things were not going to improve in the next few months in the United States of America. Hopefully she’d be called back if it got too bad, but in the meantime, she was apparently going to be keeping order in a captured nation.

Never a dull moment, it seemed. But despite that, she was sort of excited to see what would come next.

***

_Hamedan, Iran_

There was something thoroughly incomparable about an assembled military bearing down on an opposing army. Roman felt nothing but patriotic pride at the sight of the army of Russian soldiers and vehicles preparing for the coming battle, for he now knew there would be one because the time that Colonel General Ivan had afforded Hamedan was over.

Missile launchers mounted on vehicles and entrenched in the ground itself were primed and aimed at the city of sand-blasted stone and metal. If the Iranians were preparing counter-attacks of their own, Ivan had not seen anything of it. The only indication that the military was doing anything was the soldiers on the perimeter and several small tanks rolling around. No doubt that they thought that Ivan wouldn’t go through with his threat. If it was anyone _other_ than Ivan, Roman would have probably thought it smart to call their bluff.

But Roman knew that Ivan was not bluffing…even if it seemed extreme. Even his own team was half-skeptical that Ivan would take such a risk to end the war quicker.

“[Anything different?]” Roman asked Maksim as he stood beside him on a sandy hill before the city. Maksim had his sniper rifle slung over his shoulder and was looking through some high-powered binoculars.

“[Negative,]” Maksim said, sweeping his enhanced gaze over the city. “[They don’t seem to be worried about anything. Or maybe they just have orders. They haven’t stopped anyone leaving.]”

Roman gave a grim nod. “[At least some are listening.]”

He could hear the frown in Maksim’s voice. “[Not enough, though.]”

“[No,]” Roman agreed, looking down to see several of their tanks moving up. “[Not nearly enough.]”

 _“[All Shieldbearer teams report to your designated transports,]”_ Ivan commanded, an unusually grim undertone in his voice. _“[Initial bombardment will commence in ten minutes.]”_

“[Our cue,]” Roman said, tapping Maksim on the shoulder. “[Let’s go.]”

Maksim tucked the binoculars away and both of them dashed through the mass of soldiers, vehicles, tanks and explosives to get to the rows of armored trucks which the Shieldbearer teams would ride in to take the city, with the heavier tanks and main bulk of soldiers following close behind. The Shieldbearer teams would eliminate and scatter what remained of any Iranian soldiers, and the main army would secure what would soon be a ruined city.

The rest of them were already by the transport, saluting as he walked up. “[Here we go,]” Elena said quietly as she looked to the city in the distance. Her helmet was removed, technically a breach of protocol in hostile territory, but considering the circumstances, Roman was willing to overlook it. Elena had clearly not been comfortable with the plan, going so far to question Ivan’s sanity, though of course not where any superiors could hear them.

She had calmed down later, but she’d been quieter than usual over the past couple days. But in the end, she was a Russian soldier, and she would do her duty, even if she didn’t like it. Roman saw Konstantin glance over to a clock set up in the camp.

“[Time’s up.]”

Not one minute later, the whirring of the gears in the machines aiming the explosives at the city began moving, until there were audible clicks heard throughout the entire arsenal. The entirety of the assembled ADVENT-Russian military watched in silence as several dozen missiles were launched with earth-shaking roars and streaked towards the city and exploded in the distance.

Cascades of fire and shrapnel soon dotted the buildings in the distance, and the next volley was already being primed, and a few seconds later, were fired into the air, and like the first round, decimated another section of the city. In the lull between volleys, the shouts and screams of the Iranians in the city became audible.

A roar overhead shook the ground and Roman saw several heavy bombers flying over and released a payload of much smaller bombs onto what untouched parts of the city still remained. Now crumbling, burning and utterly in chaos, the time to strike was now. Roman rested a hand on an Elena that was completely expressionless. “[Time to do our job.]” He said softly, then louder to the rest of them. “[Load up! Time to go!]”

 There was a chorus of affirmation as they climbed into the transport and were immediately sped towards the now-devastated city. Roman held his rifle at the ready as Ivan made their orders crystal clear. “ _[Shieldbearer teams, remove any resistance that remains. Captures are not necessary. Remove all threats in the area quickly. Good luck.]”_

Several minutes later they pulled slammed to a stop and Roman leapt out the back of the transport, his team close behind him as the other transports also drove up. More Shieldbearers and their teams poured out and began entering the city which was consumed with smoke, dust and sand that obscured their approach.

Now that they were near, the screams and cries for help in Persian were clear, and those were their target. Remove all resistance, for that was their directive. Marching through the dust they simply followed the sound of people. “[Two ahead!]” Stanislav called, and Roman raised his rifle at the sight of two soldiers trying to help one of their wounded comrades.

Perfect for an arrest, if they didn’t pose a threat. Regardless of what Ivan wanted, Roman would accept a surrender should they ask for it. But it wasn’t to be as one of the soldiers spotted them, and pulled out a pistol, shouting to his friend. Roman blew his head off with a single well-placed gauss rifle shot, while Galina and Maksim executed his friends.

“[We move inward,]” Roman ordered, activating his shield as he heard sounds of desperate Persian calls likely trying to organize what remained of their army. “[We have a lot of ground to cover.]”

But once it was done, there would be one more city that had fallen before the soldiers of ADVENT.

***

_Kochi, Japan_

Duri stood with Beatriz in one of the skyscrapers that overlooked the area where they would be stationed. This was probably the dream defense for any army. The home field advantage was emphasized here, allowing friendly snipers an almost perfect view of the immediate battlefield. Beatriz had specifically chosen a building that wasn’t the highest in the area, but more in the middle-range, and slightly closer to the action, which as she said, would “Let her take better shots at more targets.”

Right now she had her sniper rifle resting on the balcony railing, her helmet off and peering through the scope into the ocean beyond. There was a light breeze and her hair whipped in it, though it didn’t seem to bother her as she scanned the area, stone-faced. “Looking for anything in particular?” He asked after a couple moments of silence.

“Just waiting,” she answered, lowering the rifle and glancing over at him. “Not much else to do until then, right?”

Duri raised an eyebrow. “Nervous?”

Her lips twitched. “Sure, aren’t you?”

“Not as much as I probably should be,” Duri admitted, resting his forearms on the balcony. “Maybe if we had no idea what we were facing. But we do, and I know they can be killed. It helps knowing that they bleed and die just like us.”

“I’m curious,” she said. “Have you actually fought?”

“No official wars, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Duri said. “Have some combat experience, but not military. I was law enforcement before joining the military. North Korea seemed a bigger threat to me than petty crime.”

“Hmm,” she looked back over the ocean. “And what do you make of Kang?”

Duri was personally skeptical, but knew that wouldn’t be in the best interests of the team. “It’ll take some getting used to for me,” was all he said. “But if he does his job, then all the better.”

“A good attitude to have,” Beatriz nodded. “Some people can’t work with former enemies.”

“There’s a difference between enemies and those on an opposing side,” Duri shrugged. “North Korea was an enemy, but Kang was just fighting for them. He’d been brought up in service to the state because he wasn’t given a choice. If anything, I almost feel sorry for him.”

Beatriz gave an unexpected light chuckle. “He likely won’t see it that way.”

“Probably not,” Duri agreed, pushing himself up. “I’m heading down to our little tent. You still want to just watch?”

“For now,” she said, returning to looking into the horizon. “It’s quiet out here. Gives me time to think.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “Get some rest though. I don’t want you tired when the fighting starts.” She gave a brief nod and he descended the building and hitched a ride to where his tent was. Upon arriving he saw Cara and Kang were sitting at a table playing some kind of card game. Duri figured it was calm enough to unpack some of his own stuff.

He walked over to his locker and began unpacking everything properly, and storing his armor and weapons in order, as it should have been. He pulled out the picture of Sandara and affixed it to the inside of the locker door, a smile on his face as he looked upon the picture of his wife.

“Girlfriend?” A voice asked-Johan, he recognized.

“Wife,” Duri corrected, turning to him while reaching down for the two other pictures. “And this is Mari and Nabi.”

Johan whistled. “Daughters too? You are full of surprises,” he took the pictures, looking at them almost enviously.

Duri chuckled at that. “Is it that much of a surprise?”

“Eh, probably not,” Johan admitted, handing the pictures back. “I’m somewhat impressed. I’m not sure I’d want to marry in the military, let alone have kids.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Duri explained. “I was stationed in Seoul, so there wasn’t much separation. This is really the first time we’ve been separated because of deployment.”

“Are you worried?” Johan asked. “We’re not _that_ far from South Korea.”

“I know,” Duri said wearily. “It’s good motivation for me. Stop the aliens here, and then South Korea and my family are safe.”

“I think we’ll do it,” Johan said. “If that’s any consolation. I’ve been watching the videos of XCOM fighting. All the aliens really have going for them is their tech. Take that away…”

And psionics. And numbers. But Duri could appreciate the attempt. “Thanks,” he said, appraising the bearded man. “What about you, Johan? Got anyone special?”

“Sadly, no,” he chuckled, leaning against the bunk. “But I plan to one day. Wanted to wait till I was out of the military before starting anything. Seemed smarter that way.”

Duri smiled. “I can tell you from experience that love has a tendency to destroy our previous plans. But that’s a different topic, got any family?”

“Parents in Sweden, and a sister, Mona,” Johan said. “She and I were pretty close. We actually enlisted together.”

“Oh, is she in ADVENT as well?” Duri asked curiously.

“Technically, but I’m pretty sure she’s still in Sweden,” Johan said. “She’s a bit too reckless for front line fighting. Last I heard she was talking about some role in special forces. Trust me, she’s real demon when she’s angry.” He smirked. “But she’s the best sister I could hope for.”

“That’s good to hear,” Duri said, closing his locker. “For better or worse, I grew up without any siblings. Sometimes wished I had one, but then again…”

“You could have gotten a really annoying one,” Johan finished, smiling.

“Exactly,” Duri said. “So, what are they doing?”

“Cara?” Johan asked, looking behind him at the table. “Got it in her head to teach Kang Poker.” His voice lowered. “I’m pretty sure she’s setting him up to take all the money he’s stupid enough to bet. She’s pretty damn good.”

“And how would you know?” Duri asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Eh, practice,” Johan said with a smile. “I was friends with several American soldiers in Sweden and that was something they did for fun. I personally suck at it, but I know how it works.”

“More than me,” Duri conceded. “Well, I’m getting some sleep now. See you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams, Captain,” Johan nodded with a mock salute, and Duri climbed into the bunk and was asleep in mere minutes. It was a deep and dreamless sleep, undisturbed by anything…

Until the shriek of the alarm pulled him wide awake. Soldiers were shouting and the rest of his team was similarly startled awake by the commotion. _“Alien forces approaching,”_ the loudspeaker blared. _“All forces report to their designated positions.”_

His heart began beating furiously. “Armor up and get ready to move out!” Duri ordered, immediately beginning to throw his own armor on. It was showtime now. Do or die. The direction of the war would be determined by this first battle.

And he was not going to break under the pressure. Too many were counting on him to fail now.

He placed his helmet over his head and waited for the HUD to materialize. “Move out!” He ordered at the rest of his armored team. “We have some aliens to kill.”

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

They were here. It was time for the first actual battle against the Ethereal Collective and Patricia felt strangely calm. She pulled on her gauntlets and glanced down at her hands and concentrated. The air around them rippled and flashed purple and she smiled. While the time with Aegis had been short, he _had_ given her some advice in case an Ethereal did show up.

But for everything else…

Well, they stood no chance against her. Perhaps she was overly optimistic, but Patricia believed that the aliens were going to get a sharp kick in the teeth with the combined power of XCOM and ADVENT. The Goliath was online, and the other MECs were going to be wreaking even more havoc on the alien forces.

She placed her helmet over her head, waiting for it to click into place before turning to the assembled soldiers behind her. They were the best humanity had to offer, and there was no finer force she wanted to lead into battle for Earth.

“Load up!” She shouted, turning and beginning her march to the hangar. “Time to give the aliens a proper welcome to Earth!” Emboldened by the swelling anger, pride and confidence, Patricia had a good feeling about the coming battle.

All she had to do was make it a reality.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 7: ADVENT Peacekeeping Division

Subsection 7.1: Introduction

 **Purpose** : The role of the Peacekeeping Division is the enforcement of laws established by the ADVENT Executive, Judicial and Legislative branches of the government to the fullest extent. It is to enforce order and curb disobedience to the state by the rights afforded to the Peacekeepers. It is to provide protection to the citizens of ADVENT from the criminal and degenerate elements of society and stamp them out by the methods afforded in this document.

 **Subdivisions:** Within the Peacekeepers there are several subdivisions to focus on different aspects which will be elaborated on further in this section. A general overview is this:

Subdivision 1: State Officers – These officers fulfill the traditional role of law enforcement and will embark on regular patrols in designated areas and have the authority to arrest criminals they encounter and issue tickets and citations to lawbreakers. Upon the observation of suspicious activity, they are permitted to intervene with appropriate cause.

Subdivision 2: Riot Control and Pacification – These officers are utilized to put down disruptive and dangerous riots and violent outbreaks that pose a threat to ADVENT citizens. They will also be utilized to subdue the civilian populations of hostile areas to remove the threat of revolt or uprising. Riot Control officers are authorized to subdue hostile populations by what means they deem appropriate.

Subdivision 3: State Special Response (SSR) – SSR Officers act as the militant arm of the Peacekeepers, primarily used as anti-terrorism and for operations against criminal organizations, rogue government or military personnel, and gangs. SSR Officers answer directly to the Chief of the Peacekeeping Division, and have complete domestic authority in all matters related to the Peacekeepers. 

 **Brief Overview of Powers and Authority** : All officers have the right to defend themselves should their life be in danger, and this right cannot be struck down or changed. The proportional response will vary from officer to officer, but no effort shall be made to infringe upon the right of an officer to defend themselves.

This protection is afforded with the understanding that it will not be abused to exercise undue power over civilians including as such; any officer abusing their power will be stripped of all rights and charged accordingly with reparations given to the opposing party in question. Altering or destroying armor cam footage carries the same penalties, and shall not be tolerated by the Judicial Branch or Peacekeeping Division.

Officers have the expectation of complete obedience in the event of an arrest, and resisting or fleeing will result in extended sentences and that being used in courts against them. Officers do not have to give a reason for stopping a citizen, and are to be obeyed at all times. However, all civilian encounters must be documented with the Peacekeeping Division, or the penalties listed above will apply.

**SECTION 7 Index:**

7.1: Introduction

7.2: Structure

7.3: Officer Qualifications

7.4: Directive

7.5: State Officers

7.6: Riot Control and Pacification

7.7: State Special Response (SSR)

7.8: Authority and Powers

7.9: Oversight

7.10: Limitations and Regulations

 

 


	7. Battleground: Japan

 

_Kochi, Japan_

“Here they come!”

Duri wasn’t sure who called it out, but he immediately saw the glints on the horizon, sparkling metal reflecting the morning sunlight. He could see a US destroyer some ways out into the sea before Kochi, which looked almost pitiful compared to the coming swarm of alien ships.

One, two, six, ten…he swallowed as what seemed to be an uncountable swarm drew closer. “In positions!” He ordered his team, as they knelt behind established metal barricades, similar to the other twenty teams that had set up position in front of where they expected the aliens to land. There was just enough space to bait them into coming, but with almost zero cover.

Would they take the bait?

Well, if not, there were fortunately other backups. But it was becoming quickly apparent that this was not going to be a battle they might even have a chance of winning. The UFOs were much clearer now, and there was a tangible _thrum_ in the air from what he could only assume was from the alien engines.

_“ADVENT Command to Kochi Defense, be prepared for missile defense systems and naval warships to begin deterrent measures. Be prepared for insertion.”_

“Copy,” Duri acknowledged into his helmet, and he heard the echo from the rest of the ADVENT Squad Officers. “Beatriz, you still have a clear shot? See anything?”

 _“Clear on my end, Officer.”_ A pause. _“The ships are big. Very big.”_

Duri glanced up as a squad of four fighter jets roared overhead towards the oncoming fleet, and were soon accompanied by several dozen more squads. “Calvary’s here,” Cara chuckled, lifting her autorifle in preparation for the attack. “Good luck to them.”

And that was when the battle began.

The air around the fleet began to be filled with missiles, gunfire and flak from the ADVENT fighters, splitting the unified alien coalition. Circular UFOs rose from behind the transports and began returning green plasma fire at the fighters, blasting several out of the sky instantly. All the fighters broke off into evasive maneuvers and engaged in a true dogfight with the alien interceptors.

The Destroyer floating in the bay in front of the city began firing, as did the missile systems installed around the city, shaking the ground from the volume of projectiles launched into the air. The leading transport was hit with a devastating barrage that ripped several gaping holes in its sides, and a second barrage made it stutter in the air, and begin a slow collapse downwards.

The soldiers cheered as it crashed into the ocean in front of the destroyer. One problem dealt with. The only problem was that it was only the leading transport; there were ten more following and there wasn’t nearly enough concentrated fire to take all of them down. “Weapons ready!” Duri roared as the rectangular transports hovered over the water just in front of the tiny beach.

He did a quick count, and the sounds of the battle waged elsewhere faded as he concentrated. Four transports so far, carrying God knew what. With a hiss they opened and out charged a mix of the green-armored Mutons and Vitakarian soldiers. Borelians and Vitakarians if he identified them correctly, clad in silver armor and fully covered for war. These must have been their regular infantry, since he was pretty sure they had never been encountered by XCOM before.

“Open fire!” He ordered, and the battlefield was filled with the sound of hundreds of rifles, pistols, shotguns and autorifles discharging at the exposed alien horde. The mutons didn’t even try to hide, but stood in the open and returned green plasma fire at the entrenched ADVENT soldiers. Several dozen of the hulking aliens were cut down in the initial barrage, as were many of the Vitakarian soldiers, but others were only grazed.

“They’re establishing cover!” Kang warned as he shot one of the two Borelians attempting to stab two connected pieces of metal into the ground. Duri soon saw what those did, as several teams managed to establish them successfully, and between the two pieces of metal projected what was likely a red energy shield of some kind.

He shot at one Borelian who was hiding behind it and noted that the shield _did_ seem to stop gauss weaponry. Good to know. “Cara! Suppress the team moving up!”

“Acknowledged!” She shouted and turned her autorifle on the team of three Vitakarians charging forward, presumably to establish some kind of defensive perimeter.

 _“Heads up towards the back,”_ Beatriz warned as he fired at a muton shooting at another ADVENT soldier. The alien screamed as his shots connected, and fell to the ground dead a few seconds later. _“Got some new ones coming.”_

Duri focused at the transport and saw a team of a dozen of what appeared to be…Andromedons charging out. But these weren’t the green-helmeted ones. These Andromedons had red-tinted helmets even though their hulking suits were largely the same. But they also seemed to have some kind of drone flying over each one of them, with each drone seemingly being unique.

“VIPs,” Duri called. “Beatriz?”

_“Targeting.”_

They were definitely the most important ones for the aliens, if the reactions were anything to go by. The remaining mutons immediately went to form something of a guard around them, and he personally saw the strange Andromedons ordering and pointing the remaining alien forces. Unlike even the Mutons, these aliens seemed unperturbed by the chaos and danger around them, shrugging off direct hits and focusing intently on the shield spikes planted by the Vitakarian soldiers.

“What are they doing?” Johan called as he shot a Borelian to death, and began shooting at a Muton on one knee that was trying to fire back.

“I don’t-“ Duri began, when the beach littered with alien blood and corpses seemed to _flash_ and all the energy spikes planted suddenly interconnected into walls of light that extended above the Andromedons themselves, effectively protecting the entire beachhead in an imperfect semi-circle. _Fuck_. Those Vitakara weren’t planning them randomly, this was _planned_.

At least the targets were clear. “Shoot the poles!” Duri ordered.

“At least they can’t do anything either,” Cara commented as she fired on a section of the red shield wall.

Maybe not, but they were definitely planning something. The red-helmeted Andromedons were patrolling the shield with a mechanical precision that worried him. From the transports came the Drones that XCOM had fought, likely for the purpose of repairing the shield.

“Clever,” he muttered to himself. “ADVENT Command, this is Officer Eun-Jung of Squad Eagle-224, requesting artillery strike at the following coordinates. Copy?”

A few seconds of delay, and then. _“Copy, Officer. Standing by to receive coordinates_.”

“Provide covering fire!” He ordered, risking a stand and switched on the marker built into his armor. A weak laser pointer shot from the marker in his wrist, and he aimed it at the center of the shield which was being pounded with barrages of gauss fire. _“Target locked_ ,” a voice confirmed. _“Stand by.”_

“Incoming!” Duri yelled, as a few seconds later shells streaked over his head and lit up the beach in a series of massive explosions. As the smoke cleared, Duri noted that there were definitely gaps in the shield, and some of the poles were sparking, but it wasn’t nearly enough, and now the aliens were preparing to retaliate in full force.

Out came flying creatures from the transports, Floaters he believed, but these weren’t the horrific blends of flesh and metal XCOM had described. These were flying units clad in gray armor and carrying plasma cannons. They shot above the barrier and towards the line of ADVENT soldiers and began wreaking havoc.

It was an aerial threat fast enough to fully occupy them, and they were too slow. Soldiers screamed as plasma melted their armor from shots from the evasive Floaters. Duri shot one out of the sky, and another fell from Cara’s concentrated burst, but two more swept around their flanks and wiped out an entire team with a single well-thrown plasma grenade. They were both taken out by ADVENT snipers, but the damage was being done even as the Floaters were slowly brought under control.

Except they weren’t. Not really. It was after he’d shot one when he realized how little they were actually doing. He must have shot it somewhere vital, since it was leaking a yellow fluid and it infuriatingly managed to slip past his shots and retreat beyond the red barricade. He almost moved to another of the two dozen flying targets, when he noticed one of the Andromedons heading towards it, and appearing to _repair_ it.

He watched in morbid fascination as the alien seemed to shudder in pain and throw its head back in a scream as the Andromedon and its drone worked on it, sparks flying off the body, but then a minute later the Floater was roaring back into the fight, nearly as good as new. “The Andromedons are repairing them!” He warned to all the squads. “You can’t just wound them!”

This was not good.

Two Floaters streaked towards him, firing wildly as they attempted a strafing run. Kang risked standing, lining up a shot, and hitting one of them in the head and it crashed to the ground a few meters from where he was standing. One more shot finished it. The other was thrown off course by another shot from somewhere else, and Johan took advantage and blasted the Floater in the chest several times, apparently hitting one of its engines, then watched it spiral into a building with a small explosion.

“Beatriz! Can you get a shot on the Andromedons?”

 _“Negative!”_ She answered, voice strained. _“They’re smart. Hiding behind the shield. I can’t damage it either since they fix it almost immediately!”_

“What’s the plan, boss?” Kang demanded as they weathered another strafing run by another Floater. “Those things will kill a lot more of us than we them. And those other ones aren’t going anywhere.”

“I know!” He scowled, trying to think. He took several shots that missed against another Floater trying to outflank a separate squad. It fortunately couldn’t kill any of them, and was shot a few times, but it simply flew away and back behind the barricade where it was fixed up by the Andromedons and drones.

The other aliens were standing in an orderly line behind the barricade, watching expressionlessly as the Floaters slowly whittled the ADVENT army down to nothing. “Beatriz! How many Floaters are left?”

 _“Uh, hold on_ ,” he heard a shot. _“Eight? Ten? Something like that. We’re running out of people, Officer.”_

“Ok, new orders,” Duri said. “Only target the ones who are wounded and heading back for repairs and kill them. Suggest that to the other snipers.”

 _“Will do_.”

“Kang, Johan, pick a Floater and don’t stop shooting it till its dead,” Duri continued. “Cara, target one of the shield nodes. Take at least one Andromedon away from repairing Floaters.”

“Acknowledged,” she yelled, and began shooting the shield. He raised his rifle towards a Floater that had just tossed a grenade at a duo of soldiers which killed them in the ensuing explosion, and fired his weapon, hitting the Floater square in the back. It didn’t damage the engine, clearly, but it was damaged apparently bad enough to send it flying back beyond the shield. _Come on, Beatriz…_

Then it blew apart with a miniature explosion as one sniper must have shot the engine. The corpse slammed into the shield and fell outside it as a charred wreck. “Good shot!” Duri called to whoever was listening. To his dismay, he saw a new wave of Mutons coming out of the transports, which meant that the aliens knew their borrowed time was up and they were preparing a new offensive.

“ADVENT Command, we’re under heavy attack from Floater units and the aliens are preparing for a massive strike. Requesting reinforcements.”

_“Request received, stand by.”_

“Got it!” Kang whooped as another Floater crashed into the yellow-soaked sand. “Johan, focus on the one to the left!”

“I see it!” Johan confirmed. “Stay still, you bastard…”

 _“Squad Officer Eun-Jung of Kochi Defense, this is Gray Sky,”_ a new voice said. _“Request understood and reinforcements are on the way. Hope you have enough room.”_

Duri frowned, not sure what that meant. Whatever, it was good. Was that an XCOM designation? He supposed it didn’t matter as long as they were coming. “Glad to hear it,” he glanced at the Muton and Vitakara army preparing to attack, even as the remaining Floaters were eradicated. “But please make it fast.”

With that, he aimed his rifle at another Floater, and continued contributing to the defense of Japan, one pounding gauss shot at a time.

***

_Skyranger, En route to Japan_

Nuan stopped herself from unconsciously tapping her gloved hand on her knee. Whatever reservations that had flown through her mind about XCOM, the people she was with, and pretty much everything else had been pushed aside as the very real realization that _she might die_ set upon her as they flew towards a battle that was said to cover the entire country.

She was very good at her job, no doubt about that. But it was one thing to work with a special team in a relatively safe environment, and another to be on the front lines, plasma and bullets flying over your head. Nuan was extremely grateful for the helmet that covered her face, since anyone who looked at her would be able to very clearly see that she was _scared_.

It shouldn’t have been like this. Why was she this affected? It wasn’t like she’d never been shot at before.

 _This is different_ , a voice told her. An annoying, persistent voice that spoke uncomfortable truths. _This is war of thousands, and you are only one._

She looked around the silent skyranger, wondering if she was remotely alone. All the rest had their faces obscured, so they were as expressionless as she was. But she knew they were veterans. They had seen the aliens. Iosif, Gyeong, Seok, the EXALT woman Zara, even the traitor Shun had fought before, and if there was anything Inori was feeling right now, it was probably _anger_. She’d expect nothing less from someone defending his homeland.

Only Anna was as much of a rookie as her, and even she had the calm demeanor of one accustomed to battle. _Don’t panic and you’ll live_. Someone had told her that, and she hoped it would be enough. She was here to support XCOM and ADVENT, not be a goddamn hero.

 _Don’t throw your life away for nothing. Don’t take stupid risks. Use your brain_.

Easy to repeat now, but would it hold up when they landed? Was she strong enough?

She didn’t know, and that scared her.

No matter what she thought of these people personally, she was going to be trusting them with her life, and conversely, theirs with her. She didn’t _want_ to, of course, but she would rather put her life in the hands of foreigners than try to survive on her own. It didn’t work that way, but she couldn’t shake the suspicions she had about them, a paranoia instilled by years of service that she couldn’t forget overnight.

But she had no choice now. She had to turn her back to the assassins and trust them…and hope she survived the fallout.

She flinched as a hand rested on her arm, and looked right to see it belonged to Iosif. “Don’t worry,” he told her quietly. “You’re going to be fine. Just follow my orders and do your job.”

How did he...ah, she almost forgot he was a psion. He didn’t have that odd presence that Patricia had. With her you _knew_ something was off about her the moment she entered a room. Iosif was much more subdued. It seemed he kept his talents to himself, which she could respect. But one constant with all psions is that they could sense emotions and read minds.

She flushed, not sure how she was comfortable she was with him reading her. But maybe it couldn’t be helped. Maybe she was screaming emotionally. But she was almost grateful, and gave him a small nod in return as she consciously tried to lower her heartbeat to a reasonable level. And she privately hoped he’d keep his hand on her. She needed some human contact from someone who wasn’t as worried as her.

 _“This is the Commander to all teams,”_ the Commander said. _“The aliens have engaged ADVENT forces in Japan, as expected. We are deploying teams where the fighting is worst, though be prepared to redeploy if necessary. All teams report in.”_

 _“Angel Team, reporting in,”_ Patricia said.

 _“Astro Team, reporting in,”_ Carmelita confirmed.

“Oriole Team, reporting in,” Iosif finished.

 _“Good luck, teams,”_ the Commander said. _“The outcome today will set the tone for this war. Today XCOM shows the world that the aliens can be defeated and sent back to the stars. Your pilots have received directions. Vigilo Confido, Commander out.”_

 _“This is Lightning Sky to Oriole Team,”_ a smooth British voice said over the comm. A new pilot if Nuan had understood correctly. _“You are being deployed near Shibetsu, at the north end of the island, where the aliens have taken the beachhead and are moving inland. ADVENT has set up strong defenses close by, but require heavy support.”_

“And information?” Iosif asked, flexing his free hand. “Enemy composition? Losses?”

 _“Stand by,”_ a pause and the pilot continued after a few moments. _“Appears to be mostly Andromedon, a new kind we haven’t seen before. Not many details. Drones have also been spotted and some…mechanical thing. No details. ADVENT is holding steady, but are taken slow losses where it seems the Andromedons haven’t suffered a single one.”_

“How?” Inori declared, outrage clear in his voice. “They lack the means to kill _one?”_

 _“Unknown and unconfirmed,”_ Lightning Sky answered calmly, as he physically lowered the altitude of the skyranger. _“Regardless, it seems Andromedons are hard to kill.”_

“Yep, you can say that,” Shun muttered. “It took twenty-some soldiers to kill four when the Citadel was attacked. I can only imagine an entire army.”

 _“Good news is that there are several Japanese and American warships shelling the beach,”_ Lightning Sky informed. _“You’ll get some reprieve there, but limited air support, unfortunately.”_

“Noted,” Iosif said coolly. “Stick to the plan, soldiers. We’re entering a warzone. Stay _close_ to me until we can safely get to cover. I cannot protect all of you at once. Understood?”

 _“Yes, Overseer!”_ They shouted.

 _“Prepare for insertion, Oriole Team,”_ Lightning Sky said, and the skyranger lights flashed to a solid red. Regrettably, Iosif took his hand off her arm and she was alone inside the shell of her armor. But she stayed very close to Iosif, beside him at the front as the skyranger shook when it lowered. She didn’t know who was behind her, but it wasn’t important.

Swallowing, she tightened her grip on her pulse rifle. “You can do it,” Iosif said quietly, not looking down to her. “Just stay close.”

Then that was what she would do. Stay close to the psion who would protect them. Even if he was a Russian.

 _“We are coming in for a landing,”_ Lightning Sky warned as there was a sudden drop, then a shudder as the aircraft touched down. _“Godspeed, soldiers.”_

“Same to you,” Iosif said with a smile in his voice. “Don’t get shot down. We need a ride home.”

_“The damn aliens aren’t scratching the paint on this. But do kill as many as possible. Makes my job easier.”_

Iosif gave a low chuckle at that, then raised his left hand, clenched in a tight fist and Nuan watched, mesmerized as a purple ball of energy manifested itself around the fist, then as he unclenched it, grew larger to expand until they were encased in a shimmering purple sphere, Iosif at the center. “Again,” Iosif rumbled, his voice layered from the psionic power. “Stay close to me.”

And with that, the ramp lowered and the sounds of battle finally reached her ears.

She swallowed once more. Do or die.

***

 _Near Shibetsu_ , _Japan_

A town engulfed in flames was the first thing that Nuan saw, the second was the plasma beams in the air and the army in the distance. “Forward!” Iosif ordered and they charged out into the grasslands peppered by metal barricades with ADVENT soldiers fighting back against the encroaching aliens.

Behind them were established missile and artillery systems, and Nuan counted….hundreds of ADVENT soldiers, spread across the battlefield already marred with metal, bodies and blood. A green beam hit Iosif’s shield, but dissipated instantly and he kept going with no recognition of what had just happened.

“Dropping the shield,” he said. “Ten seconds, get to cover while we figure out what’s going on.”

“Understood!” Zara stated, already firing her plasma rifle into the aliens in the distance. Iosif nodded, and lowered his hand. He must have been also blocking out some of the sounds, since everything Nuan heard was much more intense. The artillery shook the ground, the air was filled with the sounds of gauss rounds being fired and plasma beams discharging.

_Stay close to me._

So she stayed by Iosif as he pushed past the ADVENT lines who were continuously moving and reorganizing depending on where the attack was worst. “Situation report!” He demanded from an Officer organizing an ADVENT squad to target a group of Andromedons in the distance.

The Officer snapped to attention as she saw they were XCOM. “Not good, sir. We’ve lost the city decisively. We didn’t expect to get hit so hard here…and these aliens…they don’t die. We wound them and they keep coming back. We can’t replace our own soldiers, but they seem to be doing it.”

Nuan surveyed the battlefield briefly as the Officer gave more details. A very open area, with some trees providing sparse cover between the ADVENT defenses and the city itself. No one was risking going beyond the safety, creating a no-man’s land that was almost certain death for anyone who tried to cross it.

The aliens also appeared to have locked their side down completely. They were definitely Andromedons, green-tinted helmets and all. Above them were drones, but aside from that, she spotted no other alien forces. She pursed her lips as she saw them taking turns firing at the ADVENT soldiers. Their rifles were different, or at least fired differently. Instead of bursts, it was a straight lance of plasma similar to a laser. Maybe more accurate and powerful, but likely not as efficient.

Nuan raised her rifle and started firing, using a concentrated beam to focus her shot. An Andromedon hiding behind a shed was skirted by her beam, and stepped out, arm smoking and leaking some kind of yellow gas. Interestingly, it immediately pointed her direction while she reloaded and…ran away?

A few seconds later two more Andromedons rushed over to where the first one had been and bean firing her direction. She ducked under the metal barricade as twin beams of plasma shot over her head. “You got their attention,” Zara commented as she slid into position near her, and began firing on the two Andromedons. “Anything interesting?”

“We’re getting shot at!” Nuan spit out, as she pulled out a smoke grenade, wondering if she should use it now. “What do you _think_ is interesting?”

“Hold that thought,” Zara said, standing again. “Anna! Can I get some fire on those two?”

“I can’t hit anything from here!” She called back, standing regardless. “But I’ll do my best!”

The Andromedons fell into cover as the shed was almost torn to shreds from Anna’s gauss heavy autorifle. Nothing hit, of course, but it allowed Zara to set up a carefully aimed shot. “Stay still…” she murmured, just before the fiery laser spat from her own rifle and hit one Andromedon straight in the chest.

It immediately jumped back, but the damage was done, and it was leaking some black fluid, yellow gas and sparking from the hole in the suit. But similar to the last one, it ran off and the other Andromedon focused directly on Zara, forcing her back into cover.

“They have something repairing them,” Zara warned as more plasma beams flew overhead. “Each time they get hit, they run away and get help. No wonder they aren’t being killed.”

“ _I_ could have guessed that,” Nuan hissed. “But we’re too far away. Nothing is going to change until we gain some ground.”

“Nuan! Gyeong! Anna! Come with me!” Shun ordered, rushing up. “Iosif needs us.”

Nuan nodded and with Anna, dashed after Shun towards near the center of the ADVENT line where Iosif was standing with a team of ADVENT engineers and soldiers. “We’re going to advance forward,” Iosif stated, pointing to a distance about ten meters beyond the current wall. “Not much, but we need to do something otherwise we’re just going to get picked off one by one.”

“We protect them while they establish the defenses?” Nuan asked to confirm.

“Correct,” he revealed, shifting as a plasma bolt shot uncomfortably close over their heads. “I’ll provide protection, and you’ll need to provide covering fire as well.”

Nuan swallowed. “Understood.”

“I won’t be able to protect you forever,” Iosif warned the ADVENT soldiers and engineers. “Work fast.”

“Yes, sir!”

Iosif raised a fist and repeated the gesture he’d done earlier, and the entire group was soon encased in a purple sphere. “Move out!” He ordered, and they stepped into the exposed battlefield. Nuan took out a smoke grenade and popped it.

“Covering smoke!” She called and ignored her reservations and jumped to the front of the sphere, letting the smoke drift back and theoretically make it difficult for the Andromedons to get a clear shot. With one hand holding the smoke grenade, she used the other to pull out her gauss pistol and took some shots at the Andromedons.

Their move forward had attracted all of their attention, and Nuan couldn’t help but flinch as plasma pounded Iosif’s shield and she saw several shots that would have probably killed her outright. But luckily the sheer amount of firepower they were shooting out in return, particularly from Anna and a couple ADVENT gunners, was forcing them into their cover, with the rest of them adding what they could.

“Establish here!” Iosif called, falling to one knee seemingly to help him concentrate. The ADVENT engineers carrying the materials immediately began sticking them into the ground and creating a barricade. She would need to look over the schematics so she wouldn’t feel quite so useless next time. But now she could do her best to keep everyone alive.

The smoke grenade she’d been carrying was out and the cloud was dissipating, so she pulled out another one and planted it firmly in the ground and let the cloud cover them all, at the same time pulling out one of her flashbang grenades and throwing it towards a trio of Andromedons huddled behind a crashed car.

Unfortunately, it seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

As she also fell to one knee, shooting several beams towards other Andromedons, it made sense in retrospect. Why _would_ aliens encased in suits be vulnerable to such a tool? They would have been idiots to not think that was a possibility. The ADVENT engineers, who were being helped by Gyeong, had finished constructing the barricade and Nuan quickly positioned herself behind it, grinning as she felt the firm metal at her back.

Alright. Alright. She was still alive.

“Now we actually need to kill some of them,” Iosif said, letting the shield collapse as they moved into actual cover. His voice was noticeably more strained compared to earlier. “Seok, you see that car?”

 _“I do,”_ came the voice of their rocketeer. _“Is it volatile?”_

“Appears so,” Iosif muttered, risking a glance out. “Let’s see how they like rockets. Everyone, pin the Andromedons behind that car down!”

Instantly that area was peppered with gauss and laser bursts, which had the desired effect of forcing the trio of aliens hiding there to stay put. Only just a few seconds… _”Rocket away!”_

Nuan saw the projectile streak and slam into the car and it blew up with a massive explosion that blew one of the Andromedons in half, the other vaporized completely and the one who’d sensed the danger was blown back, the helmet completely destroyed.

And then it came back to life. “Problem!” Nuan called as the Andromedon suit shakily stood back up, the alien corpse within hanging out of the suit like a half-finished birth. It was scorched, leaking fluids and sparking like it would explode, but instead it tried to fire the ruined plasma weapon, which amusingly exploded in its hand, shredding the arm and a good portion of the upper suit itself.

“Shoot it before it runs away!” Anna called and Nuan fired her rifle at the legs of the suit. Luckily it was much slower without a conscious pilot and she cut through most of it before it began stumbling away, and to her immense satisfaction, it fell over and still tried crawling away. She pulled out a frag grenade, judged the distance, and threw it towards the ruined suit.

It landed a half-meter away and blew up and it stopped crawling. Nuan took a breath. One down…she glanced at the rest of the battlefield with a sinking heart. At least several hundred to go. “Seems they like explosives,” Anna called. “Iosif?”

“Agreed,” he nodded. “ADVENT Command, we need to request a bombing run on Shibetsu, _now_!”

 _“I’ve got another shot lined up,”_ Seok informed. _“There’s a couple hiding behind some of those trees.”_

“Take them out,” Iosif ordered, standing. “Officer! We need to make a stronger defense. Get some more engineers for round two. XCOM soldiers, with me!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They called and Nuan prepared herself for another harrowing run through the Andromedon gauntlet. She hoped Iosif wasn’t stretching himself too thin this early. He couldn’t do this forever. But until then, she’d do her best to keep him, and herself, alive. While they waited for the ADVENT engineers to prepare, Nuan and the rest of XCOM and ADVENT held down the line of Andromedons, doing little to definitively kill them, but preventing their advance.

Nuan hoped that bombing run hit soon and took out whatever that making sure these Andromedons didn’t die.

***

_Shizuoka, Japan_

“The aliens are moving into the city, and ADVENT is struggling to contain them,” Carmelita updated as the skyranger swept down and landed with sharp jolt. “Goal is simple: Kill as many as possible. Lesedi, get into some elevated position; Pelin, Fakhr, provide support to the ADVENT soldiers, keep that rocket ready.”

“Yes, sir!”

Carmelita turned to face them as the ramp opened up behind her and jabbed a finger at him and the other designated scout. “Jamali, Sai-Kee, split up and report on what you see past the main fighting! Everyone else with me.”

An explosion rattled the ground, and with a swift turn away, Carmelita led the charge out into the now-ravaged city. Jamali saw the fighting was largely concentrated in the main city highway, with both armies taking cover behind dividers, vehicles and buildings, of which there were numerous. ADVENT soldiers were shouting at each other as they held a thin line, while the aliens relentlessly charged their position.

“Mutons!” Iida called, already aiming and firing at the squad of green-armored aliens who were turning over trucks for better cover. Green plasma fire flew past his head uncomfortably close as he slid into cover and tried to get a clean shot. There were _so many_ targets it was difficult to concentrate on just one.

Jamali heard some clanking behind him, and looked back and saw to his relief one of the Marauder MECs also charging into the fray. “We push now!” Carmelita ordered, grasping her alloy cannon. “Matthew! Amahle! With me, everyone else provide covering fire then continue your assignments!”

To the chorus of affirmatives, Jamali watched as Carmelita made an inhuman _leap_ of at least fifteen meters to land in front of a clearly surprised muton just before she turned its face into mush and repeated the same thing with the two other Mutons right next to it. Jamali also noted there were several Vitakara soldiers in the mix as well, clearly also surprised by the sudden aggression as they turned to focus on the temporarily vulnerable human.

All a distraction as Amahle also charged to the center of the fray, wrists already leaking flames which soon turned into torrents as she turned her massive flamethrowers to the front line. The aliens screamed in pain as they were engulfed in blue and orange flames, too distracted to return fire or flee as the rest of the XCOM and ADVENT soldiers were firing relentlessly.

“Smoke at my position!” Carmelita called as she methodically executed Muton after Muton, ducking, leaping and decimating the brutish aliens at close range to which there was little they could do. The hulking aliens were just not fast enough against the augmented woman.

“Headed your way!” Pelin called, and tossed the canister to roughly her position and within half a minute nearly half the street was engulfed in a pink smoke.

“Move forward!” One of the ADVENT Officers called and with a cheer the black-armored soldiers with XCOM moved closer towards where the two augmented soldiers were destroying the alien line.

“Reinforcements incoming!” Fakhr called, falling to one knee and pulling out her rocket launcher. Jamali looked to where she’d indicated and saw a group of a half-dozen Vitakara running up…Borelian and Vitakarian to be specific.

“Hold the rocket, Fakhr!” Matthew called, standing out in the open and lifting a hand. “Save it for when we need it. Take your shots.” The psion was suddenly sheathed in a shimmering purple energy as twisted his hand palm up, and lifted. The group of Vitakara was suddenly suspended in the air, arms flailing as they fruitlessly tried to escape.

Jamali executed one with a headshot, and Sai-Kee, Iida and Lesedi each killed one as well. To their credit, the initial survivors adapted quickly, and began aiming despite being so exposed. The dead alien suddenly fell to the ground and Matthew clenched his fist and the last two began contorting; bones breaking into unrecognizable shapes and the skeletons collapsing in on themselves and once they were a misshapen mockery of a humanoid figure, Matthew thrust his hand down and the corpses slammed into the unrelenting concrete with a splat.

The power faded around Matthew and he shook his hand as if it was asleep. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said, satisfaction clear in his voice. Jamali did recall that the aliens had kept him as a prisoner and experimented on him for months, so it wasn’t surprising he’d go out of his way to brutalize them.

It certainly seemed to be having an effect. The aliens were in a full retreat, even as Carmelita and Amahle continued annihilating the stragglers, with Matthew lifting several up into the air at a time before either crushing them, or leaving them hanging to be shot. The ADVENT soldiers were glancing at the psion in awe as he strode into the fray along with the two leading women, and oddly enough, it was the psion that the aliens seemed to be most afraid of.

No wonder EXALT had been so keen to create a psion for themselves if this was what one could do. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to it, but all displays he’d seen had been mostly…telepathic. This was a far more visceral display.

Carmelita raised a fist as the few surviving aliens ran off. “Hold, we shouldn’t advance too far, else we’ll be flanked. Jamali, head to the next street and help them there.”

Jamali nodded. “Understood, I’ll report as soon as possible.”

She nodded and he dashed off as she turned to the rest of the soldiers, and ADVENT began also moving their line forward while he headed straight towards the sounds of fighting. Although halfway there, he skidded to a stop. _Think_. It wouldn’t do any good to get there as quickly as possible and be killed within seconds because he hadn’t seen a stray alien.

So he continued at a much more careful jog, pulse rifle raised as he mentally took stock of what he had. One frag, one flash-bang and one smoke. A limited supply, but he could make it work. The fighting was definitely much closer now, and he came to a building corner and carefully peeked around it.

Right in front of him was a much smaller firefight between a line of ADVENT soldiers and a small army of Mutons who were pushing against them. He did a quick count. Sixteen regular ones, and a larger one in black armor of some kind. He was sure he’d never seen it before. Unlike the others, it seemed to be a commander, pointing and giving orders, and more noticeably, its face was armored, the helmeted eyes emitting a glowing purple light. In its hands it also held what looked like a plasma cannon of some kind.

Several other Muton soldiers had died, but there were clearly a lot more dead ADVENT than alien, punctuated by the sight of a several ADVENT soldiers getting caught with a thrown plasma grenade, killing one instantly while mortally wounding the other, who was dragged away by medics and replaced by more ADVENT soldiers.

“Overseer, got a potential situation here,” he informed Carmelita, making sure that no aliens were coming up to surprise him. “ADVENT positions are under heavy fire from an all-Muton team. This one seems to have a clear commander. Helmeted, black armor, plasma cannon. Copy?”

 _“Understood,”_ she answered, more sounds of combat coming from her end. _“Engage at will, take out the leader if possible. I’ll send Iida and Sai-Kee_ _your way_.”

“Understood, Overseer,” he finished, and briefly thought about the best way to approach this. He couldn’t spend much time, so he needed to create a distraction in a way that _didn’t_ bring all of them down at him at once. He was behind all of them, so it would put them in a difficult position initially, but they would adapt and he needed to kill as many as possible in that brief time.

But he had an idea. Risky, but it would give him the most time. First he raised his rifle at one of the regular Mutons and fired, then immediately threw his smoke grenade to the other side of the street, swung his weapon to the next muton and also shot it in the head. As that body fell to the ground, he threw the flash-bang towards a knot of four who howled and clutched their ears and shook their heads as they puzzled together where it was coming from.

He briefly refrained from firing, letting them draw their own conclusions. The Muton leader swung his cannon around, accurately noted the smoke and logically assumed that was where he was. He shouted something in their guttural language and began firing at the smoke, two more coming to help him. The rest returned to firing at ADVENT.

Jamali grinned. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was working. He lined up a shot on the Muton closest to him and fired. He moved the sights a few inches and shot the one next to it. All of them were stupidly lined up in a row, making it trivial to kill almost five within the same amount of seconds. These pulse weapons were insanely accurate.

And _then_ they learned that the soldier wasn’t in the smoke, but on the opposite side. The Muton leader swung his cannon to his position and suddenly he was under a hail of green plasma. Now _this_ was a problem. Jamali quickly took the opportunity to reload, acutely aware that he was extremely vulnerable to a grenade, and looked around.

He smashed the window next to him and leapt into the building, then rushed to the window facing the battle. Opportunity to kill another one. He fell to one knee, aimed, and shot an unprotected Muton with a clean beam of fire. The building shook as the corner where he’d taken cover earlier was vaporized by a plasma grenade.

Jamali dashed out of sight again, taking refuge in the middle of the wall where he couldn’t be seen. Ever so quietly, he inched towards the edge of the vaporized corner and pulled out his frag grenade. With any luck the Muton leader would either think he was dead, or at least moved from this spot.

He made sure a Muton wasn’t going to surprise him from the window he’d just been at, and peeked around the charred brick. The Muton leader was still scanning the area, definitely thinking he was still alive, but the other two Mutons were back to taking cover behind a car. Perfect.

Jamali pulled out the pin and tossed the grenade not _at_ the duo, but right under the car which he noted was leaking gas. The grenade alone might not have killed them…but an exploding vehicle certainly did. The car blew with a massive fireball, and the shrapnel tore the faces of the aliens apart, likely killing them instantly. It also got the attention of the leader, who turned to face the human who’d single-handedly decimated his fighting force.

But that was fine. As long as the alien wasn’t firing at ADVENT, he was doing his job. All Jamali needed to do was wait for his reinforcements. But as the wall he was hiding behind began cracking, he hoped they would arrive sooner than later. He was going to run out of tricks eventually.

***

_Shirako, Japan_

Pain. Terror. Resilience. Anger. Hope.

Patricia sensed all these as the skyranger sped towards Shirako, where the aliens were taking a firm beachhead, apparently almost to the point of breaking the ADVENT lines, and without help they would be forced to consolidate and retreat. But it wasn’t an impossible task. Aliens had minds too, they were just…different. Just as malleable and vulnerable to suggestion.

Images from thousands of soldiers and alien beneath her appeared and vanished from her mind in milliseconds, individual sounds, voices and thoughts came together in an unintelligible whole, a broken symphony of minds that she had no idea of how to separate.

So she ignored them and let everything fade except for the men and women around her. Her breathing steadied and eyes closed. All of them were ready and prepared, focused and ready, thanks in part to her. She had unconsciously fallen into her battle trance during the flight over. All of them knew what to do and what their plan was, there was little need for her to repeat anything.

They were of one connected mind. The path ahead was clear.

Patricia didn’t bother to carry her heavy autorifle strapped to her armor. It was no longer her strength, nor main weapon any longer. She wondered if that was also why Ethereals didn’t seem to like using weapons. It was almost more of a distraction than anything else, since she was often using her hands for something else.

The skyranger shuddered as it landed and the muffled sounds of combat reached her through her heightened state, screams, gunfire and the cascade of _emotions_ found on the battlefield. The instant the ramp descended, all of them charged out in perfect harmony and immediately began working as one unit.

Their sniper, Nati, immediately fell to one knee and began sniping from afar, picking off enemies with an enhanced focus that could only be induced by a psion. Blake and Analyn rushed to groups of wounded ADVENT soldiers and began fixing them up with a speed that was more than simply years of practice.

Their Engineer, Fiona, tossed out several smoke grenades in quick succession to ADVENT positions under immediate threat of collapse and then slid into cover, and began shooting at the closest aliens in sight. Charlotte followed suit, and readied her rocket launcher for the right moment to strike.

And Patricia herself stood for a few seconds, flanked by Allison and Creed who also began firing shots into the alien army. ADVENT had been pushed into the city limits, with the aliens in full control of the beach. The aliens had established plenty of cover and protection beyond the beach, although from the piles of corpses, ADVENT had made them pay dearly for taking even this much ground.

Luckily ADVENT had also set up plenty of defenses in the city perimeter itself, with snipers, missile launchers and artillery positioned in places of elevation that were doing the most to keep the aliens in their position. But if their line was broken…there wasn’t much left. Beyond the lines of human and aliens were the alien transports themselves, dozens of them lining the beach, with more possibly coming in.

UFOs streaked across the skies, pursued by US and Japanese fighters, while others attempted strafing runs and bombed entire buildings apart, although they seemed to be keen on avoiding the anti-air defenses ADVENT had established, and out in the distance, Patricia did see several US Destroyers, although they didn’t seem to be doing anything.

A plasma burst flew into a building near her and she frowned, figuring it was time to focus on the threat at hand. Drones. Mechtoids. And beyond them, she could sense…Sectoids, and their pet chryssalids. Why had they not used them yet…unless…

The psionic energy swirled around her as she extended an arm aimlessly ahead, and focused on the most prominent pool of psionic power and _pushed_. The alien had clearly not expected an attack and its paltry defenses were crushed and she took control. Her familiarity with the Sectoid mind proved invaluable as she quickly found what she was looking for.

“They want to save the chryssalids for hunting,” she said, startling some nearby ADVENT soldiers with her psionically altered voice. “I will deal with them. Move up.”

Creed and Allison charged forward, dodging the plasma bolts flying their way. Patricia stood in the center, watching the mix of Sectoids, Mechtoids and drones take turns to shoot at ADVENT soldiers, and she risked closing her eyes to focus on the nearest alien minds. It was time to make her presence known.

“ADVENT Tokyo Command, this is XCOM Overseer Patricia Trask,” she said, concentrating to spread her reach as far as possible.

 _“Glad to have you, Overseer,”_ came a voice. _“We could use it. Do you need anything?”_

“Order all soldiers near Shirako to focus only on the mechanical units,” she said, her body tensing up and voice breaking as she gathered her power. “I will deal with the biological enemies.”

The man said something, but the chorus of alien voices drowned out whatever was said, and having broken into many of their minds at once, there was only room for simple commands, words and feelings. But she didn’t need much. Only one word to collapse an army.

_Fire. You are burning._

One command, and with it brought the horrendous pain of burning alive. They were not _physically_ suffering, of course, but to the mind, it made very little difference what was real or not. She opened her eyes and smiled.

The Mechtoids began emitting a mechanical screech, collapsing to the ground as they tried to process exactly what was happening, only knowing that they were dying. Sectoids fell down, writhing and screeching as their bodies were wracked with heatless flames. Drones exploded as ADVENT focused on them. A rocket from Charlotte turned a Cyberdisk into scrap, and the remaining mechanical units seemed to freeze for a few precious seconds as the entirety of the battle changed.

XCOM and ADVENT didn’t give them a chance to recover. Creed shot a couple drones out of the sky. Allison and several ADVENT soldiers combined their fire to destroy yet another cyberdisk. Blake and Analyn had spread out even further, fixing up ADVENT soldiers and saving them from a painful death or serious injury.

Nati was now focusing on the aliens debilitated from her psionic attack, placing direct headshots on downed Sectoids and Mechtoids with an inhuman precision. One shot, one alien. ADVENT soldiers were shouting words she didn’t hear, so deep in her trance that it was equivalent to being underwater. But in return, she could sense _everything._

The soldiers, who had been resigned to retreat and death were hopeful and buoyant, and she enhanced those emotions with a brief thought. Every enemy spotted by her squad was noted in some part of her mind, and in the minds of each other, enabling them to move from enemy to enemy instantaneously, their actions so in sync with each other that there was never a time when XCOM’s presence wasn’t acutely felt.

And she felt death. Some human, but most of it alien. More foreign minds simply ceased to exist; it was a scale of death that was almost indescribable and as more alien minds winked out of existence, the only path was forward.

A UFO sped across the sky, and she glanced up and locked on to the minds within. Simple Sectoid pilots. Weak and little more than tools, and tools they would remain. But not for the side they had once held. Very simple commands were all they understood, and thus, what she gave them.

_You will crash into your transport._

No resistance. No question.

She watched, almost amused as the silver UFO streaked down from the sky with a piercing shriek right before it crashed into one of the transports with an explosion that brightened the day. ADVENT soldiers cheered at the sight, and all of them pressed forward against the now-disabled alien army.

“We’ll kill them at the beach!” One called gleefully. “Come on!”

Patricia reached the city perimeter, and looked across and noted with satisfaction that her effect had been as widespread as she’d been hoping. ADVENT had not advanced in a uniform line, but the remaining alien mechanical units were retreating. Drones were flying back and Cyberdisks had folded into disks and doing likewise.

_You are powerful, psion, but you cannot kill an army._

The mocking, rasping voice of the Sectoid appeared in her mind, giving her a brief pause. A Hive Commander? No…Hive Commanders were…unique. The only ones who were allowed that luxury. This one here? The one attempting to threaten her? No, it was nothing.

So she struck back, located the most powerful psion that existed on the battlefield and forced herself in, much to its terror. _Perhaps not,_ she communicated back. _But I can kill you. Kill your allies and turn your chryssalids loose on them._

The command planted, she withdrew and stepped forward, trying to overlook the beach even though most of her view was blocked. She would likely not see the immediate aftermath of her order, but she knew she would see the carnage eventually.

“What is that?” Someone called, and Patricia glanced to the right to see… _something_ walking out of one of the transports. It stood nearly fifteen feet high, dwarfing the mechtoids walking out with it, was supported by metal legs with clawed feet which were attached to some center pod with orange lights she guessed were photoreceptors.

Well, it had been a good possibility that the aliens hadn’t shown all their tricks. But even if she couldn’t control it, she had an additional army of chryssalids, Sectoids and Mechtoids to throw at it. She looked across the beach and saw at least twelve more of those machines walk out, with some accompanying forces.

Her targets were clear, now it was time to give the pawns their command. So she raised her hand, pinpointed the minds and began giving her orders to the alien masses beneath her.

***

_Kochi, Japan_

_Where the hell are our reinforcements?_

Duri risked another quick attack and was immediately forced back down by the wave of return plasma fire at his position. “Beatriz, what’s it looking like?”

 _“Bad,”_ was the response. _“There are a lot of them coming up. You need to retreat if you don’t want to be overrun.”_

“Not a bad idea!” Cara called, as she shredded the armor of a Muton charging her position and fired another volley to kill it off completely. “We hold this position, we’re going to die!”

There unfortunately wasn’t much time for a debate. He could either try and hold this position, kill a lot of aliens, but maybe get his team killed, or make a brief retreat. There was really only one smart option. “Fall back!” He ordered, standing and firing suppressive fire at the aliens, forcing them back into cover or slowing them down at the very least.

It seemed the other squads had the same idea, the other Officers were ordering their squads back as well. Although not with nearly as much success for some of them. Duri watched sadly as one of the teams was destroyed by the combined firepower of a Muton and Vitakara squad. Sliding behind a concrete block, Duri appraised his new situation.

 _Right. Now what?_ They were pushed back to nearly the city edge, with plenty of cover, but the problem now was that they’d lost the beach for good, and the aliens could actually take an entrenched position. They apparently could afford to throw away soldiers. ADVENT didn’t have that luxury, and he wouldn’t do that anyway.

Two Borelians began taking shots at Johan and Kang, and he quickly rose from cover and fired several bursts at them. One hit square in the head, and forced the other down. Cara was sweeping her heavy autorifle back and forth along a large swath of territory where the aliens has established themselves. One Vitakarian stood and immediately jerked back as a well-placed sniper’s bullet took it out.

Duri’s lips twitched. Thank God for snipers. _“This is Gray Sky, coming in for a landing,”_ came the voice of the XCOM pilot. _“Stand by for Goliath support.”_

“Whatever the fuck that means,” Cara commented as she knelt into cover and quickly reloaded. “But I’ll take it!”

A roar overhead caught his attention, and that of the aliens as well as they shouted and immediately began firing at it. Duri saw why, for what was attached to the skyranger was…he blinked. No, he wouldn’t be hallucinating now.

The skyranger hovered right behind Duri and released the payload, which was a massive armored…machine that stood at _least_ fifteen feet high. Maybe even taller, and had equally large weaponry to match. It was in some sort of compressed state when it landed, but it rose and surveyed the battlefield, even as plasma fire burned into it.

 _“Goliath unit providing support,”_ it said in a monotone, synthesized voice. _“Firing initial barrage.”_

Several panels built into the shoulders of the Goliath popped out, aimed at the line of aliens in front of Duri, and unleashed a payload of micromissiles that shredded everything in a fifteen-foot radius. The aliens that weren’t killed instantly were wounded beyond all salvation, and Duri put down the survivors, even as the massive Goliath lumbered forward.

“Where the fuck did XCOM get _that_?” Cara shouted in disbelief. “How the hell-?!” An explosion cut her off, but Duri echoed the sentiment. He’d known XCOM had machines called MECs; powerful ones too. But there hadn’t been any inclination of _anything_ of this scale.

Not that he was complaining.

The Goliath took out its primary weapon, which must have been gauss-based, and began aiming at various groups of aliens. The cannon physically vibrated the air around it, and was surprisingly accurate for such a large weapon. But it was a machine, and machines were precise. In any case _that_ was apparently cause for concern among the aliens who immediately began retreating and firing at the Goliath, which seemed to be taking no damage whatsoever.

It then raised its cannon up, lowered a free fist and shot out a torrent of flame that Duri felt through his armor, and the Goliath directed the gouts of flame all across the beach, sentencing any who were unfortunate enough to be caught in it to an extremely painful death. “Move up!” Duri ordered, glad to give that command after the previous retreat.

Although the Goliath might not need much help, since it seemed fine roasting and shooting the aliens all on its own. It hadn’t touched the shield yet, where those Andromedons were still hiding behind, as well as several hundred more Mutons who Duri noted were taking positions in the UFO transports themselves.

The aliens were losing now, and they knew it. Would they retreat? Or fight to the last one?

Duri reloaded his rifle and took aim at one of the Andromedons retreating to a transport, even as the Goliath slammed a fist into the red energy shield and collapsed the entire thing.

The line was held. Now it was time to take the fight to their transports.

***

 _Near Shibetsu_ , _Japan_

“Inori! Get down!”

Nuan watched helplessly as Inori took a direct plasma shot to the chest from a lucky Andromedon shot, throwing him back onto the ground. She heard him coughing, and unsteadily push himself up against the barricade.

“I’m fine,” he gasped. “Don’t think I can take another one of those.”

“Stay down!” Iosif ordered, as he ducked back down as more Andromedons emerged from the city itself, dozens of them at a time now. They just didn’t stop coming.

 _“Stand by for airstrike,”_ a synthesized voice warned suddenly, and a squad of four fighter jets suddenly roared overhead, firing several missiles each that hit the town directly. Nuan couldn’t see the immediate aftermath, but based on the explosions, it appeared to be a hit. _“Coming around for another run. Hang on-“_

Plasma fire from several UFOs filled the skies and the fighters immediately broke off to deal with the new threat. “Did that actually accomplish anything?” Anna demanded as she tried to pin down a squad of Andromedons trying to take cover behind an exploded truck.

“Couldn’t have hurt,” Iosif called back, looking worriedly at the growing number of Andromedons. The damn aliens really were smart. Each time even one of them was partially wounded, they would just leave and be replaced by a healthy one. It was effectively a stalemate that Nuan had no idea how to resolve. These aliens were at least partially machines, and would probably not tire as easily, but they were slower and easy targets, so they couldn’t just charge into the open.

Right?

 _“Think we’ve got a new one,”_ Zara commented, firing her weapon at a new squad of Andromedons emerging from the city. They were all regular soldiers barring one, an Andromedon with a similar green helmet, but the differences were that the helmet had some kind of symbol on it, and the left arm had some kind of attachment on it.

“I see it,” Iosif confirmed. “Possibly a leader.”

The assumption seemed to be correct, as the Andromedon began pointing and marching forward, and the Andromedons around him seemed to be reorganizing. The leader didn’t go into cover, just raise one massive hand, notably the one not holding the plasma rifle, and all Andromedon fire stopped, and they began pressing buttons on their suit.

“ _I do not like this,”_ Seok muttered. _“We should take the leader.”_

“Go for it,” Iosif ordered. “But good luck getting a shot to hit.”

Despite that, Nuan tried her best, but the beams were just off, and the Andromedon was just too far away to get anything accurate. “Acid!” Iosif suddenly shouted. “They shoot acid!” He thrust up his hands and the barricade was engulfed in a purple shield once more, just as every Andromedon on the field raised their left wrists and fired shells of green blobs, small on their own, but a deadly storm of corrosion when combined by the hundreds.

The barricade where they were at now was protected, thanks to Iosif, with the acid shells dissipating the moment they hit the shield, but the ADVENT line behind them wasn’t so fortunate, and Nuan heard screams of pain as the soldiers were hit by the barrage of sizzling liquid. “Check in!” Iosif called, as the Andromedons resumed their plasma attacks on them.

 _“I need a medic,”_ Seok hissed, gasping in pain. _“Direct hit on my arm and leg. Hurts like hell, damn it!”_

 _“I’m fine,”_ Zara said. _“But that did its job. Quite a few soldiers got hit, and this area is now pretty much a toxic minefield. I don’t want to know if this stuff eats through boots.”_

“You don’t have to sound so impressed,” Anna growled. “Shoot back!”

 _“Yes, of course,”_ Zara replied sarcastically, but continued shooting at the Andromedons.

“We need Patricia,” Iosif muttered, creating a psionic shield in front of an ADVENT team as they tried to repair their barricade. “Or a MEC. At some point they’re going to charge, and airstrikes and artillery are too imprecise.”

The ground suddenly shook and all of them exchanged looks. “That doesn’t sound good,” Nuan said slowly, and then she saw what the Andromedons had been waiting for. They were two-legged pods with clawed feet and a series of orange lights that resembled eyes.

“I think the Andromedons are as tired of this as we are,” Iosif said slowly. “We might be in trouble.”

One of the machines suddenly hissed, and several metal plates on the top part of the…main pod of the machine, she guessed, withdrew to reveal what she could only describe as a cannon of death. The interior glowed red and she knew exactly what was coming next. Iosif saw it too. “Everyone get down!” He yelled as the shield was thrown up again and the machine fired.

Three massive laser bursts shot out of the machine with deep booms. The first Iosif didn’t waver, the second made the shield waver and the third one was barely absorbed with the barrier collapsing immediately afterwards, Iosif fell to the ground, breathing hard. Nuan rushed to him, and helped prop him up against the barricade.

“I can’t do that often,” he wheezed. “We need to fall back. We can’t hold this position if those things start firing again.”

“The other one is aiming here!” Anna called frantically. “Get down.”

“Everyone to me!” Iosif roared, standing up and weakly raising a hand to make the sphere materialize around them again. “We retreat toward the main barricade!”

“Copy!” They and the ADVENT soldiers yelled, consolidating around Iosif. The small ground was beginning to move back when the machine fired again, this time destroying the established barricade with a single laser volley, sending pieces of shrapnel flying everywhere, catching several ADVENT engineers and Inori who hadn’t managed to get under Iosif’s barricade.

“I’m getting him!” Gyeong called, preparing to move to pull Inori under Iosif’s protection.

“No! Stay!” Inori called, groaning in pain as he tried to reach for his rifle. “You need to get out of here!” Nuan was torn, he was right, and his leg was practically shredded by shrapnel so he would probably slow them down. But if felt wrong to just _leave_ him.

 _“Get back here now!”_ Zara yelled. _“They’re moving up. All of them are charging our position!”_

Nuan looked back and she almost froze up on the spot. The Andromedons were coming after them now, eschewing cover and making a concerted push to take ADVENT’s position. It was a slow, methodical march, and now she saw the elusive engineers that had been fixing the Andromedons so far emerge. These were similar in armor and stature, but had red-tinted helmets, didn’t carry weapons and were accompanied by a small drone-like machine.

“Everyone retreat!” One of the Officers screamed. “That machine is going to fire rockets.”

Nuan saw the machines seemingly plant themselves in the ground, and metal plates slid away from the top of their pods revealing what had to be missile tubes. A few seconds later all of them fired in quick succession with concussive booms.

That was what broke the ADVENT line, and all of them went scrambling back as the line was suddenly engulfed in multiple explosions that caught dozens of ADVENT soldiers before they could do anything but try and run away. “Everyone, _run!”_ Iosif commanded, spinning around, and converting the sphere to a solid rectangle two dozen feet wide, giving everyone the chance to run away without fear of being shot in the back. “ _Now_! I can’t hold this forever!”

The ADVENT soldiers and engineers complied, with the remaining XCOM soldiers still providing covering fire, even as they retreated step by step. The Andromedons had advanced to where Inori was, who was firing at what aliens he could. He screamed as one of the Andromedons shot his arm, while the leader reached down and picked him up by the throat.

With Inori firmly in his grasp, the Andromedon leader turned around and walked away while the remaining Andromedons continued their steady advance. “Are they gone?” Iosif demanded, the barrier wavering.

“They’re safe enough,” Gyeong assured him. “We didn’t lose any in the missile strike either. Zara’s got Seok and they’re behind us. We need to run too. We’ll have to make a stand at Nakashibetsu.”

“Alright, on my mark, run!” Iosif ordered. “Nuan, pop smoke now!”

“Done,” Nuan confirmed, dropping the canister and beginning a sprint away. Iosif lowered the barricade and they all dashed away as fast as they could, plasma fire lighting up the space behind them. And just like that, the aliens had captured their first city in Japan, a foothold had been established and they hadn’t been able to stop it.

Nuan sincerely hoped that the other battles were going much better than this one had.

***

_Shirako Beachhead, Japan_

_Kill the machines._

That was the mental command Patricia emitted to every alien she could invade the mind of. The chryssalids screeched, spittle flying from their mouths as they swarmed the massive machines which laboriously turned to appraise the situation. A plasma turret popped out from the top of them, and began shooting the chryssalids with ease, negating what little danger they posed.

But the distraction was enough to get ADVENT forces into position, and begin firing on the machines and Cyberdisks that came out. Flanking the machines was a kind of Mechtoid she’d never seen before. It was as if the Sectoids had taken the basic shell of the Mechtoid, and turned it into what could only be described as a walking tank.

No longer did it simply have plasma cannons for arms, these now seemed augmented with missile launchers of some sort, even as they were already bulkier and taller than the original Mechtoid. But it unfortunately had one fatal flaw, and that was an organic pilot, and organic pilots could just be controlled.

Patricia extended a hand towards two approaching enhanced Mechtoids, and focused on their subdued mental states. Enslaved to implants and machines, they were similar to MECs in that they were difficult to detect, and broad psionic commands had little effect. But a side effect of their invisibility was that there was little in their minds of begin with.

 _The machines are your enemy._ She sent. _Destroy them and then each other._

Instantly they raised their weapons to the nearest machine and started shooting, getting the attention of the machine which stomped behind to face them. Meanwhile the other aliens under the influence of her were quickly dying off from the combined fire of the Cyberdisks and the machines.

“Take cover!” Creed called, and Patricia frowned as she saw one of the machines fire missiles from the top of its command pod and those crashed down on an ADVENT position several dozen meters away, killing most of the soldiers there.

“Support their position!” She ordered her soldiers, and they began shooting pulse lasers and gauss-propelled rounds at the massive machines, which seemed to have very little effect initially. Patricia focused on the enhanced Mechtoids close to the other machines, and easily converted them to betray the aliens, but it seemed that even plasma was doing little more than scorching the paint.

A shot from Nati neutralized the turret on the machine with a miniature explosion of green. Patricia quickly located the sniper on one knee and concentrated on him. _Be calm and focused,_ she pressed upon him, even as she saw the effects. Enhanced by her power, he easily transitioned from one target to the next, shutting down the turrets on the machines with ease.

But it still wasn’t going to be good enough, the machines still had missiles and a massive laser Patricia just saw being used on another ADVENT position. The machines needed to be taken out _now_ and _fast_. But fortunately, she had an idea of what to do. “ADVENT Command,” she said. “Send all fighters under UFO attack to my position. I will deal with them.”

 _“Understood, Overseer,”_ a voice answered. _“There’s a few heading over now.”_

One of the enhanced Mechtoids was blown to pieces by a laser barrage from one of the machines, another was stomped into the ground by another. Charlotte fired several rockets at several cyberdisks, destroying one and heavily damaging the others. Blake and Analyn were in completely different places, trying to save what ADVENT soldiers they could.

Allison and Creed picked off drones one by one, and finished off damaged Cyberdisks near the machines, which did seem to unsteady some which were in close proximity to the explosive Cyberdisks. And she was running out of ways to psionically shape this fight. Almost all of the Sectoids were dead, either by the guns of their own or ADVENT soldiers who just shot all aliens in sight, not that she could blame them.

The chryssalids were also all dead, and the few Mechtoids, enhanced and normal, were almost wiped out as they stood no chance against the machines, although one had managed to damage the leg of one. Still didn’t save it as a rocket barrage from the machine blew it apart.

But the upside was that it freed her mind to pay attention to new arrivals, like the two UFOs streaking overhead, peppering several fighters with green bolts as the human pilots tried to fly away. Patricia closed her eyes and concentrated solely on the Sectoids piloting their fighters, letting the sounds, screams and voices of the battle around her fade.

_Abandon the hunt, follow my orders._

Words would not be enough to illustrate the complexity of her order, so she instead impressed in their minds a clear image of what she wanted them to do. The Sectoids initially resisted, but like the rest, they were no match for an experienced psion.

The air around her began vibrating, and she opened her eyes to a purple-tinted vision of the battlefield. Hoping she was correct, she looked up and smiled. Roughly ten meters above her, much to the surprise and terror of the ADVENT soldiers, were the two UFOs, weapons ready and pointing towards the line of machines.

She pointed. _Fire_.

The pilots obeyed her commands without question, firing green barrages of plasma at the line of machines, and at an intensity and speed that actually seemed to be doing some damage. Realizing the UFOs were somehow friendly, the ADVENT soldiers shouted, cheered, and renewed their attack as the machines focused on the newest threat.

Patricia did not care as she saw the UFOs take brutal hits from the massive laser cannons. They were just pawns to be sacrificed, but she did not especially care to have a UFO crash directly on top of her. But the situation was not quite that dire yet. One of the machines succumbed to the continuous barrage of plasma fire and blew apart with an explosion of red and fire.

However, now one of the UFOs was in bad shape, judging from the panic and terror she felt from the crew. Fair enough, then there was one final command to give. _Finish the line_ , she send, along with another image of what she wanted to see accomplished. The UFO, weeping fluids and smoke shot off into the sky, then swung around in a wide arc until it lined up roughly with the machines on the beach.

After a second of hesitation, it shot towards them, gathering speed as pieces of the UFO were visibly sheared off by the force, but nothing stopped the suicide crash that it was intending. It hit the first machine at what was probably the speed of sound, tearing it apart before slamming into the one next to it with almost as much force before hitting the beach and sliding forward into still two more, collapsing the machines as they were too crippled to regain their balance, before finally coming to a stop, just as the elerium power core inside exploded, killing any of the crew that might have survived.

Five more of the machines remained, but they showed no signs of retreat as they continued firing at the remaining UFO, in addition to concentrating on ADVENT positions. Barricades were annihilated with one pulse from the laser. Clustered squads were wiped out by missile barrages. The aliens were determined to make them pay dearly, and Patricia figured it had gone on long enough.

She physically gestured to the machines, echoing the sentiment in her mind to the UFO she controlled. _End this_. The UFO suddenly sped towards the two machines it had been shooting at with a speed that nearly knocked her over from the blowback, and it shredded them apart before burying itself deep within one of the UFO transports, pushing the UFO into the sea and submerging it below the water.

Up above she sensed more UFOs coming. There was no careful planning this time. No images or maneuvering to get them into a special position. These were not UFOs anymore, but guided missiles waiting for her command. Out of nowhere a UFO streaked out of the sky to impact another machine, the explosion sending out a shockwave that knocked everyone nearby off-balance and threw several to the ground.

In quick succession the other two UFOs fell out of the sky like silver meteors; the machines they hit were torn asunder with no defense as the sheer force negated whatever natural defense their armor allowed. What remained was a beach on fire, scraps, shards and shrapnel littering the sand and ocean. No alien showed itself and a silence descended upon the battlefield, aside from the whispering of flame.

All that might possibly be left were outsiders…but at most there were less than a hundred, nothing compared to the thousands of soldiers ADVENT commanded here.  Still, the UFOs needed to be cleared and she planned to continue doing her part.

Or would have, if the world hadn’t suddenly blurred around her and she fell to a knee as the adrenaline and rush of power faded out of her. She heard a mix of voices above her, one seemed to be…Analyn? Blake? She managed to sense Creed close by…was he the one holding her hand?

And why was she on the ground with her helmet off?

But her mind and body demanded rest after what she’d done, and she had no choice but to comply, and hoped that she’d done enough to win the battle, and that someone would bring her back to it.

***

_Shizuoka, Japan_

A roar from the larger Muton prompted Jamali to get out of his position, just in time too, as the weakened wall finally gave out and shattered from the concentrated bursts of the plasma cannon. However, the Muton was not going to last much longer because ADVENT was advancing, and their gauss weapons were punching through even the Muton’s armor.

But at this point, Jamali was pretty sure the Muton didn’t care about ADVENT anymore, and was purely motivated by revenge. He couldn’t really blame it. He probably wouldn’t be thinking clearly either if one person had managed to almost kill his entire squad.

That being said, he didn’t particularly like it.

Jamali took cover behind a counter and quickly updated what he knew about the Muton. ADVENT soldiers were much closer, and they had hit the alien’s knee, so the Muton was confined to the ground, shooting now at the ADVENT soldiers, killing one who got too close. Now was his chance. Jamali lined up his pulse weapon and fired a sustained beam at the head of the alien.

It was a direct hit and hit directly in the purple eye of the helmet, drilling through in seconds and piercing the soft skin below. The Muton let out one final roar and fell back. Jamali didn’t give it a chance in case it was faking, and aimed another beam at the face, keeping the beam there for several seconds. Smoke rising from the holes he’d burned, he stood, reloaded and walked out to the ADVENT soldiers.

“Are there any more?” He asked the Officer, who was almost staring at him reverently. Come to notice it, all of them were.

But she quickly got over it. “No sir, I think that’s the last in that group.”

“There’ll be more,” he said. “Keep moving forward. A couple more XCOM soldiers should be coming-“

“Jamali!” He turned at the sound of his name and saw Iida and Sai-Kee rushing up, skidding to a stop as they observed the carnage.

“I guess you had things under control,” Sai-Kee commented. “New Muton?”

“Commander of some sort,” Jamali said as Iida knelt down by it. “You recognize it?”

“Never seen it before,” Iida shrugged, standing up. “Vahlen will love it though.”

“Let’s win the battle first,” Jamali suggested. “How’s the rest of the assault progressing?”

“Never seen anything like it,” Sai-Kee said in awe. “Carmelita and Matthew are making a mockery out of the alien army.”

“Good for them,” Jamali said, looking down the street as he spotted movement. “But we need to advance. Officer,” he turned to the woman standing attentively. “Do you have any idea where they came from?”

“A small UFO flew over before the attack here started,” she answered, pointing down the street. “About ten minutes later the Mutons showed up. I would guess the UFO is still there.”

“Then that’s our target,” Jamali nodded. “Carmelita, you there?”

 _“Here!”_ Was the almost snarled response. _“Status?”_

“Alive, and we think there’s a UFO at the end of this,” he updated. “Raider-class by the sound of it, not a transport. We’re heading there.”

 _“Good plan,”_ she agreed. _“Stay in contact.”_

“Will do, Overseer,” he said, and ended the call. “We have our target. Officer, follow us. I doubt that was all they had.”

“Will do,” she said, waving the soldiers forward. “Come on!”

They carefully made their way down the street, acutely aware of the sounds of more battle in the distance, but eventually they all felt it: the low thrum of an alien UFO. And then the alien reinforcements arrived.

“Vitakara!” Sai-Kee called, and all of them ducked, slid, or fell into some kind of cover. Jamali knelt behind a concrete divider, and peered down the scope at the alien approaching. A dozen Borelians, along with…he frowned. Were those _snakes?_

“What the fuck?” One of the ADVENT soldiers muttered in disbelief. “ _Snakes?”_

Snakes they seemed to be. Three meters tall, with arms carrying plasma rifles and their thin body covered in silver armor. The faces reminded him of vipers, a sleek and symmetrical face that was what you would see in nightmares. The worst part was that these things were _fast_. They slithered into cover within seconds after being spotted, taking positions far beyond the main alien force.

“Oyariah!” Iida called out as she spotted the last hulking aliens. “Although these ones are…different.”

Jamali froze for a brief second. What the hell was an Oyariah-ah, right. The rarer subspecies of Vitakara that was extremely tall, strong and dangerous. They apparently killed some at the Fury base, but Jamali didn’t exactly recall them carrying black shields nearly as tall as him, and massive hammers along with them.

“Fire!” Jamali ordered as the Vitakara scattered into cover to avoid the hail of steel and fire heading down the street. All except the Oyariah, who raised their shields and absorbed the shots. At least there were only two of them, but that wouldn’t really matter much if those hulking aliens got close.

Their positions entrenched, the Borelians began firing at them, green plasma streaking past them or hitting their cover. Jamali took aim at one of the Borelians, fired, and watched as the alien fell back, a smoking hole in its head. Iida was focusing down two more Borelians, clipping one in the shoulder and keeping the other one in cover.

Sai-Kee tossed out a canister at the man-sized snakes who were trying to move forward, using their slim bodies to their fullest potential as they crawled along cover that would have been too small for ordinary bodies. They hissed fiercely as the flashbang went off, one close enough that the impact made it writhe on the ground, and Sai-Kee quickly shot it several times in the head.

And _that_ was when the rest of them made their suicidal move. Their small frames made it extremely difficult to hit them, and they sped up on the front line and suicidally attacked it. An ADVENT soldier yelped as one of the aliens _wrapped_ itself around him, constricting his movement and breathing as it shot another soldier several times in the chest and head. It squeezed its coiled muscles once, killing the soldier instantly with a sharp _crack_ and unfurled itself and tried to move on.

Or it would have moved on had Jamali not shot it in the face, and so it died, wrapped around the body of the dead ADVENT soldier. The snakes had tried the same thing with several more soldiers, with largely the same results, killing one or two, before being shot to death.

“Back! Back!” Iida spat as she frantically stepped back, firing at the last remaining snake Vitakara which was hissing and dodging her fire, trying to wrap itself around her. Jamali fired a sustained laser beam and kept it in one place, leading the alien to unintentionally slice itself in half while trying to avoid Iida’s gauss fire.

The other half of the snake writhed on the ground, quickly stopped by Iida placing several gauss shots directly into its head. “Thanks for that,” Iida told him as they returned their focus to the main battle.

“Anytime,” Jamali said, aiming at another Borelian who was rushing forward, and fired. He didn’t kill the alien, but did slice its arm clean off, essentially putting it out of commission. “We need to deal with those Oyariah now!”

The lumbering aliens were almost to the front line, and once they arrived, it would probably make the snakes looks easy in comparison, because these aliens were armed and _armored_ to survive close-quarters combat. So that meant some risks had to be taken.

“Sai-Kee, you take the right, I’ll take the left,” Jamali ordered, reloading his rifle. “We need to debilitate them. “Officer! Iida! Covering fire now! We’re going up.”

“Popping smoke!” Sai-Kee called, and tossed a canister at the front line which exploded in a pink cloud a few seconds later, allowing them to charge forward into the hail of plasma. They needed to get behind the Oyariah for this to work, so Jamali dashed past them, hoping they wouldn’t notice, and even if they did, his plan would still work.

He glanced behind him, and saw the aliens slowly advancing, struggling against the hail of gauss fire shot their way. He glanced over to see Sai-Kee also in position, extremely close to the Borelian line. A quick nod, and Jamali raised his rifle, targeted the leg joint, and fired a clean sustained beam of red energy.

The alien screamed as the laser burned into first his armor, then flesh. It tried to remain standing, but was unable to bear the weight, and fell to one knee. Jamali quickly transitioned to the next vulnerable point, the opposing ankle, and fired. The alien turned to him and began crawling towards him, ditching the shield as it was effectively crippled.

“Iida?” He called, aiming for the head.

The crimson beam burrowed into the black helm of the Oyariah, giving him a glimpse of the orange eyes underneath it, and a hail of bullets from Iida ensured that it never reached him, and the titan fell still, not even giving a last gasp.

“Need some help!” Sai-Kee shouted as the other Oyariah, while hit, wasn’t crippled and was heading towards the lone XCOM soldier, caught between the furious alien and line of Borelian soldiers. The Oyariah knew it as well, and frustratingly had positioned his shield to ensure that Jamali couldn’t get a clear shot at him, and certainly not cripple him.

 The alien took a swipe at him which Sai-Kee leapt away from with ease, but unfortunately right into the firing line of the Borelians. One plasma shot glanced his shoulder, and the other slammed directly into his back, sending him sprawling to the ground as the Oyariah stormed forward to finish the job. “Get back!” Sai-Kee yelled to him, frantically waving behind the alien. “Kill it _now_!”

Jamali understood what he was saying. Sai-Kee was going to die, but the brief moment would let him get a clear shot at the alien. So he dashed back to the ADVENT line, plasma fire scorching the paint of his armor several times and turned back once more to see the Oyariah bring the hammer down directly onto Sai-Kee’s head with a _crack_ the he could almost feel.

By that point, Jamali was sure Sai-Kee was dead, but it seemed the alien wanted to make sure and raised the hammer again, and that was when Jamali aimed at the knee and fired, as did Iida and half a dozen other ADVENT soldiers. The alien roared and collapsed to the ground, not dead, but a grenade thrown by the ADVENT Officer made it stop moving.

Down one soldier, with at least eight Borelians left, not counting whatever else was left in that UFO which he knew would be an outsider of some kind. But now they outnumbered the aliens significantly, and one by one they soon fell to ADVENT rounds, his pulse laser, or Iida’s gauss rifle. Jamali cut the leg off one retreating Borelian, and it was soon executed by another ADVENT soldier with a few rounds to the back.

Iida shot another Borelian hiding behind a car, riddling the corpse with holes as they steadily advanced forward. The Borelians didn’t go down without a fight, killing their fair share of ADVENT soldiers with well-placed shots, but not enough to make a difference as Jamali ended the last one standing with a sustained pulse beam to the heart.

All of them paused for breath once the last one fell, taking a moment to get their bearings once more. Jamali looked back up the street and realized just how many people had died here. Human and alien corpses littered the streets, blood coloring the pavement crimson and yellow as each side fought to the bloody end.

He did a quick count. Six ADVENT left, plus an Officer, and both of them. “How are your soldiers?” He asked the Officer, who was also looking over her troops as they reloaded and bandaged their wounds.

“We’re still good,” she said, exhaustion clear in her voice nonetheless. “We’ve still got a UFO, yeah?”

“This has to be everything,” Iida said, looking down the street, the end in sight. “I think we’re only left with an outsider, and maybe a few Sectoids.”

Jamali hefted his rifle. “Let’s finish this then, move out.”

They jogged towards the edge of the street that transitioned to the small beachhead where the UFO was resting on. The area around it looked dead, empty and like a trap. Jamali sighed. In most cases, he knew XCOM would want to keep as much of the alien tech intact as possible, Dr. Vahlen in particular was particularly obsessive over functional tech.

But frankly, right now he didn’t really care what she wanted.

“You still have a rocket?” He asked one of the ADVENT soldiers carrying a rocket launcher.

“Yes, sir,” he nodded. “But I don’t think this is going to put a dent in it.”

“Those UFOs have outsiders,” Jamali explained, eyeing the entrance with the multicolored shield. “I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to go through another fight. The alien UFOs are powered by elerium generators, which are exposed in the UFO itself. Aim for the back of the UFO through the entrance and you’ll destroy it. Sound good?”

“You got it,” he nodded and positioned himself in front of the UFO, loading the rocket. “Ready on your command.”

“Fire,” the Officer ordered, and he shot the rocket which sped into the UFO and the muffled explosion reached Jamali’s ears. Then a second later, the entire back of the UFO blew out and a wave of plasma and fire shot out all the exits. The UFO still burning, Jamali gave a firm nod.

“Mission accomplished, Carmelita, the UFO has been taken care of.”

 _“You mean you blew it up,”_ she corrected. _“Good job. We’re finishing up here. Looks like this area is secure. Report back as soon as possible. Status of everyone?”_

“Sai-Kee is dead,” Jamali updated. “Iida and I are unharmed.”

“Update that to just _you_ ,” Iida corrected, slumping to the ground. “Since the fighting’s done, I want proper treatment now.”

Jamali frowned and knelt down by her, removing her hand from her stomach which had suffered a direct hit. Her own gauntlet was bloody as he pulled it away, appraising the damage. It wasn’t fatal, but it must have hurt a lot. “We need medical treatment for Iida,” he corrected Carmelita, waving one of the ADVENT soldiers to get some bandages and medicine. “We’ll meet up as soon as possible.”

_“Copy, and good job.”_

Yes, good job. Even if the street was littered with dozens of alien and human corpses, Jamali suspected it could have gone much, _much_ worse. And it occurred to him that if they were winning…then there was a good chance that the aliens had lost this battle.

And _that_ was almost worth everything.

***

_Kochi, Japan_

“Push towards the UFO!” Duri ordered as the Goliath continued pulling all of the alien fire, even as it destroyed several aliens at a time every few seconds with a burst of its massive weapon. Duri gained quite a lot of satisfaction seeing one burst from the massive gauss cannon rip through one of those damned Andromedons, shattering the helmet.

Of course, even that didn’t kill them.

The suits continued fighting somehow, pulling out some small plasma rifles and shooting at the encroaching ADVENT army while the rest of the surviving Mutons and Vitakara were retreating towards the UFO transports themselves.

“Beatriz! Can you see anything in the transports?” Duri asked, as they overlooked the exposed beachhead, planning the best way to go forward. The aliens might be fine with sending out soldiers into the killzone that was the beach, but he didn’t have such aspirations.

_“Negative, nothing beyond the initial entrance.”_

Duri glanced over to the Goliath moving down the beach, killing any alien foolish enough to still be in the open. He also saw the rest of the remaining aliens in the UFO, stationed behind erected barricades within the ship, firing out at them. However, the good news was that with them effectively boxed in, it limited their sight range and possible reactions.

“Reload and get ready,” Duri said, as he saw the other squads also preparing to perform some similar actions. “We’re going to thread between the two transports and set up along the side.”

“Good plan,” Cara said. “Or we could wait for the Goliath.”

Duri looked at the massive MEC to see it slowly fall to one knee in front of the transport, raise a fist towards the entrance, shrugging off the green plasma fire, and shot a cone of flame into the transport, sweeping its wrist from side to side.

“Let’s not let XCOM get all the credit,” Johan chuckled. “Besides, someone’s going to need to actually clear the craft.”

Duri raised his rifle. “Let’s go!” They charged out of their cover and dashed to the space in between the massive silver UFOs, some plasma fire coming incredibly close to hitting, but they managed to get to the edge of the craft and leaned against the metal, which was surprisingly _warm_. Duri motioned them to get closer, and they snuck to the edge and peered in.

There were actually not that many left. Only a dozen in total. Seven Mutons, three Vitakarians and two Borelians. _No_ Andromedons, thankfully, or maybe they were just hiding. The UFO was designed rather intelligently from what he could see. The panels that had been erected had clearly once been in the floor, which allowed enough room to hold an army, but also provided defenses in case the UFO had to be defended, such as in the current situation.

“Grenade on the Mutons!” Duri called, and tossed one towards two of the hulking aliens who were stationed behind a short panel. It was a near-perfect throw, landing next to one and killing it instantly while severely wounding the other.

“Cara! Suppress!” Duri yelled and she took his position, swinging out and laying down a brief barrage of gauss fire that forced them back into cover while Johan and Kang moved to the opposite side of the transport entrance and he took a position within the UFO itself.

“ _Reinforcements are heading your way,”_ Beatriz updated. _“Two more squads.”_

“Excellent,” Duri grinned, and raised his rifle and took aim at one of the Vitakarian soldiers. “Let’s give them some cover!”

Another Muton succumbed to Kang’s rifle, and Cara and Johan took out a Borelian a few seconds later. More ADVENT soldiers rushed up, taking positions in deeper in the craft itself, with Duri at the front. An ADVENT soldier close to him was sniped by one of the Vitakarians, and received a grenade thrown by another Officer in retaliation.

“Up above!” Cara yelled, pointing to the back of the UFO hangar they were in, just before it transitioned to a new part of the ship. The entrance further in was seemingly protected by some kind of multi-colored shield, which dissipated as more aliens walked out. _Outsiders_. The guardians of UFOs, with a half-dozen Sectoids also accompanying them.

Duri pointed at one of the two glowing orange aliens. “Take those out now!”

“Targeting!” Cara confirmed and the crystalline alien was suddenly under a steady barrage of gauss fire, sparking off the body as the alien raised its rifle and began shooting.

“Preparing rocket!” One of the rocketeers called, the launcher already on his shoulder. “Firing!”

Duri saw the rocket speed past the Outsiders, and realized that the target _wasn’t_ them, but the Sectoids who had been taking cover behind the elevated platform leading to the next section of the UFO. All the small gray aliens were killed by the explosion that followed, the shrapnel tearing apart whatever alien hadn’t been smashed to a pulp by the initial shockwave.

The Outsiders had finally been forced into cover as the last of the alien defenders fell. Cara paused to reload, while the other ADVENT gunners advanced relentlessly. Another Officer tossed his grenade towards one of the Outsiders, forcing to step out and it started cracking as it was instantly assaulted with the weapons of every ADVENT soldier in the UFO and disintegrated like a burning piece of paper.

The remaining Outsider suffered a similar fate, not even able to get a single kill as the ADVENT gunners ripped it apart at close range within several seconds. “Move in!” One of the Officers ordered, pointing deeper into the UFO, and all of them followed that order, but Duri was confident that they would find no more aliens. Outsiders only emerged when the ship was in danger of falling, and the Sectoids wouldn’t risk themselves unless there was no one else left.

So even as he went along clearing the various sections, he knew they’d won.

Kochi had been saved.

***

_Nakashibetsu, Japan_

“Hold him down,” Zara ordered her as she carefully removed Seok’s armor to treat his acid burns. The survivors had been picked up by ADVENT transports and were heading straight for Nakashibetsu, the next stronghold of ADVENT since the defense of Shibetsu had failed.

Nuan and Anna held a respective arm, while Zara sprayed the med-kit on his chest. “God, that stings,” Seok hissed, panting heavily. “You almost done?”

“Shut up,” Zara said. “Almost. Acid doesn’t just go away, even with these med-kits.”

“We need to find out how the rest of the attacks went,” Iosif said, rifle aimed out the back of the transport even though there were no aliens in sight. “The Commander needs to know Inori was captured.”

He adjusted something on his helmet. “Lightning Sky, you there?”

_“Here, and I don’t think you guys need to worry about pursuit. The aliens are retreating to the town.”_

Nuan looked up. “What?”

 _“This was essentially the only place they were able to establish any kind of foothold,”_ Lightning Sky explained. _“Almost all of the other offenses have been pushed back. I don’t think they have the soldiers left to push forward.”_

“So…we won?” Seok asked weakly, pushing himself up. “Even though we lost the town?”

 _“Well, the aliens attacked all across the coasts, and only managed one capture,”_ Lightning Sky said. Nuan almost visualized the shrug. _“I’d say that this was an overall victory. And now we know where they’ll attack next.”_

“In a way, it might be for the best the city was lost,” Zara commented. “The aliens will be concentrated in one place and we’ll be able to keep an eye on them.”

“Except they could attack Korea or China from there,” Nuan pointed out. “They only wanted Japan as a _staging ground_ for attacking Asia. And now they’ve got one, no matter how small it is.”

“The aliens won’t attack Asia until they control most of the country,” Zara defended coolly. “Unless they want to prompt ADVENT to attack them _now_ and then isolate whatever force they send to Asia, they won’t do anything until they actually control the country. Which now they do _not_.”

“At least it’s over,” Shun sighed. “For now, anyway. But at least Japan is safe.”

Nuan couldn’t disagree with her on that. More importantly, Japan was safe and most of them were alive. She’d lived through the attack and she felt…better about the future. If this was her trial by fire, then she was certain she’d passed it.

But unfortunately, she knew it would only get harder from here. The aliens would not take this defeat lightly.

***

_Forward Observation Station, Mars Orbit_

Several more transport icons turned red and Ravarian once more held his tongue. The holographic map of Japan was essentially now little more than a checklist of losses. They had nothing more to gain by sending more forces, and he _was_ going to dissuade Caelior from continuing the attack if he kept up this insanity.

Luckily, he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who felt this way. At the moment he was grateful to Quisilia for putting a mental block around him so he wasn’t affected by the auras of multiple Ethereals simultaneously. He’d had that happen before and it had been…unpleasant. Although an advantage was that he learned that it worked both ways to an extent. The one emitting the aura also had their emotions revealed somewhat. Not plainly, or course, but there were spikes in intensity, and combined with verbal and visual cues, it essentially allowed him to read Ethereals to a small degree.

Before today he’d not even known Ethereal Caelior existed, and he was largely unimpressed with the Ethereal, and didn’t particularly care if the hooded Ethereal read his mind or not. His attire was certainly interesting, gray armor that only covered his torso, arms and legs, with a purple hood over the unseen helm of the Ethereal.

Ravarian finally put his hands on the holotable. “I trust you’ve seen enough, Ethereal Caelior?”

The hooded Ethereal looked down at him. “The battle is not lost yet,” he stated, the deep voice reverberating even deeper than other Ethereals. “You understand how paltry this number was, Zar’Chon?”

Caelior clearly intended that to be the end of it, but Ravarian had quite enough of it, which would be reckless at any other time, but the fact that Quisilia hadn’t telepathically dissuaded him in the first place indicated that the Unseen Ethereal was just as irritated as he was. “Perhaps not in the grand scheme of the war, Ethereal Caelior,” Ravarian continued, keeping his tone respectful. “But the losses are close to half a million, with very little ground gained to show for it. The tactics used were flawed, and we need to determine a different means of attack.” He pointed on the map. “We now have a foothold. For now we should hold-“

His jaw suddenly clamped up and a firm pressure rested over his body, rendering him immobilized as Caelior simply looked at him. Quisilia materialized behind Caelior a second later, just as immobile as the Ethereal keeping him pinned in place. “Release the Zar’Chon, Caelior. _Now._ ”

“If I wanted advice, Zar’Chon, I would have asked,” Caelior hissed. “You have little comprehension of our plans, do not presume to know otherwise.”

Ravarian was tempted to respond to that. However, he figured that might actually get him killed here. For the most part, the Ethereals he’d worked with had been…well, at least somewhat respectful to his position. Not Caelior though, for whatever reason. And now he wondered if Ethereals like Quisilia were the exception rather than the rule.

_No, Zar’Chon, the Little Storm is just upset that he failed so spectacularly._

Really. Well, he couldn’t really blame him in either case, although Ravarian now felt slightly vindicated because he’d predicted something like this _would_ happen if they simply threw their forces at the Humans. They weren’t _stupid_ , and that was what Caelior had found out the hard way, at the cost of thousands of soldiers.

“Order the retreat.” Ravarian instinctively straightened at the voice of pure command, one that reverberated far longer in his mind than even Caelior’s. Off to the side, looking out into the stars and at Earth in the distance was the last figure in their small command room. An Ethereal who towered over all of them, clad in silver armor and crimson cape, with a scarred greatsword strapped to his back.

“The battle can still be salvaged,” Caelior said, turning to the Battlemaster. “We simply need more-“

“ _Order the retreat_.” The Battlemaster repeated without turning to face him, raising an iron-clad fist to make his point. “You failed. I warned you not to underestimate the Humans and you did exactly that. I warned you what XCOM would do, and you did not prepare accordingly. I warned you that even with our advantages, our victory is not assured.”

The Battlemaster turned around to look down upon the Ethereal, who now almost seemed nervous. “And yet in your arrogance, believed that you knew better. That _you_ would somehow be able to shape reality simply because you wield the Gift. You believed this battle so beneath you that you did not participate in it yourself, and hold yourself above all species. The Zar’Chon warned you of what _I_ warned you about, and you dismissed him simply because he is not one of us.”

The Battlemaster slowly and deliberately walked over to the hooded Ethereal, who Ravarian saw almost take a step back. “You are relieved of your command, Caelior. You lack the restraint, respect and courage required to command soldiers to fight and die for you. You are dismissed. Now _leave_.”

Caelior wisely didn’t protest and almost fled the room, leaving Ravarian with a very smug satisfaction at the sight. But personal feelings aside, this was a setback they needed to recover from. “What is the next move, Battlemaster?” He asked, as the armored Ethereal appraised the holotable.

“We withdraw our forces and converge to hold the Human city of Shibetsu,” he answered. “We will establish an operational base there, which will hold against retaliation. But we can do little more at this point. The Humans won this battle. Let them celebrate their victory, for it was earned, even if it was by incompetence and cowardice on our side. We will convene later, but now I must study their tactics to prepare for the invasion of America.”

“Understood,” Ravarian nodded. “I will begin work immediately.”

“Do so,” the Battlemaster said, turning away and heading for the exit. “Make this the last major victory they enjoy. And begin the acquisition of Special Operators. The Psions must be negated.”

“Yes, Battlemaster,” Ravarian promised, as the Battlemaster left the room and Quisilia vanished from sight, leaving him alone in the cold, dark room.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 8: ADVENT Military

Subsection 8.1: Introduction

 _Purpose:_ The military of ADVENT is to protect and defend from all threats terrestrial and extraterrestrial, by the usage of lethal force; in addition to offensive directives to quickly neutralize rising threats to the state of ADVENT and terminate them quickly and decisively. The ADVENT military answers to the Executive Branch of ADVENT, and to the Chancellor of ADVENT.

 _Structure Overview:_ The structure of the ADVENT Military is briefly composed as follows:

 **ADVENT Military Command:** The central command of the ADVENT Military, composed of all ranking members with positions open for the Chancellor of ADVENT and the Chief of Peacekeeper Operations for increased coordination although the Commander of the ADVENT Military can override the Chancellor of ADVENT should certain conditions be met.

 **ADVENT Divisions:** These are various specialized branches in ADVENT, currently composed of. All further breakdowns are composed within the branches listed below:

  * ADVENT Army Division
  * ADVENT Navy Division
  * ADVENT Air and Space Division
  * ADVENT Special Forces Division
  * ADVENT Special Response Division
  * ADVENT Oversight Division



**ADVENT Legion** : A legion within a division contains at least 100,000 personnel including support staff, and can be larger. Legions are to be used to serve as the standard defense force of a medium-sized country, in addition to additional legions from other divisions.

 **ADVENT Battalion:** A battalion within a division contains at least 50,000 personnel, up to the size of a legion, and would ideally be used to defend regions within countries and also as an occupying force.

 **ADVENT Garrison:** A garrison within a division contains at least 25,000 personal up to the size of a battalion, and is composed of companies.

 **ADVENT Company:** A company contains at least 10,000 personnel, up to the size of a garrison and in composed of units.

 **ADVENT Unit:** A unit contains at a minimum 1,000 soldiers, and composed exclusively of squads excluding all support personnel.

 **ADVENT Squad:** A Squad is composed of between 6-10 soldiers, excluding all supporting personnel, and can be composed of various specializations and combinations.

 _Note_ : All ranks have a single commanding Officer, as well as additional support staff at ranks higher than Unit.               

 _Military Directive Overview_ : The ADVENT Military exists to ensure that those who threaten the state are swiftly and surely dealt with in a lawful manner, and are willing to attack, defend and destroy those who would threaten the citizens of ADVENT and take whatever measures are necessary to ensure that certain threats never rise again.

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First major battle complete. Hope it was good (Next chapter shouldn't take so long to get out). Anyway, most of you probably know about the upcoming expansion for XCOM 2 (Which looks interesting for a multitude of reasons), and might wonder if I plan on incorporating some or any of it into this.
> 
> The short answer is maybe. I'll have to play it to be sure, but there are elements I already have ideas for converting for usage here. Not everything, but it's early enough here that I can feasibly incorporate major expansion elements without it seeming forced. But don't expect those for a while, and I can guarentee it won't be everything since some of it is strictly for the XCOM 2 timeline.
> 
> But no zombies. That is one thing I am *not* going to use whatsoever.


	8. A Crystal Ball

 

_Transport to Mars Forward Observation Station_

It was strange to finally be actually back in a spacecraft. Discounting the times he’d been inside the Sectoid spacecraft while with XCOM, it had been nearly a year since he’d been in a legitimate, _working_ , Vitakarian craft, much less an _Infiltrator_. The craft was only large enough for two, a pilot and passenger, which was why it was often used by the Zararch for operations.

It was very angular like most Vitakara spacecraft, which Nartha suspected had to do with aerodynamics and the like, though if that had any actual effect in space, he didn’t know. What he _did_ know was that it was very fast and would get him to the Mars base that had been established while he’d been on Earth.

According to the pilot Zar’hallin’auicity, the Zar’Chon himself was conducting operations from there, as well as several Ethereals, which immediately concerned him. The good news was that if there _were_ Ethereals at the station, they almost never bothered with anyone outside the leaders, and occasionally some officers, so it was unlikely one would just stop him randomly.

Then again, they could read minds so they might make an exception for him.

What he was more concerned about was that there would be an Ethereal present when the Zar’Chon debriefed him, and if _that_ happened, he was as good as dead. He didn’t know anything they didn’t already know, so XCOM would be as safe as before…but he didn’t exactly want to die. Not when there was a chance for him to make some kind of difference.

Australia being targeted first didn’t surprise him, nor that the Collective had taken it fairly quickly. The Commander was smart enough not to wage a pointless war there when that allowed him time to establish defenses elsewhere. ADVENT was a surprise, but again Nartha was not surprised the Commander had taken steps to establish something like that.

Putting the woman in charge of EXALT in power was surprisingly in character for him, but Nartha did wonder what the others in XCOM thought. He assumed there had been many arguments and exclamations of disbelief. Honestly, Nartha was unsure the Commander would be able to get all the countries to work together peacefully, but the Commander knew that too and likely had a plan.

And speaking of plans, he needed to make sure that he wasn’t overlooking an obvious flaw in his own plan. The Zar’Chon was going to have _questions_ , and Nartha was going to walk a _very_ fine line between the truth and outright lying. The trick would be to make the explanations seem plausible in a way that didn’t raise more questions.

So the obvious one that would come up would be why the information he’d sent was less and less substantial every month, and fortunately an easy answer was that he had no choice since XCOM had become aware of a spy in their midst and he’d had to lay low. A reasonable explanation and one he doubted the Zar’Chon wouldn’t press too hard.

He would probably ask if he’d participated in the defense of the Citadel, and for that Nartha opted to tell the truth, for the simple reason of preserving his cover. It would have been impossible to escape without being caught, and him staying had allowed him to gain access to some very interesting XCOM intel.

It was a gamble, but one the Commander had approved, and by the time they realized something was wrong, it would be too late to change much. The Zar’Chon would probably ask him a few more questions on specific details about XCOM, probably Patricia, the Commander and whoever else he deemed influential. Knowing the Zar’Chon, those would likely be tests since he would likely know the answers well beforehand.

The Zar’Chon was definitely suspicious of him, so he had to assuage that as best he could. All of it would depend on if an Ethereal was present.

He reached into his pocket and felt for the three vials containing the Sectoid Virus; still there, still intact. If everything went well and he was sent back to Vitakar as was normal after operations, there were several military installation stops that had heavy Sectoid traffic, which he fully intended to exploit. Whether was would be enough to start the plague he didn’t know, but he didn’t have a choice. Heading straight to Helion-7 was out of the question, so he had to take more subversive measures.

_“Nartha, we’re close to the Mars Forward Observation Station. Strap in, I’d hate to explain to the Zar’Chon you died to your own stupidity.”_

“Just keep flying,” Nartha smirked, and complied with the instructions. Hallin seemed to have a mildly humorous side, since that was not the first time during the flight where he’d made quips like that. Funnily enough, he almost reminded Nartha of some of the Humans in XCOM. The species in general appeared to use humor far more than most he’d encountered, even in sometimes the most inappropriate of situations.

He did wish the Infiltrator had windows, since he truly did enjoy the sights of spaceflight, and the chance to see Mars up close was something he was curious about, even if it was nothing more than red dust and rocks. Well, he’d probably see it from the station, provided he was still alive. The Infiltrator suddenly became still, and Nartha realized they were probably in the hangar and then it began descending.

The moment it hit the ground, Nartha unstrapped and walked to the exit. “Thanks for the ride,” he told Hallin.

_“Thanks. Good luck with the Zar’Chon.”_

He would need it. Nartha descended from the small ramp that extended from the exit and stepped onto the metal floor of the Hangar. Aliens of all species were rushing about, fixing Sectoid spacecraft and carrying away wounded soldiers. Nartha blinked. Well, something had clearly happened and he was exactly sure what.

The amount of Runianarch medics didn’t exactly bode well for what he would expect to be a ‘victorious’ battle. Had they attacked somewhere and the Humans…won? A victory so soon? He kept his expression neutral as he waded through the hundreds of rushing medics and soldiers, and headed straight to the lift. This station appeared to be built identically to other observation stations, so the Zar’Chon would probably be on the top one.

But he had to make a stop first. It would be an exceptionally bad idea to walk into a debriefing with the Sectoid Virus on him, and thus he had to find a place to stash it. Luckily there were plenty of places that would work fine.

Section 4 was the Scientific and Medical floor, so he selected that on the pad and stepped into the lift. The colorful light flashed around him, accompanied by the low thrumming, and a few seconds later, he was propelled upward until he was in front of the correct floor. A small push from behind propelled him out and he stepped onto the floor without missing a beat.

The Sectoids may not have been a bastion of purity, but they did know how to make excellent tech. Anyway, now he was here, and now he needed to find a place to put this that wouldn’t attract attention. Being a Zararch agent, he did have access to most areas without raising many questions, and whatever had happened provided an acceptable cover for him being here in the first place.

Nartha stepped into one of the emergency rooms where medics were bandaging and treating wounded Vitakara of all races. The wounds clearly weren’t life-threatening, but they certainly weren’t pretty. Many were missing limbs, others were in medically-induced comas and yellow ichor stained most of the white material in the room.

He opened one of the cabinets and made a show of reaching for one of the unstained cloths while placing the vials close to it. It was unlikely that any of the medics would use an unmarked vial, and in the chaos here, they probably wouldn’t see it at all. Closing the cupboard, he turned to give the cloth to one of the Vitakarian medics who froze the instant she saw him before, relaxing slightly.

“Sorry, agent,” she said, taking the cloth and applying it to a wounded Borelian. “I thought…well, you look…”

“Human, I know,” Nartha nodded, realizing that he _did_ really stand out here. He’d almost forgotten that he wasn’t converted back into his normal state. Being human had just been something he’d gotten used to. But he _was_ looking forward to returning to normal. “What happened here? I’ve just returned from Earth.”

“We attacked the country the Humans call Japan,” she explained. “They won.”

He didn’t even have to fake the incredulity in his voice. “They _won_? _How_?”

“ _That_ is a very good question,” she practically spat. “I have no idea. I’m not a tactician either, but some of the soldiers were talking about how badly managed the entire operation was. The Humans _knew_ how to fight us, and when XCOM showed up…” she motioned to the rows of wounded soldiers. “This shouldn’t have happened. How could they…I mean…”

“Whoever was in charge underestimated them,” Nartha frowned, wondering who _had_ been in charge. “I found out down there that underestimating them is a fatal mistake.”

“Go tell that to the Zar’Chon,” she said grimly. “If he won’t come down and see the bodies for himself, maybe he’ll listen to one of his agents.”

She was dangerously close to insubordination of both whatever Ethereal had been in charge, and the Zar’Chon for being borderline accusatory towards him, but Nartha didn’t feel the need to enforce that at this point. He simply nodded. “I will. You have my word.”

“Appreciated,” she muttered before moving to another patient, and he exited the room, deciding it was probably best to see the Zar’Chon now and see if he could figure out what was going on, and hopefully survive his debriefing.

***

_Northern Territory, Australia_

Hot, humid and miserable.

That was exactly what Abby felt as she walked out of the skyranger into the Australian resistance camp. Much of the vegetation that had existed where the tents and temporary structures were had been recently removed and chopped down. But they were still very much in the Australian wilderness, which Abby was somewhat curious about.

She’d heard plenty of stories about the supposed danger of the Australian wilds, and was curious how it matched up to reality. Then again, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. But first she had a job to do, and time was of the essence.

There were plenty of soldiers here milling around, standing guard or performing other tasks. All of them wore green camo of some sort, nothing identifying them as ADF in any way, which she noted was smart. Not that the aliens _wouldn’t_ be able to accurately guess who they were, but no sense giving them an easy answer.

As the skyranger flew off, one soldier rushed over to her. “Agent Gertrude?” He asked, skidding to a stop, his hand twitching at his side, clearly unsure if he was supposed to salute or not. She didn’t really mind either way.

“Yes, that’s me,” she confirmed, appraising the soldier before her. Beard, brown hair, probably been scouting the past few days judging from his dirty clothes and mud splashed across his face. “And you are?”

“Jonah Fillion,” he answered. “I’ll take you to Harper’s team right away.”

She nodded and they began walking through the camp. Abby didn’t fail to note the white sheets over bodies and the general exhaustion that seemed to permeate the air. At times she wondered if her enhanced sight didn’t give her _too_ many details of the people around her. Just from their facial cues she could fairly easily deduce what they had been or were feeling. Or at least make a very educated guess.

“It’s not good, is it?” She asked.

The young soldier grimaced. “The aliens are in control of our home. That alone is…difficult. The fact that we’re understaffed, resources are strained and everyone seems to have forgotten about us already in favor of…well, the rest of the world, yeah, things are ‘not good’ as you put it.”

“Not everyone has forgotten,” she reminded him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He shot her a weary look, then sighed. “True, and I do appreciate that. But, uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re only one woman. Probably very good at your job, but only one.”

He did admittedly have a point. Still…“You’d be surprised what one person can do.”

“If you say so,” Jonah shrugged. “But if you do, then hey, I’ll take it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Abby promised. “Aside from Harper, anyone else I should know about?”

“That other XCOM agent, Hari May was here,” Jonah answered, nodding out into the wilderness. “She left a day or so ago. Might be on assignment.”

Right, Zhang had said there was another agent, whose mission appeared to be different from hers. “Has ADVENT sent anyone?”

“Yeah, some old guy,” Jonah said. “Some kind of tactician I think, though I’d never heard of him before. Lucas Harrison, name ring a bell?”

Abby shook her head. “No. Never heard of him.”

“He’s a bit strange,” Jonah admitted as they entered one of the temporary structures. “Brought a whole bunch of equipment that no one else is allowed to go near. Speaks a whole bunch of languages too. He had a fluent conversation in Spanish with Hari, and was talking to some Japanese official in their language. Guess he’s been useful since Harper keeps letting him stay.”

Interesting, but he probably wouldn’t be essential in whatever she was to do. “They’re through here.” Jonah gestured to the room in front separated by curtains. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Abby told him, and stepped through the curtains into the central command for the Australian resistance. It was surprisingly clean, albeit minimalist. The walls were a bare plastic white, with some maps of both local and global varieties posted, most with markings in blue and red sharpie. In the center was a wooden table with loose paper, pens, markers and files, with a map of Australia in the center of it.

Lincoln Harper, former Marshal of the ADF and now leader of the Australian Resistance stood over it, hands resting on the table as he poured over the map, his face as drawn and haggard as the image from the file Zhang had given her. Behind him was the only other piece of furniture in the room; a stand with a dull turquoise sphere on it, which seems to reflect the light around it, giving it a sort of underwater rippling effect.

“Marshal Harper?” She asked, making him look up. The man gave a weary nod.

“Agent, glad you made it safely. Send Director Zhang my thanks.” He began walking over to greet her properly. “Would you prefer to get started right away, or get settled here first?”

“I think it’s best we get to work,” Abby said. “The aliens won’t wait for us.”

Lincoln gave her a lopsided smile. “No, they won’t,” he said as he moved back to the table, with her close behind. “I appreciate the initiative you agents have. We need that. However, I do have some good news I just received. The aliens attacked Japan and were driven off.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s great!”

“It most certainly is,” a new voice interjected, one deep but weathered from age. Abby turned to see a new man enter the room, probably the ADVENT advisor Jonah had told her about. He was definitely an elder, with a full head of white hair and a wrinkled face. But surprisingly, he seemed extremely healthy, or maybe she just thought that because he was slightly taller than her. More than that, she couldn’t get any indication of what he was feeling from observing him. Not many people had that kind of control.

“Agent Gertrude, this is Lucas Harrison, who the Chancellor graciously sent to help us,” Lincoln introduced, nodding to the man as he took a side of the table between them. “He’s been helpful in planning our current strategy.”

“And with Agent Gertrude here, we can start putting it into motion,” Lucas finished with a slight smile, clasping his hands behind his back. “Miss Gertrude, how familiar are you with Australia?”

“Not very,” she admitted. “The area is new to me, but I learn and adapt quickly.”

“How practical,” Lucas mused, looking down at the map. “I was more referring to your knowledge of the country itself. This continent is a fascinating place to study.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been here before?”

“Oh yes, many times,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “The ecosystem in particular is an interest of mine, and one I will exploit here.”

“How?” Abby asked, crossing her arms. “It’s not exactly something we could control. And…well, this wildlife. Not exactly-“

“That’s where you’re wrong, though I don’t blame you,” Lincoln interrupted. “The aliens are surprisingly vulnerable to many of the same toxins we are, and Australia is home to some of the deadliest animals. Attract them to the right places, and they’ll take care of the aliens for us.”

“That still doesn’t explain how they can be controlled,” Abby insisted. “Or have you created a kind of lure?”

“Indeed,” Lucas nodded. “A creation of mine, modified for our needs. Initially I made it to repel all insect and dangerous wildlife away. I simply reversed the process to attract them. Almost too simple, though the range is still a slight issue.”

“Which admittedly still needs to be proven,” Lincoln said slowly, eyeing Lucas with a slightly suspicious glare. “You’ve been helpful here, but that particular strategy is one I’m skeptical of.”

“Of course,” he answered smoothly. “Which is why I want to run my field test now. Agent Gertrude and I will go to Warburton and prove it. Should it work, my theory is proved correct. Should it fail, then nothing is lost.”

Abby and Lincoln both looked at him. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to come along,” Abby suggested tactfully, not sure what he was thinking. “I’m more than capable of doing it on my own.”

“It’s far too much of a risk for one like you,” Lincoln pointed out. “You _know_ how dangerous it is, and, to be blunt, you’re not in your prime.”

“I’m not as young as I was, it’s true,” he chuckled. “But I assure you, I’m perfectly capable to taking care of myself, and I will also remind you that I answer to the Chancellor, not you, and she has fully sanctioned any actions I take, including participating on operations.”

“My operations involve stealth,” Abby stated, staring the man in the eyes. “To also be blunt, you would compromise me. It’s too much of a risk that will get both of us killed.”

“And I don’t think you’re in a position to say that for certain until you see for yourself,” he defended easily. “I assure you, I am no stranger to the work you are familiar with. I promise to not be a hindrance.”

Abby looked away and down at the map, wondering how she could possibly handle this. Part of her wanted to continue to flat out refuse, since this was clearly a bad idea. Then again, it might create problems between ADVENT and XCOM and that was something that wouldn’t help anyone. Of course, the same thing would happen if Lucas was killed on the mission, and despite his assurances, Abby wasn’t quite the idiot he was hoping.

Another possibility is that it would sour relations here, since Lucas would not forget this…so perhaps her best solution was to try and perform the mission, take him along, and make sure he followed her instructions. A babysitting op was _not_ what she had in mind, but it was maybe the only way this would go without it turning into an incident of some kind.

“Fine,” she relented. “But if you’re coming along, you’re following my orders _exactly_. Understand?”

“That is fair, agent,” Lucas conceded. “In which case, I suggest we should prepare. Harper, would you describe our operation zone?”

“Certainly,” he nodded, although he still didn’t seem comfortable with Lucas accompanying her. “Let’s begin.”

***

_Zar’Chon Chambers, Mars Forward Observation Station_

The doors slid open soundlessly as Nartha stepped into the circular chambers the Zar’Chon was so fond of. Nartha wasn’t sure if that was something all Zar’Chons had, or if it was a personal preference for the current one. It was elegant in its simplicity; he could appreciate that for sure. Half the chambers opened into windows out into space, lighting was minimal (if a bit overdramatic), though likely because the room was set up perfectly for displaying multiple holograms at once, from a control console in the middle of the room, and displayed from the soft blue lights above.

The Zar’Chon himself stood in the middle of the room, facing a hologram of an XCOM soldier standing and pointing at…something in the distance, while being oddly distorted. “Zar’Chon; reporting for debriefing.”

“I know,” the Zar’Chon answered without turning, and motioned him over with a gesture. “Do you recognize this soldier?”

Nartha walked over to the hologram to get a better look. Red armor, scarred, odd distortion, the autorifle on the back…combined with the helmet, and that he’d spent enough time in XCOM to tell the slight differences between males and females who wore the armor, there was really only one person who this could be, and who would make a gesture like that in battle. “Patricia Trask,” he said after a few seconds. “A psion. I assumed they learned the hard way not to underestimate her.”

“You failed to mention she could effectively neutralize an entire army,” the Zar’Chon said slowly, turning to face him fully.

Nartha frowned. “She’s powerful, but not _that_ powerful. Unless she’s getting training from an Ethereal, I’m not sure how she could possibly do that. At least I didn’t note anything like that.”

The Zar’Chon pursed his lips. “It appears she’s more powerful than either of us assumed, then. I presume you saw the bodies.”

It wasn’t a question, since the Zar’Chon knew he wasn’t blind. He wanted to know how much Nartha knew already. “We launched an attack on Japan, which failed. I went to the Medical floor to get an extent of the damage. From what accounts I heard, the battle was…poorly managed and dysfunctional…” Nartha paused. “Which is surprising. We have an advantage over the Humans. How did we fail?”

“The one who orchestrated the attack is no longer in a position of authority,” the Zar’Chon stated, turning to shut off the hologram. “The Battlemaster has taken over operations for the time being. Japan is a setback, but in terms of overall loss, this will not be felt.”

Nartha was extremely curious who _had_ orchestrated the attack. Since he had apparently been dismissed, it likely wasn’t an Ethereal since if an Ethereal _was_ in charge, they probably wouldn’t have lost. Which really only left one of the Runianarch or Lurainian leaders. Perhaps one of the mysterious Andromedons he’d heard so much about.

Either way, the news that the Battlemaster was now in charge was _extremely_ bad for the Humans. “Is he here?” Nartha asked.

“Yes,” the Zar’Chon answered. “But currently planning. In the meantime, we have much to discuss about your time in XCOM.”

“That we do, Zar’Chon,” Nartha agreed, steeling himself to lie to the leader of spies. At least there were no Ethereals here, so he _could_ do this. “What do you want clarified?”

“Your intel became much sparser the longer you were undercover,” the Zar’Chon stated, clasping his hands behind his back and looking down at Nartha expressionlessly. “Why is that?”

“Because XCOM learned there was a mole,” Nartha explained calmly. “Which I know shouldn’t have been possible, but they appeared to have learned more about Ethereal Script, and that subsequently made breaking our cipher easier. Even if they didn’t know _who_ sent it, they knew someone _was_. I did not anticipate that, and attempted less visible methods. By the end I suspected they had broken the code and didn’t want to reveal what I had discovered.”

“You do recall we had other means of communicating,” the Zar’Chon reminded him neutrally. “That was not the only cipher you could have used.”

“No, but it was the most inconspicuous,” Nartha answered, thankful he’d spent time preparing for this. “The Citadel was one of the most secure locations I have been in. _Everything_ sent out of there is seen, it is just a matter of what is the most visible. If I had switched to a different cipher, that _would_ have been noticed and perhaps spooked the Commander into doing something drastic. I know you know he is certainly capable of such in order to catch a spy. I believe they wanted to isolate and identify me, and then feed me false information.”

“And how do I know that they didn’t already?”

Nartha’s lips curled into a small smile. “Because you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. You would consider me compromised and I would have been executed or brought for interrogation.”

Now the Zar’Chon gave a small smile of amusement. “A good answer. But the information you sent to me recently was so vague that I would not be able to verify what exactly it was, let alone if it was a trap or not. Did you learn anything substantial?”

“I did,” Nartha nodded. “Something that could affect the course of the war.”

The Zar’Chon waited. “I trust you will share it, and that you have proof?”

“I certainly do,” Nartha nodded and pulled out a Human flash drive. “I’m certain you know that XCOM is interested in genetic modification. The data here shows exactly what they are researching and what they are planning. For better or worse, Dr. Vahlen is very detailed.”

The Zar’Chon took the drive and placed it in his pocket. “This will prove useful. Good work. And is there more?”

“There is,” Nartha confirmed, pulling out three vials of clear liquid. “XCOM is planning to exploit the genetic similarity of the Sectoids. They’ve created a plague that if released, will kill most of the Sectoid species, perhaps even the Hive Commanders. I’ve seen the results, Zar’Chon, its real.”

The Zar’Chon furrowed his brow and took one of the vials and held it up. “A clever move by XCOM, and an effective one despite the dangers of bioweapons such as these. Curious the Commander would take such a risk, especially since it could end up killing his own species.”

Nartha snorted. “I believe the Commander had the same thought. Do you really believe the Commander _isn’t_ using Human test subjects?”

“A fair point,” the Zar’Chon admitted, pocketing the vial. “But it is still risky, although given his profile, I am not surprised genocide is in his list of tactics. His pragmatism is almost admirable.”

“Most of XCOM agrees,” Nartha nodded. “And I believe he isn’t going to receive much opposition to wiping out the Sectoids. The assault on the Sectoid Hive pretty much cemented their fate in the eyes of most Humans. Pacifism will not last in this war, and we cannot rely on that.”

“No, we have seen the Humans will turn violent should circumstances demand it,” the Zar’Chon mused. “Not since the Andromedons has a species been so willing to fight amongst itself.” Nartha was silent at that, largely since he didn’t know enough about the Andromedons to comment.

“You met and spoke with the Commander, correct?” The Zar’Chon asked after a few minutes, turning to face the window into the void. “What are your impressions?”

How to sum up the Commander? “Disarming,” Nartha began. “Whatever expectation you have of the Commander, he is unlikely to live up to it at first. I suspect he tailors his initial personality based on whoever he is speaking to at the time. If you walk in expecting a raving war criminal, he will be a calm and rational. Expect a detached leader and he will make himself as personable as possible, as if he were one of the soldiers. He has no issue interacting with those of a lower rank, and will elevate those who show merit.”

Nartha paused. “But the most dangerous trait he possesses is his _persuasiveness_. The Commander has an answer for everything, justified to the best of his ability that is difficult to refute. This persuasiveness breeds confidence, and with that, _loyalty_. XCOM _trusts_ the Commander, regardless of what they are asked to do, because they believe they are _doing the right thing_. The Commander tolerates opposing opinions, but he will utterly take them apart if they come into conflict with his own.”

The Zar’Chon didn’t move as he finished. “It’s not apparent at first,” he finished. “But the Commander is _ruthless_. He is perfectly willing to murder half of the human race if it means victory over us. Civilians are just unfortunate casualties; cities are mere staging areas; politicians are puppets that are used and discarded as he deems fit and the world is simply a chessboard where land is strategically gained and sacrificed. Even his own soldiers are, at the end of the day, mere pawns in his game of war. You are not dealing with a regular Human, Zar’Chon, you’re dealing with the _Commander_.”

This description made the entire situation seem so very ironic. He could attest to the Commander’s unwavering confidence and persuasiveness because he had fallen under it himself. He knew, intrinsically, that he was just another tool in the Commander’s arsenal, but was perfectly content with that. Pawns could be useful, after all, and better a pawn to the leader who would change the status quo than a leader who would simply endure the continuing farce.

“That matches up with what I have learned about him,” the Zar’Chon nodded. “Brilliant and ruthless, a dangerous combination and an unexpected rival. I did not expect the Humans to put up this much resistance, but I suppose with the right people in charge, much is possible. Let us move on. Patricia Trask.”

“I don’t know as much about her,” Nartha admitted truthfully. “Soon after officially becoming a psion, she began working much closer with the Commander. I wasn’t close friends with her to begin with, but she was a very…analytical woman. An excellent Squad Overseer, and competent psion. She did beat a Hive Commander…and an Ethereal.”

“Which means you were there when we attacked the Citadel,” the Zar’Chon noted, turning back to him. “Why is that? Especially since you received the extraction order.”

“You gave me little more than a day to leave,” Nartha defended coldly. “You don’t just _leave_ the Citadel. All I would have accomplished was getting myself captured and that wouldn’t have been ideal for any of us. I would have needed at least a week’s warning, and even then there were risks. Yes, I did fight for XCOM, but only to preserve my cover. In fact, that was the only reason I was able to acquire the information and virus you now hold in your hand. The genetic labs were off-limits to soldiers normally, but no one really cared when you were attacking.”

The Zar’Chon’s expression didn’t change, but he gave a brief nod. “In retrospect, you are right. It is unfortunate you were put in that situation, but considering what you acquired, perhaps it is for the best.”

Nartha held in a sigh of relief. “What are your opinions on the soldiers,” the Zar’Chon asked suddenly. “As a whole, what can we expect?”

Oh dear. “The soldiers are…complicated,” Nartha sighed. “They come from across the world, have their own opinions, dislikes and conflicts. But they do have a tendency to unite, and the bond between XCOM soldiers is one of the strongest I’ve seen. People from regions who should be enemies will work together for the common cause of, in their view, ‘defending Earth’. It is a strong sentiment that is not easily broken.”

“You sound almost envious,” the Zar’Chon noted.

“Perhaps I am,” Nartha admitted. “We both know such camaraderie isn’t common in the Zararch.”

“For good reason,” the Zar’Chon agreed. “But I agree that the ideal is admirable, so long as it doesn’t affect you. Did you become close to any of them?”

“I became friends with some of them,” Nartha said, thinking of Samuel and Shun, one now dead, the other quite possibly the same. “But as a means to an end, of course. Some of the Humans aren’t too different from us.”

“I find that hard to believe,” the Zar’Chon said. “But you have spent more time among them, so I will accept that as a possibility. Regardless, despite the difficulties, your mission has produced results, and I will mark it as a success.”

He’d done it. “Thank you, Zar’Chon. Where will I be deployed next?”

“For now, you’ll get your standard reprieve and return to Vitakar,” the Zar’Chon answered, turning back to the window. “When you are ready to return, I suspect the Humans will be largely brought under control.”

“I appreciate that,” Nartha said, thankful his plan was falling into place. “It will be good to be myself again, and to see Vitakar.”

“I suspect your family will also be happy to see you actually alive,” the Zar’Chon nodded. “I already have a team ready to return you to your normal self. Utilize it before you leave, if you wish.”

“I’ll do so,” Nartha said, relieved. “Thank you once again.”

“Don’t mention it,” the Zar’Chon replied coolly. “Dismissed, agent.”

***

The moment he heard the doors close, Ravarian turned around to see Quisilia also looking at the exit Nartha took. It was always bizarre just how Quisilia operated. His habit of toying with various agents by literally standing behind him the entire time they talked was initially disconcerting, especially since they never once wondered if something was off.

And he was quite aware he wasn’t immune to this.

“What did you think?” Quisilia asked, turning to him. He sounded amused, oddly enough.

Ravarian pulled out the vials Nartha had given him. “His story lines up for the most part. He is definitely not telling the whole truth, but in light of what he brought, I think that can be overlooked.”

“Why?” Quisilia questioned. “If he is lying…”

“It has nothing to do with his loyalty,” Ravarian clarified. “But don’t think he was as unaffected by his time with the Humans as he claimed. Even among aliens and enemies, it is always a risk to form attachments. His time on Vitakar should dispel that influence.”

“How optimistic,” Quisilia said dryly. “And what do you make of the information he brought?”

Ravarian frowned at the Ethereal. Quisilia didn’t normally ask this many rhetorical questions, especially since he’d likely read Nartha’s mind during their discussion. What exactly was the point of this? “This Sectoid bioweapon is dangerous and clever. Depending on how it is constructed, it could be just as deadly to us as the Sectoids. We’ll need to create a counter immediately.”

“Genetic bioweapons are dangerous,” Quisilia agreed. “But you will accomplish absolutely nothing if you use the ‘bioweapon’ Nartha provided.”

Ravarian sighed. “Please enlighten me why, Quisilia.”

“Because Nartha is a traitor,” Quisilia answered, almost smugly. “He is an agent of XCOM.”

Ravarian stiffened, swinging his head to stare at the motionless Ethereal. Impossible. That was his first reaction. There was no reason he could see _why_ Nartha would betray the Collective. What could he possibly hope to accomplish? But Quisilia wouldn’t lie about something like this. Despite the Ethereal enjoying toying with people, he was one of the few exceptions, _especially_ with matters this serious.

“How?” Ravarian demanded incredulously. “Is it some kind of conditioning?” It was admittedly a rarely researched method, at least for applications in intelligence work, but he could easily see the Commander attempting it, or more likely, _psionically_ influencing him to betray the Collective.

“No,” Quisilia said bluntly. “Nartha is doing it entirely of his own free will, which is…surprising, even to me. He certainly was not lying when he attested to the persuasiveness of the Commander.”

Ravarian pursed his lips in a hard line. “Then why? I doubt it was a simple conversation with the Commander that turned him into a traitor.”

“His primary motivation is surprisingly noble, in his eyes,” Quisilia explained, almost letting a chuckle escape him. “It is to, ah, _free_ the Vitakara from the oppressive regime of the tyrannical Ethereals.”

Ravarian stared at the Ethereal in disbelief, then shook his head in disappointment. “Foolish and concerning. Clearly Nartha has no idea what a _truly_ tyrannical species is if… _that_ is his reasoning.”

“He does not trust us,” Quisilia elaborated. “He seems to think that the Vitakara are…under some form of enslavement to us, and we take advantage of that.”

“Shortsighted,” Ravarian muttered. “He appears not to understand that this is a _Collective_ , one which the Vitakara are a _part of_. Of _course_ we answer to the leaders of one.” He sighed. “This is extremely concerning on a number of levels. He was one of my best agents, and if _he_ has those sentiments in the back of his mind, then others certainly do as well.”

“The sentiment of a Vitakara species independent from us is not uncommon,” Quisilia revealed. “But I tolerate it since most will not act on it.”

“You should have shared that with me,” Ravarian said, glaring at the Ethereal. “This is perhaps the worst time for that, because if Nartha is a traitor, the only reason he is here, and why XCOM let him go, is to cause trouble for us. And worse, he _knows_ that an Ethereal can die, he’s _seen_ what the Humans can do. With that information he could inspire enough Vitakara to act.”

“Which is likely why the Commander sent him,” Quisilia agreed. “Although it appears he did not anticipate me being here.”

“Well, it essentially makes this useless,” Ravarian scowled, glaring down at the vial. “And the data he acquired is likely forged as well.”

“Not entirely,” Quisilia disputed, extending a hand from his robe and the flash drive suddenly flew towards it. “Nartha didn’t lie about what XCOM was doing. The Sectoid bioweapon is very real, and he plans to distribute it himself. He hid it and is likely going to retrieve the actual bioweapon now.”

Ravarian opened a panel on his wrist to prepare to make a call. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be very cooperative when we interrogate him-“

“Wait,” Quisilia interrupted, raising a hand. “Let him go for now. Nartha presents us with an opportunity we shouldn’t waste.”

It didn’t take long for him to come to the same conclusion. “You want to use him. That is dangerous for an agent like him.”

“We have very little to lose,” Quisilia stated. “We will extract nothing from Nartha aside from what we already know. But if we let him orchestrate his rebellion, we gather all the dissenters into one place and when the time is right, execute them all.”

“A risky play,” Ravarian warned, closing the panel on his wrist. “But if we _could_ use him to wipe out the Nulorian…he might be useful.”

“If he becomes too much of an issue, I can simply kill him,” Quisilia said. “We know he is a traitor and he believes he is undetected. Let him perform his mission. Let him try and poison the Sectoids. We can simply lock down contaminated areas to prevent the spread of the virus. Besides, I want to see how effective this plague is. Sectoids are easily replaced.”

“I’m not comfortable with letting him go,” Ravarian said. “But I see the logic, and the final decision is up to you.”

“Then let us use the XCOM spy,” Quisilia confirmed. “The Nulorian will never reveal themselves to a foe, but one like him they might expose themselves, along with any other traitors in your species.”

“Regardless, I want a Special Operator put on him,” Ravarian ordered. “We still have Earth to deal with. You said the others would be arriving shortly?”

“Yes,” Quisilia confirmed. “Momentous times are ahead, Zar’Chon. It is a wonderful feeling.”

Ravarian didn’t visibly respond either way. “If you say so. In which case I should update our Earth databases. Knowing the Battlemaster, he will not attack without the latest intel.”

***

_Medical Floor, Mars Forward Observation Station_

“Stand, walk several steps and return,” the medic instructed Nartha and he complied, taking care not to trip over everything. He’d thought adjustment back to a pure Vitakarian would not be difficult, since the differences between Humans and them were largely visual.

As it turned out, there were actually several very important differences, one of which was that everything was so much _brighter_ now that his eyes were back to normal. They were also a distinct improvement from human sight, but he still winced after initially waking up. It was more disorienting than any flashbang, but the medic was helping him out just fine, and now he was getting more used to it.

“Excellent,” she encouraged, setting him down, picking up a tablet with a haptic display. “I took all of your vitals already, so all that remains is to log you into the system. This your first conversion?”

“Yes it is,” he confirmed with a nod. “An…interesting experience for sure.”

She grimaced. “You’re lucky Vitakarians and Humans looks so much alike. It’s much harder on Dath’Haram, or worse, Cobrarian agents. The latter often have psychological issues when converting back. Most of the time there needs to be psionic intervention.”

“You’ve done this before?” Nartha asked curiously.

“Not independently,” she admitted, setting the tablet down. “But I’ve been trained and seen it before. I find it to be a fascinating process, although I doubt you would feel the same way.”

Nartha chuckled. “Probably not.”

“I’ve never asked,” she said. “How different is it? We don’t look that different from them, is it actually like that?”

Nartha appraised the Vitakarian medic. “The biggest difference is sight,” he explained. “Everything is much…darker, for Humans. They can’t see as well as we can. I almost forgot what it was like until I woke up.” He ran a hand over his bald scalp. “Hair is interesting as well. It’s…not irritating or anything like that, just…there. Humans have a fascination with it though. You would be surprised how creative they are.”

“Yes, it’s almost sad we’re fighting them,” she said wistfully. “They seem fascinating. Not brutes like Andromedons or Mutons. They have culture and history. I do want to visit Earth once the war is over and the Humans are assimilated. What’s it like?”

“Earth?” He wondered. “Very…ah, _diverse_. Similar to Vitakar, actually. They have deserts, jungles and frozen landscapes. They seem to have been spared from most of the terrible weather as well. The worst they get are snowstorms and hurricanes,” he paused. “Although they like to call their snowstorms ‘blizzards’, but compared to Vitakar…it’s a snowstorm.”

Her tablet beeped and she sighed. “Thanks for talking with me, agent, but it seems I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Of course,” he said, standing up. “What is your name?”

“Zar’carida’noizar,” she answered, inclining her head.

“Keep up the good work,” he told her. “The more you can keep alive, the better.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He had no wish for his species to die in this war, and any saved was one more he might be able to turn away from the Collective. Now that he was free to leave, he had to make plans. The first step would be to disperse the Sectoid bioweapon in a discreet manner.

Since he could chart whichever path he wanted to Vitakar, he saw no reason not to take several stops near Sectoid territory. If the bioweapon was as potent as Vahlen claimed, then it would spread in days and not take full effect till much later, which unfortunately meant that he wouldn’t hear about the results for a while.

Once he was on Vitakar, things were going to get tricky. He would see his family, of course, perhaps even persuade them to help, which was sadly unlikely, but eventually begin work on his own. He’d have a limited amount of time to work before the Zar’Chon called him back, so he had to use it wisely.

Which left one obvious path: the Nulorian. The outcasts of Vitakar and the closest thing to organized crime that existed. That was being generous, compared to ‘organized crime’ on Earth, since the Nulorian would likely be little better than a well-organized gang if he was being honest. But they’d eluded the Zararch for decades and hated the Ethereals, so their motives weren’t unknown.

The issue was going to be getting them to trust him, and convincing them to help in the first place. _Someone_ had to be working with them, otherwise the Zararch would have destroyed them by now. So he needed to find whoever that was and convince _them_ to help. After that…well, he’d go from there. There was virtually no chance of turning any Sectoids or Mutons against the Collective, though he might have to actually learn a little about the Andromedons before dismissing them as well. They might like to keep to themselves, but if there was a chance…he had to take it.

Satisfied he had an outline, he stood and walked off to retrieve the vials of the Sectoid bioweapon he’d stashed earlier. He knew he was now on borrowed time before the Ethereals took notice, and began hunting him down.

***

_Warburton, Australia_

To his credit, Abby had to relent that Lucas actually did seem to be keeping up quite well. It had been a long ride, trek and hit to where they were, but at least with the sun down, it was at least tolerable weather-wise. And after seeing a spider the size of her hand, she’d avoided looking too closely at any one surface for too long, just for her own sanity.

Now the more luscious areas had given way to a sandy arid area, where vegetation-and cover-was scarce and with the small town up ahead, it was time to stop and think through what they were going to do. Abby supposed it was time for Lucas to reveal his master strategy. If she was being perfectly honest, his idea sounded ridiculous, but given what XCOM had been able to accomplish, who was to say he couldn’t create some wildlife-attracting chemical.

“And there it is,” Lucas said wistfully. “Ground zero. What do you see?”

Abby focused in the distance, thankful her enhanced vision was actually coming in handy here. “Mutons are stationed around the perimeter. Looks like there are Vitakara snipers on roofs and I see several patrols, mostly composed of Muton and Borelians.”

“Do you see an Andromedon?” He asked.

She scanned the area. “No. Is that the leader?”

“I suspect so,” Lucas said with a nod. “They are well-suited to harsh environments like this. Much like the Mutons, I suppose.”

Abby began to nod, then frowned. “How did you know there was an Andromedon here?”

“Harper has his people scout the nearby towns,” he answered with a shrug. “I read up on the reports before coming. Nothing nefarious, I assure you.”

“Right,” Abby said, slightly mollified she’d assumed something was amiss. She appeared to be getting legitimately paranoid, but wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. “Don’t see any Humans though.”

“With a town this small, they probably relocated them,” Lucas noted, kneeling down and looking into the distance. “It’s one of the reasons I choose it. No chance of collateral damage; only aliens.”

Abby realized that she hadn’t even considered what she would do if there _had_ been civilians in the area. She’d been focused only on the mission…she closed her eyes, trying to push away the guilt she felt at the realization. _Nothing would have changed._ A voice told her. _The mission still takes priority, civilians or no._

The voice of practicality talking again. At one point she had almost heard Ruth’s voice telling her that, now it was her own. Maybe there was no turning back now. She slowly relaxed, steeling herself from the conflicting emotions. There was a mission to complete. “I suppose it’s time to tell me what you need to do,” she said, her tone conspicuously flat. “You going to show what’s in that bag now.”

“Not yet,” he said with a slight smile, oblivious to her tone. “The first thing we need to do is get to the center of the town.”

Abby frowned. “Why?”

He tapped his pack. “Range, of course. This will need to envelop the entire town, not simply part of it.”

“I got that,” Abby said, eyeing him suspiciously. “But how is this…chemical…so strong? Is it airborne? Aren’t we risking getting caught in the blast?”

He smiled. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to reveal it sooner or later. The truth, agent Gertrude, is that I lied. There is no miracle chemical, it was simply an excuse to get you to drag me out here.”

Abby stared at him in disbelief, debating how justifiable it would be to punch the old man in the face. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in this case,” he said, his smile now infuriating. “But it was not a complete lie. I fully intend to take this town, but not in the way you think.”

“Then I suggest you better explain before I break your nose,” Abby hissed furiously. “You know I actually could have been doing something _useful_ right now?”

“Yes, yes, you could have gathered some intel that would have no doubt changed little,” Lucas said dismissively. “Useful, and Harper would probably love it. However, I would prefer to ensure that Australia falls, and regular espionage work is tiresome. I prefer direct action.”

“Direct action, huh,” Abby scowled, pulling out her laser pistol and shoving it at the old man. “Fine. Go out there and shoot all those aliens.” When he didn’t move, she continued her low rant. “Oh, you don’t want to do that? There is a _reason_ espionage is ‘tiresome’; because we prefer _not to die_!”

“Calm down,” he placated, not perturbed in the least. “Let me explain before you chew me out. Although it is entertaining.”

“Who _are_ you?” She demanded. “Are you even _from_ ADVENT?”

“Yes, I am,” he confirmed. “Although I was EXALT long before. Officially, at least.”

Wonderful. A fucking EXALT lunatic was now working with her, had dragged her out here on a lie and had the gall to stand there smiling as if everything was fine. “Tell me what’s going on or I’m going to knock you unconscious and send you back to Saudia.”

“If you insist,” he said, pulling off his backpack and opening it. “XCOM has yet to learn this, but there are specialized UFOs called Overseers. Actually, I take that back, you likely _have_ seen one. I believe the Ravaged One used it.”

“What’s special about it?” Abby demanded.

“They are the personal transports of Ethereals,” Lucas said, reaching in and pulling out a clear black sphere. “Within each one are spheres such as this one, which are normally used for communication. The exact science I am unaware of, suffice to say that it can also act as a power amplifier for psions.”

Alright, he was making some sense. “I assume that’s what that orb is?”

“Yes,” Lucas confirmed. “Most are already powered by psionic energy in the Overseer UFOs, and emit a purple glow. Empty ones are just that – empty. But a trained psion can create a feedback loop of sorts with the artifact, and accomplish the same thing.”

“Right,” Abby nodded. “Just one problem – neither of us are psionic. I know, I was tested and came back negative. EXALT didn’t have psions. Why even go to all this trouble? Why not tell Harper? Or XCOM?”

“Ah, that is where you are mistaken, agent,” he said, smiling. “One of us is indeed capable of using this artifact.”

Abby furrowed her eyebrows then froze. “Impossible.”

He smiled and the orb began levitating above his palm. “It feels good not to hide it any longer, at least for a little while.”

Abby was stunned. Questions blazed through her mind. “How are you…? Why didn’t…?”

The orb fell back into his hand and he gently placed it in the pack. “Let’s start walking,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. “It will take a short walk before we are in danger of being spotted. I’ll answer some of your obvious questions along the way.”

She bit her tongue and followed. “Now, I’m not entirely sure how my psionic ability was awakened,” he began. “I had an encounter as a child with a strange object, so I can only presume that was the cause, but I was soon able to do things others couldn’t. I’m sure you’re familiar as to what, so I’ll skip the boring bits of my life, suffice to say I trained myself and kept it a secret.”

They stepped over a rotting branch while he continued. “I found EXALT completely by accident, but decided I could make a difference there. History has always been fascinating, and I saw a chance to influence it in the future with them. So I officially became the Chronicler of EXALT, keeper of their secrets. I manipulated the leaders at the time into believing that they had always had such a position, and I was simply the latest to fill it.”

“They didn’t know what you really were,” Abby stated.

“There was no reason for them to,” Lucas said wistfully. “I was careful not to abuse my abilities too much, such actions draw attention, no matter how careful you are. But I provided nudges, guidance when needed and helped ensure the organization was strong enough to withstand most threats. Of course I was unsuccessful in some cases, but in the end, EXALT has fulfilled its purpose and I am free to do what I wish.”

“And so what _are_ you going to do?” Abby asked. “You still haven’t explained why you can’t just explain this to Harper? And you’re a psion! Why not join XCOM?”

“Because to take Australia, we need an army,” Lucas explained. “And I don’t believe this war will allow XCOM or ADVENT a timely liberation. So the army must be of aliens under my command. The army will start here, and I will grow it. I only need you to help establish _my_ base of operations, and then Harper can send you on whatever operations he wants.”

He paused. “As for XCOM? I do not want to answer to them. I am not unconvinced that the Commander will simply try to execute me because I was part of EXALT. I will do my part to fight the aliens, but I will not be a pawn in the Commander’s game. And it goes without saying that I would prefer you keep this knowledge to yourself.”

Abby frowned. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Expected,” he answered. “We’ll discuss that later. In the meantime, we need to prepare.”

They knelt down, just outside the town where she could watch the aliens making the rounds. “Shoot the ones on the roof,” Lucas suggested. “The ones on the ground won’t be difficult. Follow my lead.”

He stood and began walking forward out in the open. Abby winced and quickly followed, laser pistol in hand. The Vitakarian on a nearby roof was turned away, so she took the shot and fired, and the sizzling beam burned right into the skull and he fell dead. She quickly aimed at the next alien sniper and repeated the shot, accomplishing the same thing.

The Muton patrol noticed them walking forward, but Lucas simply raised a hand and they froze. Just like Patricia, his eyes were a glowing purple and the air vibrated about him as he took control of the aliens. He then waved them along, and the Mutons shambled past, oblivious to them.

Abby nodded in approval and they proceeded forth. Any rooftop soldiers were quickly taken out by her, and Lucas took control of any other aliens they ran into. Eventually they reached a house, a lone one on the end of a sandy cul-de-sac. “We might draw attention,” Lucas warned as they entered. “This is where you’ll come in. This will take all of my concentration, defend me if they come.”

“I have a pistol,” she reminded him as she took a position at the door. “I can’t hold off an army.”

“Then delay them,” he said, as he pulled out the orb and set it on a wooden table. “Be ready, agent, I’m going to start now.”

She nodded, but couldn’t help but watch as he began…whatever he was doing. His body was suddenly surrounded in a shimmering purple and a faint blue spark in the orb appeared. Then the humming started. Imperceptible at first, but it was growing louder and louder until it was literally all she heard. It was silent, but deafening at the same time.

She gritted her teeth as it persisted, and a roar in the distance caught her attention and she glanced out to see a squad of five Mutons charging towards the house, roaring in apparent pain. She aimed her pistol and fired, the red beam hitting one square in the face while the others immediately dove for cover behind rocks, or fell to one knee and began firing at her.

The humming must have affected their shots, since most were wildly inaccurate, but considering she was wearing no armor, it would only take one to kill her. The humming became nearly a shriek, boring into her mind. With a shout, she fired several beams at the Mutons, all of which missed. “Hurry up!” She screamed as a wave of agony washed over her, and the Mutons outside fell to the ground.

 _“Cease your fight, child,”_ a voice that was _not_ Lucas’ and still came from his mouth said, clenching a fist sheathed in purple flame. _“The aliens are mine.”_

Then everything fell silent and Abby slumped to the ground, breathing hard. She looked over to where Lucas was standing, now in front of an orb that rippled a faint turquoise and radiating a clear light despite no visible power source. “I thought you said it was purple,” she muttered, stumbling over.

“I did,” he muttered, also looking at the orb. “Interesting. Perhaps it changes depending on species. But it worked,” a smile spread across his face. “The aliens are under my command now. Your job is done.”

“How is that possible?” She asked, looking outside. “Did you just... take them over? Are you controlling them now?”

“I consider myself fairly talented,” he said with a smile. “But not _quite_ that talented. No, all for now is I simply altered their minds to not consider humans a threat. I’ll have to fine-tune their reactions later, but for now they will be docile to us.”

Abby would have to ask Patricia later to confirm just how possible that was. She didn’t trust Lucas nearly enough to take him at his word. “Then I guess we head back?” She asked, wincing as some remnants of the humming manifested themselves. “And what was with your voice?”

“Yes, we head back and unfortunately inform Harper that my formula was a failure,” he said, amused. “And psionic distortion. I’m sure you’ve heard it before. The intensity was more because of the artifact, I assume.”

“I suppose,” Abby admitted, not quite convinced. Even Patricia hadn’t sounded like a completely different person. “But if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to do that again.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Gertrude,” he chuckled. “I have no intention of putting you through that again.”

“Right,” she said, beginning to exit. “Let’s go.”

“Of course,” he said, following her. “Although I do have one request.”

Abby sighed. “And that is?”

“I’d prefer you address me by my title, at least when we are alone,” Lucas said, wincing as she did so. “It’s disconcerting whenever you think of me as Lucas. My title is the Chronicler, and I would prefer it stay that way.”

So Lucas wasn’t his real name. How shocking. Abby shrugged. “If you want, Chronicler. But we have a lot to discuss when we get back.”

“That we do,” he agreed. “And I think everything will work out just fine.”

***

_Central Command, Mars Forward Observation Station_

It was rare to have two Ethereals in attendance at the same time. Three was unheard of.

Yet that was what was happening now. Ravarian had only expected himself, Quisilia and the Battlemaster to be in attendance as they discussed the attack on America. But no, the Battlemaster had apparently called anyone who was even remotely involved in this operation. Not that Ravarian minded, this was exactly what should be happening.

In addition to the three of them, Sicarius was also in attendance, standing in the shadows away from the main holotable, seemingly content to let them work out the details. Why she was here was probably something the Battlemaster was going to reveal. In addition the Battlemaster had also involved J’Loran and Lura’irinena’borelia, which told him that they were going to be heavily involved as well.

The Collective Andromedon Commander didn’t just appear for anyone, nor did the respected Director of the Lurainian. And now all of them were here. The Battlemaster stood opposite himself, flanked by J’Loran and Irinena, while Quisilia stood beside him.

“ADVENT will be expecting an attack,” the Battlemaster began, bringing up a map of the country. “Of all the countries in North America, the United States is the most important. Capture it, and we cripple ADVENT irreparably.”

“The campaign will take months to perform properly,” J’Loran warned in his slightly garbled and synthesized voice, which all Andromedons suffered from in wearing those bulky suits. “America will not fall easily, and there are many potential strongholds.”

“I am aware of that,” the Battlemaster stated coldly. “The Humans are intent on a war, and I intend to provide them with one. If it takes months or years, then so be it. Humans can only withstand so much conflict before breaking.”

“You have a strategy?” Ravarian asked, ready to get to the heart of the matter.

One thing he always appreciated about the Battlemaster was that he was always respectful to his subordinates, even when faced with rhetorical questions such as the one he’d posed. “Yes,” was all he said. “Irinena and Sicarius will first take Hawaii.”

“The island state?” Quisilia asked. “Is it necessary?”

“No, it is not,” the Battlemaster answered without apology. “But it will be a useful staging ground, small as it is. Its fall will serve us more symbolically.”

“But we’ll let them know we’re coming,” Ravarian pointed out. “Could we not attack the West Coast first, and then capture Hawaii? We would accomplish the same thing but with the element of surprise.”

“You are correct,” the Battlemaster said, looking down on him. “But I have no intention of a surprise attack. I _want_ them to know we are coming. We suffered a defeat in Japan, and the Humans are overconfident. When they see the most powerful nation in the world fail to stop us, they will begin to panic and make mistakes.”

“Assuming we are successful,” Irinena said, baring her incisors. Ravarian suspected that the Borelian was not looking forward to capturing Hawaii, which by all accounts, was very hot. “XCOM is the unknown variable.”

“XCOM cannot stop an army alone,” J’Loran stated mechanically. “They have faced amateurs before. Wherever they strike, they will not find ground to stop us. I have studied them, I know what they can do now and my soldiers are prepared.”

“Be that as it may, if Patricia Trask or Aegis show up, we are going to have problems,” Ravarian insisted. “Ignoring that because of bravado is foolish.”

“We are not fools, Zar’Chon,” J’Loran responded. “If we are facing a superior foe, then we will retreat. But the truth is that the majority of XCOM is little more than slightly enhanced soldiers.”

“Let us return to the topic at hand,” Quisilia interrupted. “We capture Hawaii. Then what?”

“There are four major cities that we must take to establish a hold on the West Coast,” the Battlemaster began. “Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and Seattle. All well-known cities and the capture of them will be an additional blow to morale. Furthermore, the majority are inland, which will allow us to establish ourselves well before marching on the cities themselves.”

“I will coordinate the attacks on Portland and Seattle,” J’Loran said. “Irinena will assist in this.”

“And I will lead the attack on San Francisco,” the Battlemaster continued. “As it is on the coast, we will be most vulnerable there. I will personally target their military bases and then assist should Los Angeles still be standing.”

“I suppose we should attempt to prepare for XCOM,” Ravarian said. “The question is if they will head to where you are, or try and avoid you.”

“Either way, I am prepared,” the Battlemaster assured him. “Patricia is powerless against me.”

“By showing yourself, you risk drawing Aegis out,” Quisilia pointed out. “If he has truly sided with XCOM, he may feel obligated to-“

“Aegis will not emerge,” the armored Ethereal interrupted flatly. “I know him very well, and he will not place himself into the conflict yet. It is too soon. Nor do I expect him to have the courage to kill one of his own. This ‘defection’ is nothing more than an ideological protest against the Imperator. When the Humans are on the verge of defeat, he will come back, having made his point.”

“There is another concern,” Ravarian added. “Mexico is not an issue yet, but should we not do something about Canada? If we continue pressing forward into America, the Canadians can flank us from the north.”

“Canada is not to be disturbed, per the Imperator’s orders,” the Battlemaster stated. “We have little to fear from them regardless. They are isolated, and refuse to join ADVENT. They are not a threat.”

Ravarian frowned. “Why does the Imperator want to ignore Canada?”

“He did not give a reason, just orders,” the Battlemaster answered. “And his orders _will_ be followed.”

“I believe that covers the overview,” Quisilia said. “Now the only question is timing. The longer we wait, the more time ADVENT has to prepare.”

“It will not matter,” the Battlemaster warned. “It will take two weeks to assemble my Division and prepare them for the attack. Let the Humans prepare. Let them become complacent. Their fate is sealed, Quisilia. When I give the command, they will fall before us and will flee in terror.”

And Ravarian believed it. He had only seen the Battlemaster at work once, and that had been enough to convince him that when the Battlemaster became involved, the ground would become soaked with the blood of thousands and the brave would flee for their lives.

Because the Battlemaster was not simply a warrior, he was a hunter. And now, the entire human race was his prey.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 6: ADVENT Intelligence

Subsection 6.1: Introduction

 _Purpose:_ ADVENT Intelligence serves to protect the members and nations of ADVENT from threats seen and unseen, known and unknown, outside and within. ADVENT Intelligence recognizes that many of the most dangerous threats start within, and only grow the longer they are left unchecked. Documented threats identified within the borders of ADVENT will be swiftly eliminated, regardless of status or position of the organization or person in question.

ADVENT Intelligence practices proactive intelligence, taking the initiative to identify potential issues and problems and then taking steps to deal with them. ADVENT Intelligence also recognizes the threats posed from foreign nations and extraterrestrial forces, and will work to negate, sabotage and remove any who would attempt to weaken or destroy ADVENT.

 _Divisions_ : ADVENT Intelligence is composed of several divisions, each with the purpose of fulfilling a certain function within the organization.

  * The Division of Field Operations (Foreign): This division focuses on operations that are directed towards foreign, non-ADVENT nations, the nature of which operations can vary drastically, though mostly focus on the removal and negation of government and military targets. The Chancellor of ADVENT must be appraised of all operations stemming from this division.
  * The Division of Field Operations (Domestic): This division focuses on operations that are directed within ADVENT, the nature of these operations can also vary drastically, though is typically reserved for internal investigation of multiple State organizations. Because of the sensitive nature of these investigations, informing the Chancellor of ADVENT is left solely up to the discretion of the Director of ADVENT Intelligence.
  * The Division of Field Operations (Extraterrestrial): This division focuses exclusively on intelligence operations against alien forces, using whatever means are necessary to negate the threat they pose to our planet. The Chancellor of ADVENT must be appraised of all operations stemming from this division.
  * The Division of Analysis and Cryptography: This division focus on the analysis of collected documents of all types and their usage thereof. It is also responsible for the encryption and decryption of all ADVENT ciphers and algorithms, as well as primarily responsible for breaking the codes of an alien or foreign nature.
  * The Division of Cybersecurity: This division will focus exclusively on computer security for all facets of ADVENT, and be responsible for the creation, maintenance and protection of all security software to help ensure that all of ADVENT is securely protected from digital threats.
  * The Division of Observation: This division watches private and state media within ADVENT to ensure that that all are in compliance with the directive and will take action if needed to neutralize those who are knowingly misleading or inciting people to violence. State media, private media, social media, all video streaming and posting sites, message boards and online forums, and the darknet are all under surveillance by this division.
  * The Division of Computational Manipulation: This division is responsible for the offensive usage of computers against alien or foreign systems, as well as experimentation and development of new systems and algorithms of attack.
  * The Division of Interrogation: This division oversees the questioning, debriefing and holding of people and aliens arrested by ADVENT Intelligence, and are responsible for the extraction of information from hostile agents, soldiers and terrorists.
  * The Division of Intelligence Command: This division is technically overseeing all previously stated divisions, and is under the control of the Director of ADVENT Intelligence, and the support staff they have chosen. All major decisions regardless of division, must be approved by the Division of Intelligence Command.




	9. Research and Engineering VII

 

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

It was a victory, and that concerned him.

If there was one thing that he could say for certain about the Ethereals, it was that they weren’t idiots. Yet from watching the various recordings and footage of the battle, he was surprised at the apparent lack of coordination and basic strategy. Were they really so overconfident to believe that if they simply threw enough soldiers at them they would win?

In all honesty, they probably _could_ , but it would be an enormous and unnecessary investment for a war that he still didn’t believe they were fully invested in. True, they had held the advantage here, the defenders always would, but the defense had gone far better than he had anticipated. ADVENT had proven to be able to stand against the aliens on footing that slightly favored ADVENT, and that was greatly reassuring.

That being said, the fact that they had won…he didn’t want to say _easily,_ but they had won without as much damage as he had anticipated, made him suspicious. Could this be a feint to lull them into a false sense of security? Or was it a genuine blunder? But if so, why would the Ethereals risk that to begin with?

At least there was an actual Ethereal on hand to discuss this with. Aegis, Zhang, and Jackson were all in attendance now to discuss the aftermath of the attack now that everything had calmed down. Patricia was getting some well-earned rest, and Vahlen and Shen were hard at work with their projects.

The Commander appreciated that Aegis was apparently… _trying_ …to keep his aura under control, but he could see it visibly affecting Jackson and even Zhang to an extent. He was getting better at blocking it out, but every so often a cool confidence would overtake him, washing away all doubts and concerns.

Not what he wanted right now.

“Is this normally how ground campaigns are conducted?” The Commander asked Aegis as they stood around the holotable.

“No,” Aegis stated. “The Collective has never had to conduct a ‘ground campaign’ as you said. There has only been one major conflict in their history, and that was when the Battlemaster conquered the Mutons. This,” he gestured to the holotable. “Is unprecedented.”

Zhang grunted. “After hearing from Yates, I would have expected more from your strategy.”

“I agree,” Aegis said, curiosity tinging his voice. “This implies that there was someone inexperienced put in charge, or someone arrogant enough to automatically expect a victory.”

“And do you know who that would be?” The Commander asked.

Aegis breathed heavily. “I have some suspicions. It is possible that a Hive Commander or Andromedon was placed in charge, but even that is questionable.”

“I doubt it was an Andromedon,” Zhang muttered. “Those aliens were the only ones who actually knew what they were doing.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “After this battle, the Andromedons appear to be the most dangerous threat, outside of other Ethereals.”

“Andromedons are a double-edged sword, provided you can utilize them correctly,” Aegis dismissed. “They are powerful against almost every kind of infantry, but they are weak to psionics. The only reason they respect our authority in the Collective is because we have the means to control them anytime they wish.”

“Still, we can’t rely on that,” Jackson said. “But if Patricia could take them over like she did on the beach…” She smiled at the thought.

“The problem is that Patricia is only one woman,” the Commander pointed out. “Her display was impressive, but once the Collective puts a competent leader in charge, they will either spread Andromedons throughout their army evenly, or send something else to distract her.”

“You will not have to wait long for a competent leader,” Aegis warned ominously. “The Battlemaster will be taking command after this, you can be sure of it. The fact that he allowed this at all is surprising, and I can only assume he wanted to observe how ADVENT and XCOM operate. I am actually not dismissing the possibility of an Ethereal being in charge, albeit one without much experience.”

Zhang raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That seems unlikely.”

“Not as much as you might expect,” Aegis corrected. “Most Ethereals still do not believe you pose a credible threat, and likely believe you can be overwhelmed with sheer numbers. Arrogance and pride is an insidious ailment within our species, one which they will struggle to break, if they can at all.”

“Despite who was in charge, we can’t assume that it will always be this easy,” the Commander reflected, scratching his chin. “I expect the next time we will be faced with a much smarter enemy.”

“The question is where they will strike next,” Zhang said, looking down at the holotable. “They might try Japan again, or perhaps Africa.”

“If they were smart, they’d focus their efforts fully on Oceania,” Jackson pointed out. “But they seem to want to take that slowly and methodically. To their credit, the resistance forces there are making it hell for them.”

“Beyond strategic value, we should also consider the symbolic impact,” the Commander said after a few moments of thought. “The aliens will suffer a blow to morale, and they will want to make a statement. There is only one place where that would be possible: America.”

Jackson snorted. “Not if they’re smart. Sure, it would scare the people, but that would be the one thing that would destroy the brewing civil war over there. People aren’t going to speak out against ADVENT once they are saved from the aliens.”

“I agree,” Zhang nodded. “They would be smart to let America weaken itself as it debates over ADVENT. An attack would solidify their position for good.”

“Amusing,” Aegis interjected, and the Commander could almost imagine the Ethereal smirking. “You have illustrated the difference between Quisilia and the Battlemaster. Quisilia would likely enjoy making America tear itself apart, no army required. The Battlemaster does not subscribe to that thought process. He will be looking to make a statement that solidifies the Collective as a dominant force. I agree with the Commander: America will come under attack next.”

Jackson almost grew somber at that, but perked up quickly. “If that actually happens, we have a good idea where they will attack.”

“The West Coast is the only realistic area,” the Commander agreed. “I’ll tell Saudia that she should reinforce that area. Maybe evacuate the larger cities.”

“I would be very careful in where you send your forces,” Aegis warned. “The Battlemaster will be leading the charge, and your soldiers as they are do not stand a chance against him. It is not an exaggeration to say that whatever city comes under direct attack by him is forfeit.”

“Perhaps we send Patricia once we have confirmation,” Jackson suggested. “She could certainly-“

 _“No.”_ Aegis hissed. “That is the _worst_ possible answer. The Battlemaster is immune to mind control, and all you accomplish is losing your most powerful psion. The fact is that you do not have powerful enough psions to stop him.”

“Well, that’s why you’re here,” the Commander said. “Getting our psions powerful enough. And if pressed, you could participate as well.”

“Not yet,” Aegis refused. “It is too soon, and the potential consequences are not enough for me to expose myself yet. I will assist you in preparing your psions, but I will not fight the Battlemaster yet.”

“Why?” Jackson questioned. “Are you scared of him?”

“I am not,” Aegis answered. “But you should be. The Battlemaster will not end this war quickly. He is obsessed with ultimate victory. Territory will be taken methodically, all opposition destroyed along the way and he will leave behind cities locked down by his forces. He is perfectly willing to wage war for years to bring your species under control, but fortunately, that gives you time to fight back.”

“Then we probably shouldn’t delay,” the Commander nodded. “There is a lot we need to do. It’s time to bring roll out our genetic modification program for all our soldiers and psions. If what Vahlen has told me is accurate, they should be close to invincible.”

“A bold claim,” Zhang grunted. “I’d prefer she finished the Manchurian Program.”

The Commander shrugged. “I’m not concerned. Our science teams are large enough to run multiple projects at once. I have no doubt she’s working on it…although she does have a tendency to get personally involved in everything.”

“Just like you, apparently,” Jackson smirked. “No wonder you two are together.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Very funny. So, anything else.”

“Actually, yes,” Jackson said, picking up her tablet. “I was forwarded this by ADVENT Intelligence. It’s…interesting.”

“Ah, right,” Zhang recalled. “I didn’t realize Elizabeth sent it to you as well.”

“What is it?” The Commander asked.

“Well, uh,” Jackson scowled. “It’s…a Twitter feed.”

“And this is interesting why?” The Commander wondered aloud.

“Well, take a look for yourself,” Jackson said, handing him the tablet. The Commander wasn’t exactly well-versed in much social media, but he knew how to operate it, and found himself quite surprised to see that the avatar of this particular user appeared to be a cartoon rendition of an Ethereal similar to Aegis, giving a thumbs up.

Well, he could already agree with Jackson’s assessment of _interesting._ That, and the user called itself @TheGreatQ. He looked up. “Is this real?”

“That was exactly what Elizabeth said when she sent this to me,” Zhang said, the faintest smile on his face.

“It got the attention of ADVENT Intelligence when it started apparently live-tweeting the battle,” Jackson continued, visibly trying to maintain some measure of professionalism. “That isn’t completely odd, but what _was_ suspicious was the high quality of the images and video he referenced. That and the content was fairly graphic. Just look through the feed and you’ll see.”

With a growing sense of curiosity, the Commander began scrolling through, and the collection was…quite something. One was a short clip of some alien shooting an ADVENT soldier directly in the head, with the accompanying commentary: _Another soldier falls to the might of the Collective! #headshot #victory #winning_

Then there was an image of a heated firefight between ADVENT and the aliens, with the caption: _The fighting has begun! Good luck to our liberating forces! #invasion #encouragement_

It became more amusing when whoever this was realized the battle was being lost, as one of the later tweets was an image of the Star Trek facepalm meme with a battle photoshopped image of an Ethereal helm on the head, with the accompanying caption: _MFW our superior army gets beaten by a species that hasn’t even mastered spaceflight. #incompetent #sigh #invasion_

The Commander looked up at Aegis. “Is this who I think it is?”

Aegis reached out and took the tablet, while Jackson gave some more information. “So yeah, and that apparently isn’t the only one like that. This account is linked to Facebook and Reddit account of similar names, and seems to be pretty active on them are well.”

“I’m not sure if I want this to be real or not,” the Commander said slowly. “That’s…bizarre.”

“You know him,” Zhang said to Aegis. “Is this something Quisilia would do?”

A pause. “Unfortunately, yes,” Aegis confirmed. “This is definitely something he would do for his own amusement.”

“That…seems like a really bad security issue,” the Commander said slowly. “He does know we can read this right?”

“Probably,” Aegis sighed. “He is likely expecting it.”

Zhang snorted. “The alien wants to get cute? Fine. At least human sites are easier to circumvent. He’s definitely making a mistake.”

“I wouldn’t dwell on it,” Aegis said. “This is likely a distraction from actual threats. I have an idea on how to take advantage of this, but I will need to think on it some more.”

“We’ll deal with Twitter-using Ethereals later,” the Commander sighed, realizing how far off-topic they’d gone. “But we have more important work to do now. Dismissed.”

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

To date, Jamali had never been in a situation even remotely close to the chaos that was in Japan. He’d been in several skirmishes of course, as was to be expected in Iraq, but usually just fighting criminals and terrorists. Front-line combat was significantly different from the brief intense shootouts in abandoned alleys.

After destroying the UFO, he’d gotten Iida some medical attention and rejoined Carmelita as they mopped up what remained of the alien forces, which by then were in full retreat. Jamali wondered exactly how many kills Carmelita had gotten, since it seemed like whenever he looked, she was getting kill after kill, or wounding the ones she couldn’t.

It made him feel somewhat…mediocre in comparison. He was just a regular human, not enhanced like her or psionic like Matthew, who had wrecked a good portion of the alien forces all by himself. Although, he wasn’t sure he’d also enhance himself if given the chance either. It was…well, unnatural, no matter how you felt about it. Humans weren’t supposed to be able to jump entire stories or crush enemies with their minds.

He shook his head and pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Not the right time or place for such talk, especially in light of their victory. Although Sai-Kee had been killed and Inori presumably captured, the soldiers were in high spirits. He had been as well, before reality set back in and he realized that this would be the first of many such battles.

Still though, that would have been cause for celebration, and he might have even joined in had he not done the stupid thing and decided to check in on the state of the Middle East, which the majority of XCOM soldiers seemed to have forgotten about.

“You look oddly gloomy,” Fakhr commented, walking up with a smile. “Doesn’t suit you, especially since not many here can claim to have utterly executed an entire Muton team by themselves.”

Jamali flushed slightly at that. He hadn’t expected that particular feat to garner that much attention in comparison to Carmelita, or Patricia’s utter dominance of the alien forces. But it had spread pretty fast and he’d received compliments from multiple soldiers, congratulating him on his kill count and rallying an attack on a UFO with limited forces.

It was nice to be recognized, but it wasn’t as though it was an act of genius. Most people would have likely come up with something similar. Although they might not have been as good a shot as himself. “I guess you heard about it as well?” He told her.

“Better, I watched it,” she amended. “Suffice to say I was pretty impressed.”

She watched…oh, right. Jamali remembered that all footage from the armor cams was available to XCOM soldiers. Now that he remembered that, he was considering watching Carmelita’s footage. It would be interesting, or maybe Patricia’s. “Thanks,” he told Fakhr. “Though I’m sure you killed your fair share.”

“Oh yes,” she smirked. “Nothing quite like using rockets to blow up Mechtoids. The damn things just like standing in one place and not moving. Makes them pitifully easy to deal with. But really though,” she nodded down to the tablet in his hand. “What’s going on?”

Wasn’t she curious. “I’m checking on the situation in the Middle East,” he said evenly. “Nothing more than that.”

That turned her more serious, and she fortunately didn’t question why he decided to look that up, even knowing the likely answer. He supposed if there was anyone who would respect his perspective it was her, which he found extremely ironic in light of where she was from. “What’s changed?” She asked, taking a seat on the bunk opposite him.

“Israeli and American forces invaded Iraq,” he revealed as nonchalantly as possible. “Guess it’s all technically ADVENT now, but those are the primary contributors.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry that this is happening.”

He noticed she didn’t apologize, or say that what was happening wasn’t justified. Probably as close to an apology as he could expect from her. He supposed what she was getting at was that she sympathized with him, and he supposed that if the roles were reversed, he might not object to invading Israel if they were behind an attempted assassination of Iraq’s leaders.

But it didn’t make it easier. “Thanks. I hope it ends quickly. They can’t hold out against ADVENT. More people are just going to die unnecessarily.”

Fakhr nodded grimly, brushing a lone curl out of her face. “I don’t know what really to say. I want to give some reassurance that things will work out, but…” she sighed. “I can’t promise that. Not all Israeli officers are particularly lenient, especially after spending decades surrounded by enemies.”

“At least you’re honest,” Jamali said. “You don’t really have any control over it.”

“No,” she muttered. “But I can make some educated guesses. Do you have family?”

“Yes, my parents and three sisters,” he said, glad to somewhat change the subject. “All of them are living in Baghdad, so they will likely be safe from the worst of the fighting.”

“ _Three_ sisters?” She asked incredulously. “How did you survive?”

Despite himself, Jamali chuckled. “I managed. The oldest one was living away when I was young, and the other two were younger than me, and mostly kept to themselves. Could have been worse, but my sisters never gave me any trouble. What about you?”

“Only child,” she answered. “I could never decide if siblings were something I wanted or not. But it all worked out alright, I suppose. I enjoyed the solitude even if it was sometimes lonely. Is military service part of your family?”

“Not really,” Jamali said. “One of my uncles was an officer, but nothing beyond that. Soldiers made my parents nervous, especially during the War on Terror. Needless to say they were surprised when I decided to join.”

“Well, they’d probably be proud to see you made it to XCOM,” Fakhr said with a small smile. “Only the very best get here, so I’ve heard.”

Jamali pondered that. “I doubt they know. Even if they did, now they might consider me a traitor. XCOM supports ADVENT, right?”

Fakhr’s lips twitched. “Yes we do. Officially, anyway. And I don’t see the Commander stepping in to stop it.”

“I doubt he could even if he wanted to,” Jamali shrugged. “XCOM isn’t supposed to meddle in these kind of affairs.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t count on ‘rules’ being something to stop the Commander,” Fakhr said. “I have a feeling that if he wanted something done, he’d do it regardless of what was expected. But I think this situation will get better soon.”

“I hope so,” Jamali sighed. “I really do.”

***

_The Praesidium, Psionic Testing Chambers_

The few days of rest was exactly what Patricia needed after the battle. She hadn’t anticipated how much that would take out of her, but given how she presumably single-handedly turned the tide of the battle, it probably wasn’t a surprise how easy it would be to tire herself out. Only thing to do was train to get better.

The Testing Chambers were perfect for this; open spaces she’d helped design with Shen to test out various powers on dummies, targets, and several prisoners Vahlen had loaned to hone telepathic abilities. She and Aegis were still working out the training program, but she believed it was good enough for now, and they needed psions.

Such as the woman in front of her, who was staring at her, apparently torn between confusion and disbelief. “You’re kidding,” Allison Monder said flatly. “ _I’m_ psionic?”

“According to Vahlen’s reports, yes,” Patricia said, glancing down at the tablet in her hand to double-check. “Fairly gifted as well, should you elect to undergo the awakening.”

Allison raised an eyebrow. “I’m getting a choice?”

“Yes,” Patricia affirmed. “More psions are needed, but is not something that everyone can, or should, wield. I believe you are capable of utilizing this gift responsibly, as does Haley here,” Haley gave a slight nod in affirmation, and an encouraging smile to the unsure woman. “But you know yourself best. If you turn this down, we will find others.”

“Wait,” Allison interrupted, raising a hand and turning her ice-blue eyes on the smiling psychologist. “Was _that_ the reason you were asking all those prying questions earlier?”

“One of the reasons,” Haley admitted freely. “We can’t have unstable people running loose with highly destructive powers now, can we?”

“Fair point,” Allison muttered, but she still sounded mollified. “So, say I agree. What will happen to me? Will I be able to…” she waved a hand aimlessly. “Control people? Telepathy? Whatever you do?”

Patricia hesitated. “We don’t know,” she admitted. “Each psion has their own affinity. I’m a natural telepath, but that will not necessarily be the same thing for you. Matthew has a telekinetic affinity, and Iosif is primarily defensive. We once had a psion who also had more destructive abilities. But unfortunately we can’t predict exactly _what_ you will be talented in.”

Allison bit her lip absentmindedly, and Patricia could sense she was conflicted. The temptation to peek into her mind was there, but Patricia knew that would be a dangerous road to go down. This was an important decision, and as such she was impressed Allison was treating it so seriously. However, she expected she would accept. Haley had correctly identified everyone so far, and only forwarded the ones who would likely be open to accepting, and so far she had been completely accurate.

“Do you want to think it over?” Patricia asked after a couple minutes of silence. “I would prefer the decision soon, but not necessarily right now.”

“No…” Allison said slowly. “I’m just…getting used to the idea. I honestly didn’t expect anything like this. I’ll do it, like you said, we need as many psions as possible.”

Patricia smiled. “Excellent. Haley, put her down for a time tomorrow.”

“Happily,” Haley confirmed, jotting it down immediately. “Miss Monder, I’ve forwarded everything you need for the appointment and some recommendations to your private mail.”

“Thank you,” Allison said, inclining her head. “I’ll be here on time.” With that, she saluted and marched off, leaving the two of them alone.

“You cut it close,” Patricia told Haley, turning to her. “I sensed her hesitating. She could have easily turned it down.”

“But she didn’t,” Haley said, almost smugly, but the woman hid it with her constant professional mannerisms. “Allison is conditioned to follow her superiors. She has been stuck in mediocrity her whole life, never excelling. Give her the opportunity for change, combined with a superior officer asking her, and I knew she would agree.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” Patricia agreed, once more impressed by Haley’s methodical assessment. She had been somewhat skeptical when the Commander suggested bringing her on, but after working with, and being examined by her, she knew why the Commander had insisted. She had an analytical mind that rivaled her own, and was a pure professional, as well as easy to talk to.

Privately, Patricia suspected that Haley wasn’t comfortable with psions, and her in particular, but as long as that didn’t interfere, she had no issues with it. “So in total we’ll have six new psions,” Patricia recalled. “Good enough, until you identify more.”

“Which won’t be for some time,” Haley said, slightly adjusting her glasses. “I’ll be closely monitoring this batch to ensure there are no negative mental side effects. Not everyone is as resilient as you. It will take time to get through the rest of the new batch of soldiers, and I’ve got my eye on several other ones.”

“Oh, who?” Patricia asked. “You have concerns?”

She could sense Haley’s cold concern, which fascinated her about the psychologist. Haley was highly focused on _problems_ , not necessarily _people_ , which was a far cry from what she expected, especially since their goal was to help people. And Haley _did_ , but it came from a place of practicality, not concern for their well-being. A well-adjusted soldier was much better than an unstable one.

Although if she was _truly_ a woman who cared about the well-being of everyone, she probably would have refused to work with XCOM out of pure principle, but she had been instrumental in helping identify weaknesses in potential political threats, aliens, and provided advice to help control Vahlen’s test subjects, as well as being heavily involved in the Manchurian Program.

Not an ordinary psychologist, that was for certain.

“Yes,” Haley looked up at Patricia. “You have heard about the situations in America and the Middle East?”

Patricia almost rolled her eyes. “Of course I have. Is that an issue?”

“Not yet, but it could be soon,” Haley warned, crossing her arms. “One of the soldiers, Jamali Muhammad, is from Iraq, which is currently under attack from ADVENT. I might talk to him later, help him through any issues he’s having. Ignore him and he might become an issue, especially since XCOM supports ADVENT.”

“Fair enough,” Patricia nodded. “Though he seems fine, from what I can tell.”

Haley frowned. “No offense, Patricia, but you’re not exactly qualified to answer that question. I’d rather be sure, all the same. The bigger issue is the Americans.”

“I highly doubt that a few riots are going to cause issues,” Patricia said flatly. “Or how the Peacekeepers responded. They did their jobs, big deal.”

“Spoken like a true foreigner,” Haley chided. “Most Americans are nationalists, if you haven’t learned that by now, and most of their military is as well. Do remember that ADVENT is a foreign entity that has essentially taken over the United States. Naturally, that makes some people angry, and I highly doubt some of the Americans here are particularly happy knowing they’re now part of a world government without any diplomatic say.”

That was a good point. “And you think this is a big problem?”

“Not yet,” was the not-quite-reassuring answer. “But I’ve been following the situation. In my estimation, it will get worse before it gets better. Once some news anchor gets arrested by Saudia’s Peacekeepers, all hell is going to break loose there. The point _here_ is that the American soldiers with us might become disillusioned or resentful, neither of which are conducive.”

“Fair point,” Patricia nodded, frowning. “However, I don’t see much we can do. Unless you want me to psionically change their minds?”

It was a half-joke, but one Haley didn’t find funny judging from her sudden emotional flare and furrowed forehead. “No. All we can do is monitor them now. The good news is that the Commander is American, and as long as the aliens dominate their minds, they won’t think of other issues. Keep them focused on the real threat and we should be fine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Patricia said. “Anything else you want to discuss.”

“The Commander mentioned beginning intensive genetic modification of volunteer soldiers,” Haley recalled. “I suppose I should check in with Vahlen and see what kinds of mental issues might appear as a result. It’s amazing that no one here has suffered a severe breakdown with what you’ve subjected people to.” She shook her head. “I suppose the Commander picked his initial soldiers well. All of very high mental fortitude. Supposedly.” She scowled as she recalled something. “I’m still not sure what he was thinking recruiting that Kidon agent.”

“I’m pretty sure Mira was recruited before he showed up,” Patricia noted, amused. “I’d say the blame falls to Bradford.”

“A shame he died,” Haley mused, tucking her tablet under her arm. “He seemed like a nice man. Smart and did his job well. But boring, which in this case would not be an issue.”

“I’ll let you do your job,” Patricia said, walking away. “Now that we have the psions, I need to talk with Aegis about how to properly introduce him.”

“Do that,” Haley nodded. “But _please_ , for the love of God, _don’t_ just bring them to Aegis. Break the news to them _away_ from said Ethereal.”

Patricia chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to do that.”

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

Sierra was getting very distracted with the way Nati was idly tapping his finger on the table. It wasn’t anything deliberately distracting, but for whatever reason it kept getting her attention, maybe because she was too caught up thinking about what he was saying. “So basically what you’re saying is that it felt weird?”

Nati hesitated before answering. “I suppose so. _Odd_ is a better word. Nothing was _wrong_ , just…different. Clear.”

“Because of Patricia,” Sierra clarified, nodding. “And her mind tricks.”

“Hey, you should look at my kill count,” Nati said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not complaining. Whatever she did, she definitely made me a lot better. Everything was so much _clearer_.”

“Alright,” Sierra said, resting her arms on the table. “So how does that work exactly?”

“You should ask her,” Nati shrugged. “I’m not a psion. But what also helped was that I somehow _knew_ where most of the aliens were, even not seeing them myself. It’s sort of what I imagine a hive mind would be like, although without the drawbacks.”

“And that _isn’t_ a little bit concerning?” Sierra asked incredulously. “That is not the best example you could have chosen to illustrate it. She’s reading your mind and you’re ok with it?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Nati said, leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t you ask her, or maybe Creed? I don’t know her, but I _do_ know that I definitely don’t have a problem with it. Thanks to her we _did_ win pretty decisively.”

“Right, because of course she is going to give me a straight answer,” Sierra answered sarcastically. “ _’Noo, Sierra, I definitely don’t occasionally read people’s minds. You really have nothing to worry about.’_ Please.”

“Why not ask Creed then?” Nati asked. “He says she doesn’t.”

“Because he is _such_ an unbiased source,” Sierra retorted with a snort. “C’mon, really?”

Nati chuckled. “Fair point. Why so confrontational? I’d think you’d be happy we won?”

Sierra sighed, and rubbed her head. “Yeah, yeah, I know. And I am, and I really do want to actually get out there and fight. But this place is…strange to me. It’s weird. Things that should be bothering people are just overlooked, stuff that is questionable is just accepted. It’s like a place where reality only revolves around the damn aliens.”

Nati almost smirked at her. “You _do_ realize you’re in XCOM, right? A place where our _job_ is literally fighting aliens?”

“Smartass,” Sierra scowled. “Ignore the aliens for a minute and just think. If it was discovered that some humans had the ability to read thoughts and lift things into the air with their minds, what exactly do you think the reaction would be?”

“A lot of confusion and fear, probably,” Nati shrugged.

“Exactly,” Sierra nodded. “But I haven’t seen _anything_ like that here. Everyone is _way_ too convinced that every single psion can be trusted and that the Commander has our best interests in mind.”

“Have you considered that it might be true?” Nati asked slowly, looking at her seriously. “I’m as new as you, but from what I’ve seen the trust here in both Patricia and the Commander is well-placed. I’m not completely sure why you’re so suspicious. Do you know something I don’t?”

“Call it a gut feeling,” she muttered unconvincingly. “Yeah, I know, but in my experience, people with that kind of power don’t _not_ use it. They might be doing it for reasons they can justify, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening. I guess I don’t like the idea of anyone reading my mind, good person or no.”

“Fair enough,” Nati nodded. “But like it or not, this is reality now. Psions are going to only get more common. Don’t forget that they’re still humans, not some alien hybrid.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But I’m not sure I trust the Commander to do the right thing with them.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“Mainly because of the company he keeps,” Sierra explained, wondering if he would even care or understand. “I don’t suppose you’ve been keeping up with the rest of the world?”

“ADVENT invaded Iraq,” Nati said. “The Russian branch is going deep into Iran, but other than that, not much. Brazil is still flaunting their power, but I’m pretty sure the Chancellor is going to come down on them soon.”

“Not as big a story, but I don’t exactly like how ADVENT just took over America,” Sierra said. “And worse was that when some people protested it for obvious reasons, ADVENT just sent their so-called Peacekeepers and shut them down.”

“They were rioting, right?” Nati asked.

“It wasn’t a riot,” Sierra interrupted. “It was several idiots who decided to pick a fight and ruined it for everyone. Naturally ADVENT took that as reason enough to practically silence any other message that gathering might have sent. Which I guess fits in with what they want.”

“I sympathize, I do,” Nati said, scratching his chin. “Israel is also under ADVENT now too, remember. I think we differ in if that’s a bad thing or not. The world will need to come together eventually, and ultimately I think it’s for the best. No one likes change, but considering the circumstances, I think it was necessary here.”

“I might agree, if this Chancellor wasn’t from the fucking Illuminati,” Sierra clarified. “Seriously, just watch her anytime she speaks. She wants complete control over the world and she’s _getting_ it. Have you looked at the people she’s put in charge of the various agencies?”

“I’m not familiar with the Chancellor’s cabinet, no,” Nati admitted. “But I doubt she’s picking unqualified people.”

“I guess that depends on what you view as _unqualified_ ,” Sierra said. “She put a psychopath in charge of the Peacekeepers, so I’m not exactly convinced she’s really concerned about the well-being of citizens.”

“Stein, right?” Nati asked, frowning. “I’ve heard of her before. ‘Psychopath’ never came to mind. A little cold, but nothing like that.”

“She did an interview a few days ago,” Sierra said, shifting in her seat. “I’m not exactly sure why Saudia allowed her to do it, unless it was to scare the hell out of people. Anyone who is fine with killing a child is not someone I want in charge of law enforcement.”

Nati snorted. “Come on, she didn’t really say that.”

“Oh, yes she did,” Sierra said. “She definitely said something along the lines of ‘if they commit murder, they deserve to die.’”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Nati nodded. “That…honestly isn’t an issue for me. Why _shouldn’t_ they be punished?”

“You’re missing the point,” Sierra scowled. “There should be punishment, but I don’t think they should be _killed_ for it. These are kids, remember, not adults.”

Nati pursed his lips. “That is a debate I don’t think we’ll agree on, but we’ve gotten off-topic. Why does all of this make you distrust the Commander? If Saudia ever steps out of line, I’m sure he has plans to keep her on track.”

“That’s the point,” Sierra stated. “He hasn’t done _anything_. Which implies, at least to me, that he’s perfectly ok with what’s happening. And since what _is_ happening makes me uncomfortable, it makes me not trust him as much as everyone else seems to. Just because he’s good at fighting aliens doesn’t mean he should be influencing the world, because it doesn’t seem to be turning out that well.”

“Well, we wouldn’t have won that battle if not for ADVENT,” Nati pointed out. “You might not like them, but the fact is that they are a necessity, and the world is changing. It’ll take some getting used to, but it’s not going to be stopped and agonizing over all the bad news in the world is, quite honestly, pointless. If things get unreasonable, I’m sure the Commander will step in, but in the meantime, none of that is going to stop the aliens.”

“Right,” Sierra muttered. “Because that is the only thing we should be concerned about.”

“It is,” Nati said, standing up. “I was serious when I said you should talk to Patricia, or hell, even the Commander. This kind of distrust isn’t really healthy, and I do think they’d be willing to talk. If not that, maybe take some time for yourself. Beat up some people in the ring. Don’t stress yourself out over things you can’t control.”

“Duly noted,” Sierra said, half-sarcastically. “Thanks for talking anyway. Sorry to be such a downer.”

“No problem,” he smiled. “Tell you what, why not come with me to get some food. Otherwise I think you’re just going to sit there and get more depressed.”

“Probably,” Sierra admitted, standing up. “Alright, deal. I’m hungry anyway.”

Nati waved to the door. “After you, ma’am.”

“Cute,” Sierra mocked, rolling her eyes, but did take the lead as they left, and she did have to agree that some time focused on something else was probably for the best. For now, anyway.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

It was much easier for Nuan to recount the actual events of the battle rather than enduring it herself. Common sense, but now that the adrenaline had long faded and she could objectively overview the situation, she had performed…adequately. Not exceptionally, to her shame, but good enough that the SSF would be satisfied.

While writing her report, she had debated trying to emphasize the chaotic nature of the combat, and had actually attempted it before realizing that she wasn’t nearly a good enough writer to convey what being in the center of that battle really was like. So instead she focused on what she knew: Cold, hard facts and analysis.

Details of the initial attacks, descriptions of the opposing forces (with video evidence included), tactics noted and used, as well as additional notes, concerns and descriptions as she saw fit. If nothing else, even if participating in the battle had scared her, she couldn’t deny that it gave her a perspective that she would never have known without being there.

No one had asked yet why she was sitting alone at a table with her laptop, typing away, but she didn’t mind. Being Chinese, she wasn’t surprised that a good portion of the soldiers avoided her, and at the moment that only helped her concentration. Although she had gotten a few curious looks, but didn’t feel the need to socialize with the soldiers yet, if ever. It was unlikely that she would be able to find common ground with many here; the differences between herself and the majority were too vast to be overlooked.

She paused typing to take a quick sip from her glass of water, a short break before moving to the section she was unsure how to properly document without causing a panic in the PLA commanders. Psionics was something China had been aggressively trying to research as soon as they learned XCOM had psions, but to the best of her knowledge, they had been unsuccessful.

At least in the SSR, there was a clear suspicion of psionics, with quite a few not wanting anything to do with them. Too much power for one person was always the issue, and after the displays she’d seen, Nuan was convinced that attempting to _control_ a psion would be difficult at best. That being said…one such psion had been the only reason they’d gotten out alright, and another had been a major reason why the battle had been won in the first place.

It was going to be exceptionally difficult to portray them as extremely dangerous, but not necessarily a _threat_ to China. As much as she disliked how the Commander treated China in the past, she didn’t believe he posed a threat, and neither did the psions under him. The problem was that every officer that read the description of one woman mind-controlling an entire army, or another making teams of soldiers invulnerable, or one lifting enemies into the air with a gesture was going to immediately jump to the worst-case scenario of _“What if that is turned on us?”_

Nuan sighed and pinched her forehead. That was the issue here: Keeping tensions between XCOM and China more or less even. She just needed to report on what was happening from the front, but the more she thought about it, the more the possibility of China overreacting was a possibility. It _shouldn’t_ be, but if they read this and did something rash out of fear… _then_ the Commander, or worse, ADVENT, might be fully justified in responding, which was the _last_ thing she wanted.

She was beginning to realize _why_ the Commander had been fine with her entering XCOM, despite the bad blood between them and China. It was because he _knew_ that China was essentially boxed in from doing anything to harm XCOM. Anything they did to try and curtail or respond, publically at least, would be a predictable response. He was _planning_ for her to help drive China into a rash decision.

She scowled at that thought. Perhaps she was just tired and her mind was warped into thinking of conspiracies. The problem was that she wasn’t sure it _was_ one. What if she was somehow contributing to the Commander’s grand plan regarding China? Because she definitely knew he _had_ one. She looked at the bright screen with the document filled with black characters.

She seemed to have two options: Be as accurate as possible and describe what she’d seen and knew, while trying to emphasize the fact that XCOM wasn’t a threat yet. _Or_ she could do something unthinkable.

Lie.

A lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless. Instead of giving the _full_ story about the role psionics played, she could downplay it, make it seem like it was a useful tool, not an ability that could change the tide of an entire battle. Could she even do that and not be challenged? The only source that would completely dispute that would be the archived footage from their armor, and she knew China wouldn’t have that.

But…no, no. No possible way that would work. The battle was too public, she’d be either labeled as incompetent or a traitor, when neither were true. She quickly closed her laptop, taking short breaths as she realized what she had almost done. Never in her life had she considered lying or forging reports for her superiors. That was only something traitors considered, or the irredeemably desperate.

But she’d done it, if only for a minute, but not out of selfishness or as a way to damage China, but to potentially _save_ it from doing something terrible. Did that make it…excusable? Or was it the rationale other traitors began considering before they defected? _Maybe both_. A voice said. It reminded her of a saying she’d heard from several Americans.

_The path to hell is paved with good intentions._

And the path to treason was paved with lying to superiors. She shook her head, getting her breathing back under control. No. She had to do her job right, and hope that they were rational enough to consider carefully before doing anything rash.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” a voice commented, making her jump.

“Sorry,” Iosif apologized, taking a seat opposite her. “Didn’t realize you were _that_ deep in thought.”

“Accepted,” she said, flushing a little. “I didn’t see you.”

“Hmm, true,” he acknowledged, smiling. “So what’s wrong?”

She blinked. “Nothing.”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “I may not be Patricia,” he told her. “But I can sense emotions. You were scared, briefly, but it was there. And you’ve been sitting at that table for four hours straight. Ignoring why, it doesn’t seem like you’re in the best frame of mind for anything.”

Oh, she wanted to facepalm before opening her mouth like that. It was one thing she needed to emphasize about psions. You couldn’t distinguish them for regular people normally. Iosif himself only appeared to be a well-built, tall, brown-haired Russian. She would never suspect him of being a psion, or for that matter, any of them.

As for her response _now_ , she wasn’t sure. Denying it would be pointless, but she didn’t want to explain the exact circumstance since he _did_ probably work directly with Patricia, and her with the Commander. “Nothing…major,” she began. “But…have you ever considered doing a wrong thing for good reasons?”

“An interesting philosophical question,” Iosif answered, resting his arms on the table. “But to give you an answer, yes, of course. But I feel it was inevitable in my line of work.”

She searched her mind…what was Iosif before? Russian special forces probably. CT agent? Something else? Either way worked, but that kind of example wasn’t exactly the problem she had now. “Not something simple,” she clarified, struggling how best to articulate it. “Something…important. That your superiors might object to.”

“Now _that_ is different,” Iosif paused, glancing up before answering. “I will admit that I’ve had ideas that my superiors _definitely_ wouldn’t have approved of, although I never considered them good enough to actually risk. I’d probably only consider it if the potential consequences were worse than getting caught.”

All well and good, but the problem now was that there were too many factors to consider. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe she had too little faith in her superiors. Maybe she was just tired. How could she alone determine if the risk was appropriate? Not that it mattered, since she was going to purge that traitorous thought from her mind. “Makes sense. So what are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” he answered knowingly. “In all seriousness, I _am_ curious exactly what you are working on there.” He nodded to her closed laptop.

Nuan supposed it wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t as though it was a secret. “It’s my report to the PLA Strategic Support Force. Detailing the Battle of Japan.”

“Oh, you have to send report?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

“China wants to know the actual details of what is happening,” Nuan shrugged. “And that’s why I was sent here, to make sure any information isn’t distorted.”

“Alright, then question,” Iosif said. “What’s to stop you from sending XCOM secrets to the Chinese?”

“Impossible,” Nuan stated flatly. “The Commander isn’t an idiot. He has to approve each document before it gets sent. I’m not reporting any secrets of XCOM that aren’t already public. It’s a win-win for both parties. China stays informed, and XCOM gets a soldier.”

“I’ll admit, that’s surprisingly reasonable,” Iosif nodded, sounding impressed. “I was under the impression that China and XCOM don’t get along.”

“We don’t,” Nuan grunted. “But China knows XCOM is the most knowledgeable about the aliens, and for better or worse, will be instrumental in this war. It doesn’t do any good to have a poor relationship with them. We both want the aliens gone, and some compromises have to be made.”

“So you’re a peace offering?” Iosif questioned.

“In a sense,” Nuan agreed, albeit reluctantly. “Showing that both of us can work together.”

“And that’s it?” Iosif asked, with a slight smile. “Nothing to do with the last Chinese agent that got sent here.”

Nuan stiffened at the mention of Shun. “No.”

Iosif now had a full smile. “Remember, I can tell if someone is lying.”

“My mission has nothing to do with former agent Shun Anwei,” she said, keeping her voice cool and mechanical. “She is just a foreign agent.”

“Strong choice of words,” Iosif mused. “Although I’d think you’d prefer the term _traitor_.”

“Would that be inaccurate?” She asked coldly. “What would you call abandoning your country for a rival _organization_?”

“I never said it was inaccurate,” Iosif said, growing more serious as he leaned forward. “By your definition, she is most certainly a traitor to China, and were I in your position, I would likely be just as furious. But I have a question for you: Did you ever wonder why she switched her loyalty to XCOM?”

“No,” Nuan stated flatly. “And I do not care. Her reasons don’t change facts, and treason is something that can’t be forgiven or forgotten.”

Iosif nodded. “Perhaps not, but it can be understood.”

“And I suppose you know why?” Nuan asked.

“I don’t know the details, but I know she had good reasons,” Iosif answered. “I suppose your view on her would be if you value China over humanity. She chose the latter and stuck with XCOM, and I can’t disagree with her.”

“Those two things are not mutually exclusive,” Nuan pointed out. “I can be loyal to China and care about humanity at the same time. Please don’t defend her for the sake of it. You will not convince me otherwise.”

Iosif didn’t seem perturbed; instead simply nodding. “As you wish.”

There was a stretch of time that passes before Nuan sighed, not wanting it to end quite this way. “I wanted to say thank you. I doubt we would have survived without you.”

“Appreciated,” he said. “That is my job, after all. But you did your part; all of us did as best we could. No shame in retreating from unwinnable battles.”

“Still,” she insisted. “It wasn’t nothing.”

“Maybe not,” he chuckled. “Was that your first taste of combat?”

“On that scale,” she admitted, looking down at the polished table. “I’d been in some firefights, but I’m not a pure soldier like most here. I took the ‘support’ part of my job seriously. It was…well, almost overwhelming at first. But you probably felt that.”

“I suspected as much,” Iosif confirmed. “But you held up well. I was impressed. It only gets more natural from here and the calmer you are, the better you perform.”

“I hope so,” Nuan said, opening up her laptop again. “Thanks, Iosif. I should probably finish this soon. The Commander will need some time to review it, after all, and deadlines are taken seriously.”

“I won’t keep you then,” he promised. “Although once you’re finished, I wouldn’t mind reading your take for myself.”

Nuan hesitated. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Ah well, worth a try,” he said, getting up. “See you around.”

He left her alone, and she returned to writing. Now that he had brought it up, she _did_ wonder if she was allowed to show other soldiers her reports. Maybe she could include a short clarification when she sent this, maybe frame it as ‘additional consultants’ or something. Iosif might be useful, and maybe make her descriptions of psionics not as volatile as she probably was.

Something to think about for sure, but for later. Now she had to finish this report and hope she wasn’t making things worse.

***

_Northern Territory, Australia_

Abby glanced at the man on the cot while she put away her tools to be sterilized, and threw out her disposable gloves and mask. The good news was that here, the injuries were not extreme in the least and could be treated pretty easily. It felt good, putting her surgical skills to actual use, and she was pleased how easily everything came back to her. It was soothing in a way, much less thinking required than her trying to puzzle out exactly what to do next.

Her mission here had now become a lot more complicated, now with the Chronicler intending to build an army of aliens under his control to fight back. He was a powerful psion, that much was clear, and she figured she might as well hear him out before telling anyone else about him. And she had _quite_ a few questions for the elderly man, who had proven to be a lot more than he seemed.

The wounded man was coming out of his drug-induced sleep, blinking slowly as he focused on her. “Am I dead?” He asked.

“Nope,” she answered, walking over and making some notes on her tablet. He’d come out of it pretty quickly and was speaking clearly. A good sign. “A nasty wound, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Who _are_ you?” He asked dizzily. “I didn’t think we had any medics…”

“You don’t,” Abby clarified. “I’m just doing this to help out. Rest now, ok? You’ll be fighting the aliens soon enough.”

“Right…” his eyes rolled back into his head and it fell back on the pillow. Abby smirked. He needed the rest and would pull through fine. Good news for Harper. She left him in the tent and walked out into the now-dark camp. She rubbed her eyes, realizing that she needed rest of her own.

“Thank you,” Harper said, coming up. “I didn’t expect you to do this much for us.”

“No need,” Abby said, giving a weary smile. “I…needed that. It’s feels good to actually help people again.”

“Lucas’s plan might not have worked, but you’re definitely helping people outside of that,” Harper encouraged. “But you deserve some rest now. I’ll have a more…traditional assignment for you in the morning.”

“I’ll see you then,” Abby promised, and walked off to her own tent, ready to just forget the past couple days for a few hours. But of course that wasn’t to be, as the Chronicler was waiting for her in the tent, sitting on one of the chairs, an expectant smile on his face.

“Agent Gertrude, glad you finally took a break,” he greeted. “I thought Harper might send you out before we had a chance to properly talk.”

“I’d prefer to talk when it _isn’t_ close to midnight,” Abby muttered, sitting onto the makeshift bed with a thump. “There isn’t _any_ better time?”

“Since Harper is planning to send you out early, unfortunately not,” the Chronicler apologized, with a small incline of his head. “And I need to get to work as well. An army isn’t going to grow itself.”

Abby narrowed her eyes. “You want to talk? Fine. Who the hell _are_ you?”

“Originally an advisor to the now-Chancellor,” he said. “My job in EXALT was rather…mundane. As my title implies, I chronicled the history of the world, the _true_ history, without the assumptions and manipulation of historians.”

Abby eyed him skeptically. “Sure. What were you _actually_ doing?”

“How suspicious,” he tsked. “Well, I knew for decades that an alien force was real, and would be coming back someday. But I also knew that for humanity to effectively defend themselves, well, how do I put this? This world had to be… _reorganized_. It had to be united under one government and order. EXALT was the best chance to see that goal realized, and so I helped them achieve it.”

“You used them.” Abby said.

“Not in the way you were thinking,” the Chronicler corrected. “I _helped_ them. I was just the unassuming voice in the back of their minds, offering suggestions, guidance and direction that they acted on. I never directly took control of them, but I did plant seeds that had the desired effects. Luckily I never had to try hard, as EXALT was filled with highly intelligent people. Saudia in particular is one of the best leaders EXALT has produced.”

“So is the only reason EXALT made peace was because you ‘suggested’ it?” Abby demanded incredulously.

“I would say it is a consequence, yes,” the Chronicler nodded. “I did not expect the aliens to return so soon. I also did not anticipate XCOM or the Commander. Otherwise my plans would have been different, but at one point I did make a point of telling Saudia that her enemies might become allies, and that our true enemy was the aliens. Everything that happened after that was all her.”

“And she doesn’t know what you are,” Abby finished.

“No, and it will remain that way,” he said, his voice turning a bit hard. “As far as I am concerned, my mission with EXALT is accomplished. Saudia will bring order to this world, and I will begin working on my own plans. No one knows about me aside from you. Not ADVENT, not XCOM and not the aliens, and I intend to use that to strike when the time is right.”

“Fine, let’s go with that,” Abby said. “But you don’t need to do it alone. The Commander isn’t an idiot. He would be a much better ally than enemy, and he _will_ consider you an enemy if you don’t let him know what you are.”

“He isn’t an idiot,” the Chronicler said grimly. “But he would never allow a psion to be free that he doesn’t control. He considers psions potential dangers and doesn’t trust anyone else outside of XCOM to use their powers responsibly. At best I would be captured, at worst executed. The Commander doesn’t negotiate about certain things, Abby, and I think you know this.”

He fixed her with a hard stare. “It is why you need to keep this to yourself. I assure you that I will be a much better asset on my own than whatever the Commander plans for me.”

Abby frowned. “And how do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Because we are having this conversation now,” the Chronicler sighed. “I do not use my abilities on innocent people unless necessary. If I wanted to, I could simply force you to comply, but I would prefer not to do that.”

“So you’re considering it,” Abby stated.

“I did,” he admitted. “Although it’s too late now. If I was to change your mind now, I would likely have to wipe the past day out of your mind, and I have a feeling that would raise questions, and with the right people, they would guess what would happen. The risk is too high, and now I must hope I made the right decision.”

Abby sincerely wished Patricia was here, or someone who could tell if he was actually telling the truth. On the surface he _seemed_ to be genuine, and Abby didn’t especially think he posed a threat. Maybe the Commander would see differently, but she didn’t know…“Let’s say I agree to keep this to myself,” she said, crossing her legs. “What exactly is your plan?”

“As I said, build an army,” he repeated. “Many of the aliens are simple, and easy to manipulate. The town I now control will house them, and they will naturally go about their business, until one day I give the order. I will go to other camps, have them transfer over here and enslave them to me. It is difficult to explain how I can assure this without you being a psion, but rest assured I know what I am doing.”

Abby thought back to what she knew about psionics. In theory it was possible, and after seeing what Patricia could do, it wasn’t hard to buy that the Chronicler could accomplish this. The mind was a tricky thing, and if he _could_ do as he promised…should she really mess with that?

 _If he is building an army, we need it_.

That they did. But was is smart to _not_ tell anyone in XCOM about this? It was an either-or situation, since she knew the Chronicler would learn either way. He might _say_ he wouldn’t read her mind, but at the very least he would be able to tell if she was lying or not.

_Why not give him a chance? Make him prove he can do as promised before deciding to tell someone or not._

That idea seemed…fair.  If he really _was_ powerful enough to control an army of aliens, then he should be able to prove it. If he did, then great, he was an asset she would tolerate. If he _couldn’t_ , then she’d report him to XCOM. Seemed fair, and it was a compromise she didn’t think he’d object to. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. “If you can really build your own private army, that’s too much of an asset to just throw away. But I want to see if you can actually do it. Prove it, and I’ll let you keep working. If you can’t, then I’ll report you to XCOM.”

The Chronicler smiled. “I can work with that. How soon will you want results?”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” Abby said, frowning. “But at least a month, probably. You have three weeks to produce something. And no mind tricks either if you fail. Try that and I’ll have contingencies.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confirmed, sounding rather eager. “Very well then, Agent. You’ll see my army very soon. I think you’ll be impressed with what I can do.”

“Good luck,” Abby said, laying down on the bed. “Now I’d like to sleep, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he said, standing up in a smooth motion. “Rest easy, agent. I’ll see you in three weeks.”

Abby didn’t hear him exit, but she wouldn’t have heard anyway because she asleep seconds after her head hit the firm pillow.

***

_The Praesidium, Genetic Modification Labs_

The Praesidium was perhaps the most perfect base he could have asked for research purposes. The Commander might despise the Sectoids, but they definitely knew what they were doing, and it had taken Vahlen a short amount of time to set up her multiple stations of research, from weapons, alien artifacts and genetic modification.

The Commander paused outside the room, raised his hand over the sensor and drew on some of his psionic energy. The XCOM logo turned blue and the door unlocked before him soundlessly. The Commander stepped through and heard the door click behind him as he started walking down the short corridor to the entry to the Modification Labs themselves.

As they slid open before him, he once more was continually impressed with how Vahlen ran an organized project. The room was massive, but quartered off into different sections. Once was dedicated autopsy table with scientists performing detailed analysis to the creature’s physiology, all connected to powerful computers that displayed HD screens and holographic representation.

The others were largely for scientific experimentation, with various pieces of unnamable equipment filling them up, all monitored by teams of scientists. One section was Vahlen’s dedicated zoo, where she stored all the animals she’d imported for genetic analysis. It was a…curious bunch, to say the least.

He didn’t see Vahlen yet, so walked over to where she was keeping her horde of test animals. Birds of prey, vultures, rats, dogs, jellyfish, he wasn’t entirely sure what her plan was for each, but no doubt they had a part to play in her designs. There were cats somewhere around as well, but Vahlen seemed content to let them wander around the labs.

Along the wall behind the cages were vats where Sectoids had once been grown, which were now used for Chryssalid creation. Vahlen was keeping the grown ones in stasis, and since they didn’t have an unlimited amount of space, she was refraining from growing more. The Commander wasn’t sure when the best time to use the Chryssalids would be, but he imagined it would be soon. He supposed Saudia deserved a heads-up before he unleashed them onto the field.

However, now he did notice a small addition to her collection, but it surprisingly appeared to be insects. Specifically a large ant farm, but something was horribly wrong with it. He took a closer look, peering into the glass. To his surprise, all of the ants were dead, and there was…something, growing out of their corpses. A fungus? It was white and definitely resembled one, but he wasn’t a biologist. Was this experimentation for a new weapon?

“A specialized weapon, yes,” Vahlen said, coming up behind him and feeling very pleased with herself. “You caught on quick.”

“Well, you don’t like to waste things without reason,” the Commander said, turning to her with a smile. “The options were limited. But since you _are_ here now, perhaps you could explain?”

She returned his smile, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I suppose I can start with that. I do have a lot to show you,” she cleared her throat, and motioned to the ant farm. “Have you ever heard of the cordyceps?”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “I assume that is the fungus?”

“Correct,” she affirmed with a nod. “A very deadly parasitic fungi that slowly kills the host, as well as taking over its mind.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “A mind-controlling fungi?”

“Bad explanation,” she apologized. “It is more accurate to say as it kills the host, it forces it to act irrationally and abnormally. I actually developed this to assist in the resistance groups holding out in the Oceanic nations. It’s only a matter of time before they start using Chryssalids, and I believe I have developed a way to assist in negating that.”

“You’ve weaponized it?” He asked, already impressed. “That was fast, especially since I remember you only mentioning something like this several weeks ago.”

“I’ve created a strain that can affect chryssalids,” she said, handing him a tablet. “Chryssalids are insects, so it required a minimal amount of work to successfully infect one.” The picture she showed was of a dead Chryssalid, similar white growths protruding from its body, eyes and legs. “The problem, of course, is that there needs to be some way of infecting the Chryssalid itself.”

“I assume you came up with a solution?” He asked. She nodded and beckoned him over to another table, this one with plants on them, and a fungi, as he saw.

“This is a cordyceps plant in its purest form,” Vahlen explained. “Normally the Chryssalids wouldn’t touch it, but I modified it to also excrete pheromones that make it irresistible to them. Once they eat, they become infected. I also sped up the rate of death to nearly a day instead of several. It will emit spores, but those will not affect large areas beyond the plant itself. And in addition to that, it _will_ have an immediate impact.”

“So the resistance groups there can plant these around the islands to trick the Chryssalids,” the Commander nodded. “Smart.”

“I can create dozens in a few days,” Vahlen said, nodding towards the vats. “The cloning equipment the Sectoids have is exceptional, and far more versatile than I first assumed. Although there are several factors that I have not yet determined that should be taken into consideration.”

He nodded, turning back to her. “Such as?”

“This species is a parasite,” she reminded him, frowning. “Which means that it will affect native species as well. I’ve also designed it to spread to grow more after a certain amount of time. My point is that it could potentially disrupt the ecosystems there, perhaps permanently.”

“But it would stop the Chryssalids,” the Commander said, turning back to the fungi.

“It would,” Vahlen confirmed. “And I have naturally made our own Chryssalids immune to the temptation of this plant.”

The Commander considered that for a moment. But it wasn’t a hard decision. If they didn’t get rid of the aliens, there wouldn’t exactly be an Earth left to fix. “Talk to Jackson to begin distribution,” he ordered Vahlen, turning back to her. “If this will keep the resistance groups alive, then I want to use it. If it causes environmental damage…we’ll fix it after the war.”

“I assumed you’d say that,” Vahlen said, a satisfied smile on her face. “I’ve already begun production of several dozen specimens. I wouldn’t concern yourself over the impact quite yet either. Negative change will likely not take effect for years, a decade at least for any real change to be noticed.”

“Well, one topic down,” he said, looking towards the Subject Chambers. “Now, what else have you been working on?”

She grinned and motioned for him to follow as they made their way towards the chambers where Vahlen performed her Human experimentation. “I’ve begun finalizing a new batch of genetic enhancements for our soldiers,” she explained as she unlocked the door psionically. “All that is really needed is your authorization, but I think you’ll be _very_ impressed with what I’ve managed.”

“Do you still have enough subjects?” He asked as the door slid open and they walked through.

“I’ll need a new batch after I order these current ones to be harvested for MELD,” Vahlen mused, glancing down at her tablet. “But I’ve already made arrangements with Jackson.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded, taking stock of the brightly lit cells, all segmented by gray alien alloys and occupied by a Human subject of some kind. There was an aura of terror and pain that washed over him the second he stepped inside, and he could only imagine what it was like for Vahlen. He didn’t fail to note that their terror increased every time she glanced in their direction.

He couldn’t really blame them, though he also couldn’t muster up much sympathy for their current situation. After all, this was simply a consequence of their own actions. “Aegis has been extremely helpful in development,” Vahlen said, as they stopped in front of a cell with the occupant, a Caucasian man, laying on the ground. “He was helpful in applying what I learned from the Ravaged One’s autopsy.”

“What did you learn?” The Commander asked, looking down at the man whose skin was almost translucent, and screaming at every twitch of his muscles. “I know you mentioned the Ravaged One could be the key to one of your projects.”

“Indeed,” Vahlen nodded, also looking down at the man. “You noted how easily his skin was able to heal and wound itself at the same time? I wanted to apply that for our own soldiers. Make them heal wounds almost instantaneously, an idea I first got from the simple jellyfish. And thanks to the now deceased Ethereal, and our new ally, I have done it.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t look that good.”

“He was a failed experiment,” Vahlen explained. “Sort of. His skin _does_ do what I wanted to, but somehow his brain interpreted it as any kind of position other than his initial one is a wound. Thus, he is essentially trapped in place. Painful, but since his body does perform what we needed it to, it is useful for gathering data. _This_ one, however, is the finished product.”

They stepped over to the next cell, where another man was standing. His skin was also slightly translucent, or maybe it was just the light. In any case, it wasn’t nearly as noticeable as the previous subject. Also in the room was a small portable table, and on it were several different weapons. A knife, a gun, and several vials of various colored liquids. The moment he saw Vahlen, he began backing up, saying something the Commander couldn’t hear or read from his lips.

“I assume you’d like a demonstration?” Vahlen asked, turning to him.

The Commander smirked. “If you could. Though he doesn’t exactly seem cooperative.”

“Not an issue,” Vahlen promised, and turned her gaze to the man while placing a palm on the glass. The Commander watched, fascinated as her iris turned purple as she drew upon her own power to take over the man in the cell. The test subject suddenly became still, his own eyes turning a faint purple as Vahlen took over his mind.

Without any words, the man walked forward, picked up the knife and slashed his wrist without hesitation. Blood sprayed everywhere initially, and started pouring out, although in seconds had already slowed to a faint drip. The Commander watched in amazement as the skin around the wrist healed at a visible rate, until the only sign of injury was the slowly drying blood on his hand.

Vahlen took her hand off the glass and the man stumbled back as she withdrew her mind. “That also runs through the entire body. All internal organs heal the same way, which in effect makes our soldiers immune to chemical weapons.”

“Amazing,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “A soldier would be almost invincible.”

“Almost, not quite,” Vahlen agreed. “A headshot will still kill them, and severed limbs can’t be regrown. Theoretically blood loss would also be a concern, and certain organs can’t be repaired if severely damaged enough, such as eyes, but for the most part, they would be…difficult to kill.”

The Commander nodded. “I’m curious. Why does the skin have that almost translucent effect?”

“A side effect of incorporating jellyfish genetics,” Vahlen explained quickly. “Their skin is extremely thin, if you’ve noticed, and that is a reason I found they were able to repair so fast. The skin of those with this genetic modification is thinner than regular Human skin, and does occasionally give a translucent effect under the right lighting.”

She then beckoned him to the next cell over. “However, I was curious about the opposite outcome. Instead of making the skin softer and easier to heal, I experimented with making it impenetrable. Aegis’ own skin is essentially impossible to penetrate with even our gauss weapons, so I wanted to apply that to humans.”

The Commander glanced over at her. “Aegis’ skin is that resistant?”

“Yes, a surprise to be sure,” Vahlen said, contemplating the female subject before her. “But a welcome one nonetheless. Apparently only a few Ethereals have it, combat-focused ones like the Battlemaster, him, and the Imperator. But I believe I was successful, and it only took one subject to bring about.”

The Commander looked inside the cell. The woman looked exhausted and terrified, and her skin seemed to shimmer with some kind of faint marking…he focused on it. It was unmistakable, almost imperceptible hexagons lined every piece of skin on her body, almost like near-invisible scales or armor. Clearly an effect of the modification.

Like the last cell, this one had an array of weapons, but of a much higher caliber. A gauss rifle, pistol and alloy cannon were all lined up on the cell wall. Vahlen repeated the same mind-control as she had with the previous test subject, and the woman fell into a blank state, walked over to the table and picked up the pistol.

The Commander raised an eyebrow as she placed the pistol under her chin, but refrained from commenting. She pulled the trigger with a _bang_ and she went stumbling back onto the ground. She didn’t rise, but the Commander noted she was still breathing. “She survived a point-blank pistol shot,” The Commander muttered. “Amazing.”

“I would still advise not getting shot in the head,” Vahlen suggested, releasing her control. “We have noted that there can be damage done to the brain and hearing, as you can see.” She frowned, looking at the motionless woman. “A loss, but she can be replaced. What is important is that it does provide invulnerability to almost all projectile-based arms, and even plasma weapons have a limited effect on their skin.”

Vahlen pursed her lips. “However, with this particular modification, there are a few downsides, the most obvious being that internal injuries would be difficult to heal in the field since it would be nearly impossible to penetrate their skin. That, and it is difficult to apply new modifications in addition to this one, so it a sense it would ‘lock out’, any new modifications for a specific individual.”

Vahlen smiled again. “Which is why I needed to develop a separate modification to help address some of these issues.” The Commander followed as she led him to yet another cell where a man was sitting on the ground, looking more bored than anything else. “Notice anything?” Vahlen asked.

The Commander looked over the man, but didn’t see any sort of obvious modification, and unlike the other subjects, this man only seemed mildly annoyed with them both staring at him. “No,” the Commander admitted. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Exactly,” Vahlen smiled, clasping her hands behind her back proudly. “He is perfectly healthy. He has also been exposed to over thirty fatal diseases and induced cancers. All of which haven’t affected him in the least.”

“You made him immune to disease,” the Commander said, turning to her. “How? Modifying the regeneration modification for internal organs only?”

“Partially,” Vahlen clarified, smiling. “My main inspiration for this particular modification was the vulture. They are practically immune to disease, so I took what made that possible, and applied it to a Human. Before Aegis helped solve the regeneration modification, it was working, but not foolproof. There was always something that would get through and kill the subject. But once I applied the ability for the internal organs to heal themselves, as well as modifying the immune system itself, _then_ I was able to create a disease-immune individual.” Vahlen pause briefly. “A perfect addition to the Iron Skin modification, or any other one for that matter.”

The Commander made a mental note to make her dinner the next time he got a chance, maybe attempt _Rouladen_ again. She deserved something more than another raise for the work she was doing. “I don’t suppose you have anything else?” He asked, thinking her showcase was done.

“One more,” she said with a knowing smile, and motioned him over to one final cell. “This is an attempted offensive modification. You know armor is the greatest protection most of the aliens have, so I attempted to find a way to work around that. The best way I found was a means to strike the weak points of their armor and insert a toxin into their body.”

She waved an arm to the cell. “And I do believe I have done it.”

The subject in the cell seemed mostly normal, aside from a small bulge under his right wrist, that seemed to be holstering something vertical to his arm, inside a small opening that pointed outwards. The arm itself also appeared a big larger than the opposite one, but only slightly. Vahlen once more took control of the man, and a pale tentacle-like stand shot out from the opening until it was held up vertically, a translucent point at the end, dripping with something.

The appendage appeared at least as tall as the man himself, who was close to six feet, and it appeared to be held up under its own power. At what he presumed was Vahlen’s suggestion, the stinger appendage immediately retracted into the arm. “That is…different,” the Commander admitted. “How effective is it?”

“The toxin I created for it is derived from a variety of the most venomous creatures in the world,” Vahlen explained. “Let’s just say Aegis was hesitant to get near it. I’ve also made the stinger able to be fully manipulated by the individual for precise control, and it’s strong enough to resist cuts and will heal from any wounds it suffers. I’m curious how it will work on the battlefield outside of simulations.”

“Carmelita will probably like it,” the Commander said. “It’s certainly the most unique one I’ve seen from you. But exceptional job. I think it’s time to put our genetic modification program into full swing, especially since we have a surplus of MELD, with more on the way.”

“That we do,” Vahlen said with a smile. “The only other update I have is for the Manchurian Project, which has made progress, but unfortunately nothing substantial.” She motioned to the cells. “With the war becoming more intense, I believed this should be my priority before returning to it. But in short, the command system is down and specific instructions can be programmed into the individual.”

She frowned. “There is still an issue of not overwriting the personality of the individual in question, but that will be the next issue I tackle. Still, this should be enough to last for the next few months while improvements are made.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the Commander nodded. “You’ve certainly done more than enough. Far more than I expected, truth be told. But I’m sure our soldiers will be thanking you for it. If it wasn’t clear, I approve all these modifications for use in the field.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Vahlen said gratefully. “I couldn’t have really done it without you.”

“Hey, all of this was you,” the Commander chided, giving in and finally pulling her into a tight hug. “I just let you do what you do best.”

She instantly relaxed into him. “And I think that’s one thing I like most about you. You trust me to make the right decisions.”

“You’ve certainly proven you can,” he said, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. “If anything, I think you deserve a break.”

“Mhmm, maybe,” Vahlen murmured, her eyes closed. “Maybe I’ll end work a few hours earlier. Although you would do well to do the same.”

He chuckled, stroking her hair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

***

_The Praesidium, Office of the Commander_

Now was the time to have the conversation that he personally was not entirely looking forward to: The future of psionics under XCOM. It was a necessary step, but one he didn’t exactly think would go over that well with the psions themselves. But it was necessary, and they needed to have a serious discussion on it, especially with Patricia and Aegis training a new batch.

Zhang and Aegis himself were going to be important here, and the Commander saw no reason to delay any longer. “I just spoke with Vahlen. The Manchurian Project is still underway, but I suspect it will be at least several months until it is in a position where I am comfortable utilizing it.”

Zhang frowned, then glanced up at the towering Ethereal next to him. “If that is the case, I am not comfortable training new psions that we cannot ensure the loyalty of.”

“Loyalty isn’t a concern yet,” the Commander dismissed. “Frankly, I don’t think it will become one until the war ends.”

“Do not make such assumptions,” Aegis warned. “All species are subject to the traps of arrogance and power. Even your soldiers are no exception here.”

“You’ve observed them,” the Commander noted. “Do you sense anything malevolent or concerning?”

Aegis was silent for a few moments. “No. Not yet. But people change over time, Commander, and power reveals the true nature of people. It is impossible for all of them to withstand corruption of some sort. I will do my best to mitigate it, but it will not last forever. Director Zhang is correct to be concerned.”

“Appreciated,” Zhang said dryly, looking back at the Commander. “Psions are weapons of mass destruction, Commander. If even one goes rogue, then we have a problem. If one as powerful as _Patricia_ ever does, we’ll have a catastrophe. Can we really afford to take that chance?”

“You don’t have to sell me on the necessity,” the Commander sighed. “I was the one who started the project, remember? It’s just taking longer than I’d like.”

“But I am saying it needs to be our priority,” Zhang insisted, his emotional state ice cold. “While Vahlen’s genius is no doubt something the soldiers will appreciate, you need to push her to finish the Project. Or is she reluctant because she would be subjected to it as well?”

“It’s not for personal reasons,” the Commander said, leaning against the cool wall. “She didn’t see it as the largest priority in comparison to the grand scheme of the war. That’s it. Now that her modification projects are complete, she can focus on this one.”

“This does raise a question I have yet to receive an answer to,” Aegis interrupted, curiosity tinging his tone. “Do you plan on subjecting yourself to the Manchurian Program once it is complete?”

“Yes,” the Commander answered. “There won’t be exceptions, you included.”

“We did not discuss this.” Aegis stated flatly.

“Not initially, no,” the Commander agreed, looking up at the silver helm of the Ethereal. “But of everyone here, you alone are the most dangerous. Sorry, but I’m not going to risk you betraying us, and I’m sure you can understand why.”

“You don’t even know if it can be applied to an Ethereal,” Aegis pointed out. “I would prefer you at least learn that before I allow your scientists to tamper with my brain.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to capture one,” the Commander said, half-sarcastically. “I personally don’t like it either. I’m not exactly keen on being at the mercy of a code word, but it would be hypocritical to exempt myself or you from this program, wouldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily,” Aegis stated. “By subjecting yourself to a code, anyone who has access to it would be able to control you. That is a risk you should also consider. It is also an inherent flaw with this entire program. With the right information, your entire army of psions could be turned against you.”

“No, because we control the code words,” the Commander reminded him. “If on the off chance someone did learn of a code word and attacked, we could simply shut them down. Vahlen has developed contingencies and backups if anyone is somehow compromised. It isn’t as simple as a ‘single code word controls everything.’”

“And who would have your code word?” Aegis asked. “Vahlen?”

“No,” the Commander answered, shaking his head. “She is not exactly unbiased when it comes to me, nor I with her. Zhang or Jackson would have the code word for me, and I would likely not know it myself to prevent a psion from attempting to read my mind and learning it that way.”

“Honorable,” Aegis commented. “I see no reason to not exempt yourself, as you are one of the most important figures in this war. But if you insist, there is very little I can do on my own. The Battlemaster would likely approve.”

“Good for him,” the Commander shrugged. “But until the program is completed, train the psions as best you can. I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“But watch Patricia,” Zhang suggested, glancing up at Aegis. “Make sure she isn’t compromised.”

The Commander snorted. “Please.”

“I would prefer we keep an eye on her,” Zhang said, now looking to the Commander. “You read the dossier from Yates. I see no reason not to ensure she is on our side.”

“If Patricia were not on our side, we would definitely know about it,” the Commander sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “People don’t just flip, Zhang. _If_ , and I mean _If_ , she ever decided to abandon XCOM, it’s not going to be without warning or reasons, and as the dossier noted, all she needs to be shown is that the plan is sound and correct.”

“Forgive me for not being so sure,” Zhang muttered sarcastically. “I would prefer a woman who can cripple entire armies with her mind be securely under our control.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the Commander promised. “Patricia doesn’t do things irrationally, and besides, once the Manchurian Program is complete we won’t have to ever worry about that.”

Zhang pursed his lips. “Then I suggest you make Vahlen finish it as soon as possible.”

“I’ll remind her,” the Commander promised. “But there are bigger things than the worse-case scenario here, Zhang. We still have a war to win, after all, and I suspect that the next battle will be upon us soon.”

***

_The Praesidium, Engineering Bay_

The Engineering Bay here was far less quiet than the one at the Citadel. Alien tech in general was much less abrasive than what Humans typically developed. But it was certainly no less potent. The Sectoids had left behind quite a few interesting pieces of tech that the Commander knew Shen was attempting to figure out, but in the meantime, had made do with what had been transported from the Citadel to here.

And now it was time to discuss the larger plans for what was to be created. Aegis had brought a wealth of knowledge, which was likely why Shen had asked the Ethereal to be present when they met. The Commander was going to try and shield Shen’s mind from the worst of Aegis’ aura, but he wasn’t nearly as skilled as Patricia or Vahlen.

Still though, his mind was rather distinct and the Commander weaved his way through the myriad of engineers and equipment until he stepped into the new Cybernetics Lab, which currently only housed Aegis and Shen, both of whom were already discussing schematics that were holographically displayed in front of them.

The MEC suits were also propped up along the walls, bent over and their chests exposed in a shutdown state. It put into perspective how tall they were when Aegis barely reached the shoulder of the Marauder-class MEC suit. The Commander focused on Shen’s mind, and visualized something of a buffer, attempting to block out Aegis’ influence which luckily wasn’t even trying to affect his brain.

Shen stiffened as he did so, then looked behind him to see the Commander walking up. “Glad you came so quickly,” Shen said, recovering quickly. “We have a lot to go over. Aegis and I were discussing where my teams should put their focus.”

“The Gateways will be paramount to the defense of your world,” Aegis said immediately, nodding towards the hologram. “The Collective can strike anywhere, and the response needs to be immediate.”

The Commander looked at the hologram, which appeared to be a structure that resembled a _U_ with the curves slightly inward, but not touching. On the arms were additional features that he assumed were either energy projectors or focusers of some kind. In the middle of the structure was what he assumed was a visual representation of the energy field, which in this case looked like a miniature whirlpool.

“So explain this Gateway,” the Commander said, crossing his arms. “How exactly does it work?”

“The short version is that it acts like a portal,” Shen began. “Theoretically, it can allow instant transportation from one Gateway to another, distance is no object. As to how it works…” Shen trailed off. “It’s complicated enough that I’m still puzzling it out, and Aegis unfortunately has little idea either. From what I can decipher, it appears to act as a miniature controlled wormhole between two points. I’m considering bringing in a physicist specializing in these kind of theories to help sort this out. I _can_ build it as-is, and it would probably work, but I do not like building pieces of equipment I do not understand.”

The Commander could sympathize. That being said… “But you _can_ do it.”

Shen sighed. “I believe so, and Aegis knows how to set up configure the Gateways, so we could begin using them immediately.”

“Yes,” Aegis agreed. “And it might be advisable to send these to ADVENT as well. Gateways can be configured to each other, regardless of distance or time created. All that is needed is the Gateway number and coordinate numbers. The more Gateways established on Earth, the easier it will be for both ADVENT and XCOM to defend.”

“Except that presents a problem,” Shen pointed out with a sudden frown. “If any Gateway can be linked to each other, what’s to stop the Collective from linking to a vulnerable one controlled by us?”

“An excellent question,” Aegis said, radiating approval. “Nothing. However, I highly doubt they will utilize this tactic for two reasons. The first is that the knowledge of both the Gateway codes and coordinate numbers should only be known to a select few people. Without that, they cannot act. However, it works both ways. I have lists of Gateways established in the Collective. Unless they wish to provoke me, they will not attempt something so… _underhanded_.”

The Commander appraised the Ethereal. “Interesting choice of words.”

“I would also not expect the Battlemaster to utilize such a tactic either,” Aegis added. “He would consider himself above it.”

“Well, I don’t have the same restriction,” the Commander said. “If you have Gateways, it would be a good idea to use them.”

“I agree,” Aegis said after a moment of silence. “But not now. If you were to attack through a Gateway, you would trigger a much larger response from the Collective than you could hope to handle. It would be a death warrant for not only XCOM, but the entire planet, and it shouldn’t be utilized until much later in the war. Preferably after Earth is secure.”

Aegis did have a point there. Still, it was something to keep in mind for the future. “The Collective will establish their own Gateways here, correct?”

“Assuredly,” Aegis confirmed. “I would be surprised if construction hasn’t begun in Australia, and possibly their foothold in Japan. From there they have a nearly unlimited supply of reinforcements.”

“Which is going to be a problem,” the Commander muttered. “Can the Gateways be transported?”

“Technically, yes,” Aegis said slowly. “However, Gateway Transports are rare due to the amount of power they consume. I do not foresee the Collective using them in the near future. Their cost would be unjustified, especially if the battle is lost. They are also distinct, so the ship could be easily targeted.”

“I assume that Gateways are not just limited to Earth?” Shen interjected, curious. “This could be useful beyond just military application.”

“Yes, it is the primary mode of long-distance travel in the Collective,” Aegis confirmed. “Each established system has its own Gateway, which can then be configured for any system in the Collective. It is highly efficient, and allows near-instantaneous reinforcement. Your own Solar system likely has one now as well.”

“Wonderful,” the Commander sighed. “So they can replenish their forces within days.”

“Precisely,” Aegis confirmed grimly. “But I wouldn’t overly concern yourself yet. The Battlemaster, for better or worse, with be methodical and slow. There will be plenty of time to react and plan.”

“Speaking of plans,” Shen interjected, changing the hologram. “I believe the design for the Firestorm is essentially complete. All that really remains is your authorization to begin construction.”

“Granted,” the Commander said without hesitation. “We need ships that can compete in the skies. The Ravens are good, but they won’t be enough.”

“In which case, it might be worthwhile to establish a dedicated Hangar,” he suggested, killing the hologram and turning to him. “If we want to build our own fleet, the Praesidium is simply not large enough.”

Shen raised a good point, and the Commander had also noted that particular issue, though didn’t think it would become one for a while. “We’d need someplace isolated, and preferably not affiliated with ADVENT.”

“I’ll confer with Jackson,” Shen said with a nod. “And concerning a fleet…there is something very interesting Aegis showed me.”

“A prototype Andromedon craft,” Aegis said, switching the hologram to display a new craft that was wholly unlike any before it. It appeared to be much blockier and angular than the regular alien crafts, and from the sides of the craft, at the front and back, were what he assumed were circular engines. “This was supposed to be a Strike-Battleship as they called it. Not the largest ship in their fleet, but one with enough firepower and maneuverability to destroy any modern flagship.”

“We don’t have the space or resources to construct it yet,” Shen admitted, giving the ghost of a smile as he looked at the hologram. “But if we complete it, we would be able to rival the alien fleet on Earth. Hence why I designated it as the _Avenger_ _Project_.”

A bit melodramatic, but it was good to see Shen so eager to work. Maybe it was Aegis affecting him, but the elderly man looked more energetic than he had for a while. Or maybe it was all the information he was getting from Aegis that was beyond what he could have imagined.

“Is there anything else you want to show me?” The Commander asked.

“I’ve begun development on the Jaeger-class MEC,” Shen said, handing him a detailing schematic. Just like he’d envisioned, a much smaller humanoid and sleek suit with a built-in sniper rifle and melee weapons. From the designs, it appeared to only be as tall as Aegis, but if estimations were correct, strong enough to break the neck of a Muton. Fascinating. “I’ve also ordered construction of more Marauder, Ballista and Goliath-class MECs,” Shen finished. “I know it’s only a matter of time before we lose one.”

“Good thinking,” the Commander approved with a nod. “How is progress on plasma weaponry going?”

“Still slow,” Shen admitted. “Aegis gave us the schematics, but it requires small elerium cores, which he unfortunately doesn’t know how to create. We don’t know enough about elerium to create them, so until we do so, our weapons research is somewhat halted. There are just so many projects to work on.”

That they were. The Manchurian Project and Elerium both seemed pressing, and he wasn’t sure which he should have Vahlen focus on. But Zhang was right, the Manchurian program needed to be completed and their own weapons were dealing with the aliens fine. Until that changed…he’d keep her working on that.

“Thanks for keeping me up to date,” he told Shen. “Good luck on the development. I’ll also talk with Jackson about an external XCOM hangar.”

“Sounds good,” Shen nodded. “I’ll send a report shortly.” With that, the Commander left, more than happy with how things were progressing, though he had to be careful not to become _too_ confident. Very little was more insidious than overconfidence, even that which was well-founded.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

Oliver held the piece of paper in his hands, eyeing it with something resembling suspicion. “This is…different.”

“Indeed,” Anastaysia Shevchenko agreed, her fists propping up her cheeks. The young Ukrainian was almost petite, at least for a soldier. Or maybe he was just getting old. Either way, she’d been pleasant to talk to, and had provided an interesting perspective on the continuing war in the Middle East. That is, until several stacks of paper had been delivered and he’d picked one up.

He was expecting something to do with regulations, maybe arrangements to make things easier for the new batch of soldiers that was supposed to be coming soon. But no, it was something much stranger. “I don’t suppose you know if this is normal around here?”

She sniffed. “I’m as new as you. So no, I don’t. But considering some of the stuff I’ve seen around here, genetic modification seems perfectly possible to me.”

“I actually do believe the Commander writes this stuff,” Oliver commented. “It’s way too straightforward to have come from some PR department. It doesn’t have…hmm, _finesse_.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that used to describe him,” Anastaysia said, absentmindedly messing with the paper with a free hand. “I kinda like that.”

“That being said, quite a bit of this stuff seems fake,” Oliver admitted. “Skin that heals in minutes? A stinger appendage and some sort of immunity to disease? That seems way too good to be true.”

“Well, they clearly did something to Carmelita,” Anastaysia shrugged. “Unless you want to tell me that was just her natural ability to jump fifteen feet forward.”

She _did_ have a point. “Conceded. So are you thinking about it?”

“Hell yeah,” she said incredulously. “I mean, who wouldn’t? I don’t think XCOM would put out this opportunity if they couldn’t actually follow through.”

No, they probably wouldn’t. At least not publically. But in his experience, there was always a catch that came with stuff that was too good to be true, and he wanted to figure out what that was before potentially altering his body. A better idea might be to talk to Carmelita and find out exactly how legitimate this process was. Or maybe someone else who’d been here a while.

“What’s that?” Shun asked, striding over.

“An offer from the Commander,” Oliver answered, handing her the pamphlet. “Have you ever gotten tired of getting shot? Now with XCOM™ Genetic Modifications, you too don’t have to worry about bullets piercing your head ever again!”

“Brilliant sales pitch,” Anastaysia chuckled. “Apply to XCOM sales or something.”

“No, but seriously it looks like the Commander is wanting to push genetic modification,” Oliver said as Shun took a seat, looking over the paper intently. “You’ve been here a while. Do you think it’s as good as it sounds?”

“I…think so,” Shun said slowly. “Vahlen’s team has come up with some insane stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if they figured this out as well. I’m thinking that if the Commander is making this public for all soldiers, it means that he’s expecting the war to escalate.”

“So how is all of this possible?” Anastaysia asked Shun. “Alien tech?”

“I _think_ so,” Shun answered carefully. “I’ve heard the scientists talk about MELD. A kind of miracle tech if it can do half the stuff it’s apparently behind. Maybe not all true, but I do think it is responsible for a lot of the advances we’ve made. But I can say that whatever the Commander has approved, it is safe. He doesn’t risk soldiers for even Vahlen’s experiments.”

“Wait,” Oliver frowned. “How can he know it’s safe unless they’ve done tests on Humans?”

“Don’t know,” Shun admitted. “But Carmelita seems fine. The MECs are all mostly fine, and I know the Commander himself has undergone genetic modification. Whatever process they use, it seems to be working.”

“Right…” Oliver began, before trailing off. That set off all kinds of alarm bells in his head. On one hand, he believed Shun, and believed that the Commander wouldn’t put out something that would risk the lives of his soldiers. To do so would be a net negative, and the Commander didn’t seem like the type to take unnecessary risks.

But he didn’t buy for a second that there was a secret ‘process’ that made these procedures safe. Reality didn’t work like that. They were definitely performing tests on something or someone, but who or what that could be was a question he couldn’t answer, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. And if that _was_ how the Commander was making these safe for everyone, he wasn’t sure he wanted any part of it.

Maybe it was necessary, but Oliver had never been a large believe of ‘ends justifying the means’. That being said, he understood the thought process behind such people even if it was morally questionable at best. It was one reason why NATO had been appealing to him. At least he could believe for the most part that they weren’t performing heinous acts behind the scenes. For better or worse, they’d stuck to their principles even when it would be easier to break them for the greater good.

But he’d seen for a while which way the world was going. The War on Terror had been the biggest indicator of the changing opinions on what was worth doing. For everyone decrying the Commander’s actions, there had been two more endorsing him for the simple fact that he was performing it on terrible people.

Empathy was a very selective feeling, with it arising in people depending on subjectivity, and the truth was that most people could not feel empathy for people who they considered evil. The Commander had known this, and exploited it to an incredible degree. And when the world leaders condemned him, they were content to let him work and only half-heartedly try to put a stop to it.

But they’d never really _tried_. Because the Commander had done what the darkest parts of them had dreamed of, turning the Caliphate’s dream of a world under Islamic rule into a nightmare. And so the UN, NATO and everyone else was content to sit back and silently endorse his actions while providing little more than lip service.

It raised an interesting quandary: Was an evil action justifiable if it was performed on equally evil people? It was a question he still didn’t have a satisfactory answer to, and still wasn’t sure where he definitively stood on the issue. But if he had an option to do the right thing, he was going to do it, even if he was just left a regular Human.

But regular Human certainly wasn’t all bad. His head jerked up as he realized he’d missed part of Shun and Anastaysia’s conversation. “Ukraine?” Shun was saying. “I’m not sure we’ve had any soldiers from there.”

“Not as far as I know,” Anastaysia shrugged. “But I would have been involved regardless. If I wasn’t in XCOM, I’d probably be helping the Russians in Turkmenistan.”

“Turkmenistan?” Shun asked, frowning. “I thought it was Iran?”

“We were discussing that before the papers came,” Anastaysia said, nodding to Oliver. “And they are still in Iran, but they’re moving to the north and into Turkmenistan.”

“From everything I’ve seen, Iran is about to fold,” Oliver added. “It’s somewhat difficult to get reliable information, but the word is that the Iranian government is terrified about ADVENT. Don’t know what prompted that response.”

“Oh, I can answer that,” Anastaysia said knowingly. “I have a friend there now. Apparently, ADVENT isn’t exactly…eh, _nice_ to the captured cities. It’s essentially a police state.”

“I’m somehow not surprised,” Oliver sighed. “ADVENT has not exactly put out the image of peace and tolerance. So what did they do? Round up all the men and segregate them?”

“Not just the men,” Anastaysia corrected, shaking her head. “But the women and children too. Entire families were taken into custody to be vetted. ADVENT is _very_ thorough if what he’s told me is accurate. This was pretty early in their attacks. I’m guessing communications are forbidden now or something, since I haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

“Hopefully they’ll just surrender,” Shun sighed. “They have to know they can’t win.”

“It’s a point of pride,” Oliver explained. “Iran has seen the west as a rival at best, and enemy at worst for _decades_. To lose so decisively to them is humiliating, and they aren’t just going to lose, I can guarantee ADVENT will completely try to erase their culture and government. This war has been referred to by a large number of people as a _purge_ , and I fear they are right.”

“Then maybe they should have thought before provoking Israel,” Shun shrugged. “Sorry, but I don’t have much sympathy for them. It’s bad that things aren’t good for the innocent people caught in the crossfire, but as far as I’m concerned, there are a lot more important things to worry about.”

“Copy that,” Anastaysia nodded firmly. “It’s not like this is a question. The Middle East is going to fall and hopefully all that instability will die along with it. Good riddance, I say.”

Oliver sighed, since it was a lot more complicated than that, but had the feeling that the two women wouldn’t really be open to that particular viewpoint and he had no desire for a debate. Right now, he really needed some time alone to think, what with the new genetic modifications and questions raised.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Anastaysia,” Oliver said, getting up. “But I think I’ll try and track down some more information on this genetic program. It’s certainly a lot to think about.”

“Just Ana, please,” she said with a smile. “The feeling is mutual, and good luck. Let me know if you learn anything important!”

“Will do,” he promised, and walked off with a bunch of unanswered questions haunting him every step of the way.

***

_The Praesidium, Psionic Testing Chambers_

It was excellent timing that the Commander had gone forward with the publicly distributed genetic modification, since it overlapped perfectly with the awakening of new psions which would allow them to be enhanced as well, which would probably help their transition significantly. It was long past time for her to be upgraded as well, and the results were…nice.

Being able to literally jump a couple dozen feet in the air and land unharmed was a feeling that couldn’t exactly be replicated, nor was being able to see absurd distances. Her eyes were essentially like small powerful cameras which she used at will to zoom in and retract as needed. It had taken a bit to get used to, but she’d learned quickly.

The secondary heart that now pumped in her chest had definitely given her a stamina boost, and she somehow felt more energized. Hopefully it would allow her to work harder before she collapsed, or even better, helped her ensure she didn’t overexert herself to begin with. She looked down at her arm, once more looking at it with curiosity.

It looked the same as normal here, but she’d found that under the right lighting, there was definitely a translucent quality to it which she had been told was normal. A side-effect of the Biomuscular regeneration modification, but if that was the price she had to pay to be able to heal almost immediately, there wasn’t a question.

Most of the other psions had chosen their modifications somewhat determined on their aptitude which Patricia and Aegis had been able to fairly easily determine. Not all of them had taken as many options as possible, but all of them at least had _some_ , and at least one of the skin modifications Vahlen had developed.

To her mild surprise, there was an almost even split between the psions deciding between the Iron Skin and Biomuscular regeneration mods. Many of the Defense-aptitude psions had taken the Iron Skin modification, like Iosif, Allison and Said. On the flip side, most of the Attack-aptitude psions had, quite logically, taken the Biomuscular regeneration due to the damage that was otherwise inflicted on their bodies. Nataliya and Chan had both commented to her how much less pain they felt while training. Patricia had wished they had something like this when Annette was still alive. She’d known how much pain the young French woman had felt while using her considerable power.

The Telepaths and Telekinetics seemed pretty split, and beyond that people chose additional modifications as they saw fit. Most had taken the Secondary Heart, and all had the new Disease prevention mod. But there had been a few that had additionally taken the muscle-fiber density and the disconcerting Stinger modification as well. Several were still somewhat leery about genetic modification, but Patricia suspected they’d come around to it once they were able to put it into action.

Apparently there had been a decent number of applicants for the program, and the modification of them had severely drained the MELD stores which would have to be replenished soon. But Shen was already working on that, and Patricia was sure they’d recover more when the aliens attacked next. But when they _did_ , well, the aliens were going to be in for a big surprise.

But now she needed to focus on helping the psions here get more powerful. The introduction of Aegis had actually gone pretty smoothly, all things considered. The telepaths had known right away something was off, and the rest had mostly just…accepted it, quite rightly assuming that they knew what they were doing.

Although Allison’s reaction had been rather amusing, something along the lines of “What the fuck?” with several other choice words thrown in there. Apparently, she’d had an unexpected run-in with Aegis at some point and it had apparently scarred her for life, and she’d chalked it up to an extremely strange hallucination.

It was made especially ironic since Allison was a Defense-aptitude psion, and would be training directly under Aegis. She had been _thrilled_ to hear about it. But despite all of that, excellent progress was being made. Aegis, Iosif and Said together had quite a lot of experience, and were quickly training Dael and Allison to use their powers effectively.

The Commander was here today as well, and helping Matthew to teach Karen the more delicate aspects of Telekinetics. Quite honestly, telekinetics was rather self-explanatory, at least from what Patricia understood. Out of all of the designated specializations, it definitely seemed like the easiest to learn. It was more about directing and manipulating power, which honestly didn’t take much practice to get the hang of.

Since Karen was already lifting entire crates filled with metal in the air, she assumed it was going well. The Commander also seemed to be refining his powers, now more focused on more delicate control now that he knew he could lift the heavy stuff. Matthew still appeared to enjoy crushing things with his mind. Patricia wondered if he had some issues there. Oh well, as long as he took it out on the aliens, it was all good with her.

The lone Attack psions, Nataliya and Chan were unfortunately forced to experiment on their own, but Aegis had helped with some basics he knew, and already the psions were wreaking destruction on the helpless training dummies.

And she was assisting with the new Telepath, Jona, who had just grasped the basics of mind-control which she now planned to put it to the test. “Alright,” Patricia said, walking over to the wall where a metal cage was setting. “You can get into my mind when it’s undefended, now it’s time to try it on something else.”

“I did that _once_ ,” Jona mildly protested, looking at the cage apprehensively. “What exactly do you want me to –oh.”

Patricia snorted at the small _oh_ at the end as Jona realized what was in the cage. The chittering Chryssalid was not exactly happy, but Patricia wasn’t concerned. It was one of Vahlen’s, so it wouldn’t attack humans. But Patricia sensed that Jona wasn’t exactly recalling that. “Animals are good for practice,” Patricia continued. “I had to learn as I went, but you don’t have to do that. Remember how you did it with me. Focus on the mind.”

“That’s a _chryssalid_ ,” Jona said, as if she was blind. “Are you sure…”

“Don’t worry,” Fatima encouraged, walking up and wiping her face with a towel. “The chryssalid won’t attack. They’re Vahlen’s and hers don’t attack humans.”

“Close your eyes if it helps,” Patricia suggested, focusing on Jona’s own mind to calm her slightly. “Sense the mind that you think is the chryssalid. It should be very distinct.”

Jona bit her lip, but complied and Patricia sensed her becoming calmed once she closed her eyes and drew upon her power. The air around her shimmered slightly, and Patricia unlocked the cage and opened it silently. “Good. You sense it?”

“Yes,” Jona said, her voice distracted. “It’s…frantic. Basic.”

“Focus on it and isolate it with your power,” Patricia continued as the alien stumbled out, looking around frantically as it _knew_ something was happening, but didn’t for sure. “Visualize it however you want, but apply your power to it.”

Patricia nodded in approval as she lifted her left arm, hand extended in the direction of the chryssalid. Good, she was already learning that physical motions were an excellent way to direct concentration. “I think I have it,” Jona said slowly, her form rigid. “I can’t make sense of it.”

“Don’t go too deep yet,” Patricia said. “That’s for later. Give it some commands. _Impress_ your will onto it.”

Jona nodded imperceptibly and a minute or so later, the chryssalid suddenly laid down on the ground and closed it’s eyes. Patricia knelt down and nodded. Yep, it was definitely asleep. Not a difficult command, but it had worked. “It worked.” Jona said, almost sounding surprised as she came out of the psionic trance. “I actually did it.”

“And now you can neutralize a good portion of the alien army,” Patricia congratulated, clapping her on the back. “Mutons, Andromedons and Vitakara aren’t much different. You just need to isolate them and then give your commands. Though I’d suggest something a bit more potent than _sleep_.”

“So...what _could_ I do?” Jona asked, looking down at the chryssalid in wonder.

“The only limit is your imagination,” Patricia said, tapping her own head. “ _Slave_ has a negative connotation for obvious reasons, but that is essentially anything under your control. Do you want to kill it? Incapacitate it? Turn it against its friends? You can do all of that will simple commands. Tell the mind it is burning and it will _create_ the sensation. The mind is powerful, and it can be exploited.”

“Right, I can do that for one though,” Jona nodded. “But how were you able to do the same to a thousand at once?”

“Practice,” Patricia chuckled. “Practice and experience. One mind may be difficult now, but once you master it, five will seem like no big deal. Before you know it, you’ll be taking over entire armies.”

“It also doesn’t have to be used offensively,” Fatima added with a smile. “I personally have found it better to help my fellow soldiers. Patricia knows what I am talking about.”

“That’s a little more difficult,” Patricia warned lightly. “But she’s right. You can affect allies in much the same way, only emphasizing their strengths instead of exploiting weaknesses. It’s like a mind-merge of sorts, sort of like how Aegis affects people, except intentional instead of a side effect. It’s more instinctual to me, but I don’t see why you couldn’t learn it as well.”

“I could show you,” Fatima offered. “I’ve gotten rather good at it myself. Although I had a lot of practice.”

“Sure,” Jona agreed, walking off with her. “I might as well find out what I’m best at.”

Patricia took the opportunity to take a break and sipped from her water bottle, watching the other psions hone their abilities. “We’re making good progress, I think,” the Commander said, walking up and taking a seat next to her. “You’ve done good work here. All of these people seem like good fits.”

“You can thank Haley for the choices,” Patricia downplayed. “She’s the one who put this roster together.”

“Sure, but you’ve put this entire training regimen together as well,” the Commander said, emanating approval. “Aegis believes that we can eventually get a Human to rival the power of an Ethereal, and I believe we’ll get there.”

“Well, we beat the Ravaged One,” Patricia said as she watched Karen throw a massive crate a Matthew who also caught it telekinetically. “I’d say we’re already there.”

“Although it did take every psion we had, and we still almost lost,” the Commander added ruefully. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll hit that before anyone else.”

“I think so as well,” she agreed, looking towards where Aegis was instructing Allison and Said. “And I’m going to do everything to make that a reality.”

***

_The Praesidium, XCOM Intelligence Control_

“I’m sending agents with Vahlen’s cordyceps plant to Indonesia and the Philippines,” Zhang informed the Commander, highlighting the area on the holomap. “The resistance groups should be able to distribute them quickly.”

“Excellent,” the Commander nodded. “Thanks to Aegis, I think we have a target to look for: The Gateways. I would expect them to be built in Australia, if not elsewhere.”

“Agreed,” Zhang nodded. “I’m going to send that to my contacts. I’ll have my agents locate and sabotage them as quickly as we can. Although we might need dedicated strike teams to carry out missions like this, especially if they are deep within alien territory.”

“A better idea is to phase out agents there with genetically modified ones,” the Commander suggested. “Some already are, I know, but one genetically modified agents might actually be enough to run single-man ops against entire alien strongholds.”

“Something to test,” Zhang nodded. “There are plenty of weaker alien strongholds in Australia to attempt that theory. But I tend to agree. It might be advisable to share some of these modifications with ADVENT.”

The Commander wasn’t entirely sure about that, largely because he didn’t entirely like the idea of ADVENT creating borderline-invincible soldiers that far outnumbered their own. With that being said, ADVENT wasn’t exactly a concern yet, and there were admittedly contingencies he could fall back on. The aliens were the priority and he had to trust that ADVENT would hold up in the meantime. “The Biomuscular Regeneration and Disease Prevention modifications would be appropriate, I think.”

Zhang gave a rare small smile. “I may not be psionic, Commander, but I know your hesitation. While ADVENT could benefit from our advances, I see no reason to let them be released without contingencies of our own. I trust Vahlen is smart enough to insert a fatal flaw into whatever we send, yes? Something that is otherwise impossible to exploit without previous knowledge.”

The Commander smiled. “I certainly believe she is, good thinking.”

“We’d have to keep Kim in the loop,” Zhang added, shutting off the holomap. “His partner, Tygan, might notice something is off and he needs to know about it to redirect him away. I also suspect Saudia would not be pleased if she learned of this. But it’s better than her getting it in her head that she’s invincible.”

“Which is why we have people like Kim keeping an eye on her,” the Commander said. “He’ll inform us if Saudia is developing anything major.”

“I am impressed with her restraint,” Zhang commented. “As was Kim. He expected her to be more interested in turning the MELD nanites into a weapon. Too dangerous, she said.”

“I tend to agree,” the Commander nodded. “But the idea is not without merit. But I intend to utilize that idea as a… _sterilization_ weapon. On Earth it’s too risky, but the aliens have more than one.”

“The Muton homeworld,” Zhang suggested. “If Aegis has described it correctly, it is the heart of their military production. The loss of that would be catastrophic. Or Helion-7 for that matter.”

“Exactly,” the Commander nodded, a grim smile on his face. “Aegis is warning against escalation on Collective controlled territory, and he is right. But when the time is right, we have the numbers of the Gateways and only need to send one or two doomsday bombs through them and watch the fallout.”

“Of course, that would probably send out calls for an all-out assault on Earth.” Zhang pointed out.

“Yes,” the Commander nodded. “Which is why I don’t intend for development on that to fully start until we can fight on somewhat even footing with them. On _their_ turf, not just on Earth.”

“Unless of course we need to enact the Apollo Contingency,” Zhang noted, scratching his chin. “But I don’t think the situation is dire enough yet.”

“Or the Artemis Contingency,” the Commander added. “But for that we need some kind of sample from the Ethereals. I somehow doubt that will be easy to acquire.”

“No,” Zhang agreed, looking at him. “What are you going to do if Aegis refuses to undergo the Manchurian Program?”

The Commander pursed his lips. “That is a good question. I’m not sure if I can do anything, not yet at least. Worst-case scenario, perhaps all of our psions could sedate him, but I feel that would only be a temporary solution. And should that fail, we are essentially screwed.”

“I was afraid of that,” Zhang sighed. “We need to discuss where we should be focusing most of our efforts after Vahlen completes the Manchurian Project. Improving our forces is all well and good, but both of us know that won’t win the war. The Ethereals are the only ones that matter and they cannot be replaced like their regular soldiers. Vahlen needs to begin researching anti-psionic technology to counter them. There is little use for an invincible soldier if they can be turned on us because an Ethereal mind-controls them.”

That was definitely going to be a major undertaking later in the war and Zhang was certainly correct there. “The Ethereals themselves seem to be holding back for now,” the Commander said. “We needed to focus on weathering their army. But once they realize they’ll need more…then yes, we’ll need ways to counter them beyond our own.”

“Beyond that, it’s also only a matter of time before ADVENT tries to make their own psions,” Zhang added. “When they figure out the crude methods involved, it won’t take long for them to refine it.”

“Hence why I added that to the Directive,” the Commander nodded. “By law they have to turn psions over to us as only we can help them adjust to their new abilities.”

Zhang snorted. “Do you really think they’re going to comply?”

The Commander smirked. “Actually, I do. If for no other reason than Saudia is in charge and she doesn’t want to risk me removing her. Aside from that, it’s not like you can hide a psion. We’ve got enough of our own to be able to tell if a Human is one or not. Once that gets out, ADVENT would suffer a serious loss of face, and also per the Directive, the penalty for unauthorized psionic experimentation is rather high.”

Zhang _hmmed_ at that. “And with Stein in charge of the Peacekeepers, she would ensure they would be punished. Saudia may have done a little _too_ well in choosing her. I suppose then that the risk is mitigated. Although later there may be questions raised about why ADVENT must turn them over to us.”

“We’ll deal with that when it arises,” the Commander said. “In the meantime…well, we keep preparing. I’m surprised there hasn’t been a retaliation yet.”

“The delay concerns me,” Zhang admitted, rubbing his forehead. “It means they’re likely preparing for a deadly strike. One we won’t be able to stop.”

“Stopping isn’t our goal for retaliation,” the Commander reminded him. “But to mitigate the threat. Because this time, I think that will be all we can do.”

***

_The Praesidium, Practice Range_

Sierra found herself liking the alloy cannon more and more the longer she used it. There was something very satisfying about completely shredding a dummy into pieces from metal shards. Considering her recent improvements, it might not be amiss to add it to her arsenal. After all, it wasn’t as though she only had to carry a rifle and pistol.

She had been rather skeptical of the initial message the Commander had put out regarding the genetic modifications…but after seeing that they were in fact legitimate, she felt it would be highly questionable at best not to take advantage. She had to admit that the idea of apparent invulnerability was tempting, and there were enough people she could personally observe and talk to that made it a pretty easy choice.

And the results were…well, exactly what was advertised. Granted, she hadn’t actually been shot at yet, but she _felt_ physically harder. Her skin had a much tauter feeling, almost metallic, which made some sense. One of the apparent side-effects of the Iron Skin modification were these slightly translucent hexagons that ran over every part of her skin. It made her look a bit strange, especially when the light hit her at the right angle and gave the illusion of a body-length tattoo of small hexagons.

Apparently there was a scientific explanation for it, likely something to do with how that was how the skin was reinforced to stop actual projectiles. She’d done some…experimentation with the modification and it was a little disconcerting to realize how protected she actually was.

“I’m curious,” a voice said, coming up beside her. “How does it feel?”

She turned to see one of the oldest soldiers she’d seen here. It was because of that she remembered his name: Oliver. She was sort of surprised XCOM had recruited someone as old as him, since his white hair and beard kinda gave away the fact that he wasn’t exactly young. Then again, he probably had a lot of experience fighting.

“How what feels?” Sierra asked. “The modification?”

“Yes,” he nodded, unslinging his rifle from his back. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

She shrugged. “Sure. It’s honestly not _that_ different. I feel stronger; definitely tougher than before.”

“Have you tested it out?” He asked curiously.

“I haven’t gotten shot if that’s what you were wondering,” she admitted with a laugh. “But I’m pretty sure it works. Here, watch this.” She motioned him over to a small table used for weapon cleaning and pulled out one of her knives.

“You don’t have to give a demonstration,” he began uncomfortably, realizing what she was going to do. “Really.”

“Don’t worry,” Sierra assured him, placing her hand on the table. “Trust me, I’m not going to hurt myself. Just showing you how it works.” She took a reverse grip of her knife, raised it and stabbed down on her arm, slightly amused at the sharp intake of breath behind her. But just as she expected, the blade slid off her skin and buried the tip in the table.

“That is…impressive,” Oliver admitted, looking slightly disturbed at her display. “Do you feel it?”

“I can feel something hit me there,” Sierra explained. “But it doesn’t hurt. Now, that might change if I get shot, but I’m actually feeling pretty confident about this. So what about you? Thinking about taking the Commander up on his offer?”

“Not at the moment,” he said, slightly smiling. “But I’m a little too suspicious for my own good, I think. Let’s just say I think there’s a catch to all of this that the Commander isn’t exactly being truthful about.”

The thing was, Sierra had wondered the same thing, but hadn’t been able to figure out what that possibly could be. The scientists had assured her that she wouldn’t be dependent on any drugs and that the modification wouldn’t fade over time. It performed as they said (Seemingly) and had also explained every possible side effect or consequence. Despite not exactly _trusting_ the Commander, she did not expect him to lie to his soldiers, at least with this.

“I haven’t seen or felt anything irregular,” Sierra finally said with a shrug. “Maybe this is the one exception to the rule.”

“Perhaps,” Oliver admitted. “Although I’m also not entirely comfortable with how these genetic enhancements were probably discovered.”

“In a lab,” Sierra guessed. “Maybe they experimented on a Sectoid or two. Why does that matter?”

Oliver sighed. “Do you mind if I’m blunt?”

Sierra smirked and gestured him forward. “I welcome it.”

“You might regret that,” he warned. “But fine. What are the chances that XCOM could suddenly discover this miracle modification that makes soldiers immune to projectiles, and it’s also safe enough that it works 100% of the time when applied to soldiers? Now multiply that times _four_. Which either means they’re extremely lucky or are using human test subjects.”

Sierra frowned, as admittedly that hadn’t crossed her mind. “Does that still make it bad?” She asked. “I’m pretty sure there are laws around that.”

Oliver just looked at her. “Under XCOM? Really? I can respect the Commander, but I absolutely know men like him. If something is illegal that hinders them, they will do everything they can to remedy that. Do you really believe he wouldn’t use humans for testing?”

“Fair point,” Sierra nodded. “That being said, the Commander isn’t…unreasonable. Or a sadist, even if I don’t entirely trust him. He probably used volunteers for testing. I do believe he does care about his soldiers.”

“Maybe,” Oliver didn’t sound convinced. “But the thing is, I don’t know, and as such I’m not sure I want to involve myself in it,” he gave a slight smile. “I’m content just staying a normal human for now.”

“I can respect that,” Sierra nodded, now wondering the answer to the question he raised. “Ideological decisions are pretty rare, nowadays.”

“Eh, maybe I’m just old,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “The world is sadly not a place where ideals win. Not anymore, I think. Or at least not the ones I support.”

“You were in NATO, right?” Sierra asked. “What happened to them?”

“As far as I know, they’re being incorporated into the ADVENT military,” he shrugged. “I’m not that surprised it was dissolved. There isn’t a need for a NATO now that the UN fell and ADVENT is in charge. I do like that Saudia put Chairman Christiaens in charge of the military. At least that is one person I can trust in ADVENT.”

“Oh?” Sierra asked. “You don’t trust them?”

“I trust them to fight the aliens,” Oliver amended. “Not necessarily to have the best interests of the people in mind.”

“I agree with that,” Sierra muttered. “Their military is probably why the Commander is turning a blind eye to them. Then again, I’m pretty sure he could force Saudia to do what he wants. The situation is probably even more complicated than I think.”

“Probably,” Oliver agreed. “I suppose all we can really do are our jobs. Whatever plans the Commander has, I’m pretty sure he won’t be telling us.”

“Unfortunately not,” Sierra agreed, tossing her rifle over her shoulder. “But I would be really curious to know what goes on that controlling head of his.”

***

_The Praesidium, Mission Control_

The Commander would normally be slightly irritated if he was woken out of bed in the middle of the night, especially since it was a night where Vahlen had gotten enough done that they could actually spend a night together, but considering the circumstances, he _wished_ he was woken up for literally no reason.

“Status report!” He ordered Jackson, who was in front of the hologlobe, while analysts and workers rushed around, speaking frantically into headsets. Jackson herself was talking rapidly with someone, but cut them off and snapped into a salute as he approached.

“Hawaii was just hit an hour ago,” she briefly updated. “They were completely cut off and overwhelmed. Networks and feed are dark over there. But we have to assume they’re going to hit the West Coast.”

“Why attack Hawaii?” Was the first thing he wondered aloud. There was no good reason they needed to attack that state unless…

Unless they _wanted_ them to know an attack was coming. And if _that_ was the goal, then they expected to win and more than that, wanted to make a decisive statement in the most powerful nation in the world.

“Unknown,” Jackson admitted. “But they’ve given us a valuable warning. ADVENT is already sending reinforcements to the coastal cities. What are your orders?”

“Assemble several squads of soldiers and I’ll fly with them to the Citadel to coordinate with ADVENT forces,” he ordered. “Prepare our Ravens for launch.”

“Understood,” Jackson nodded. “Good luck, Commander.”

He barely heard her as he left to go prepare. If he was correct about what they could expect, they would need all the luck they could get.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 5: ADVENT Agencies

Subsection 5.1: Overview

 _Purpose_ : ADVENT agencies exist to create, regulate and provide services to the citizens of ADVENT over the entirety of the organization itself. Agencies are instrumental in keeping ADVENT operating in a smooth manner that continually improves the lives of all people within it, and constantly looks to improve whenever the opportunity is presented.

 _Leadership Appointment_ : The leaders of the various agencies are proposed by the Chancellor of ADVENT, with several agencies also requiring the Chief of the Peacekeepers, the Commander of the ADVENT Military, and/or the Director of ADVENT Intelligence to also approve them before presenting the application to the ADVENT Congress of Nations.

Candidates can only be chosen from a pre-approved pool and must register beforehand before being considered for any agency position. Once a candidate is chosen, he or she is interrogated by the Congress of Nations for a time to be determined by them to determine if they are appropriate for the position. They will then vote on approving the candidate and should it pass, the candidate will assume the position.

If the Congress of Nations rejects the candidate, an explanation must be made with proof and evidence explaining the rejection. Said explanation will be given to the Judicial Courts for review, and if it is approved, then the candidate will be rejected from consideration. If the explanation is rejected by the court, then an additional hearing will be held and vote taken. A candidate can only be rejected by the Congress of Nations via refuted explanation up to three times, after that the Chancellor can install them directly in the position. If the Congress of Nations fails to provide an explanation within fourteen days, then the Chancellor can install them directly in the position.

Abuse of this system (such as intentionally and spuriously delaying the appointment of a candidate for partisan reasons) will result in legal action. If there is dissent, it is expected to be brought to the attention of the Chancellor and candidate as soon as possible without any intentional delay. Authors of multiple refuted explanations may find themselves barred from further dissents or removed from office altogether.

 _Agency Leadership Removal_ : Heads of ADVENT agencies may hold the position for a minimum period of ten years, barring events like criminal activity, injury or assassination. Heads of these agencies may not unexpectedly retire without reason or explanation. At the end of their appointment, the Chancellor may approve them for another term, or legally replace them with a different candidate.

A Chancellor cannot replace the head of an agency without an acceptable reason that has been approved by the Judicial Courts. This is in effect regardless of if a new Chancellor is appointed who didn’t make any appointments to these agencies.

_ADVENT Agency List and Brief Overview:_

**ADVENT Department of Energy and Renewable Sources** : Responsible for the research and development for all energy matters related to ADVENT. They are also responsible for regulation and distribution of various resources and technology related to the field.

 **ADVENT Bureau of Education:** Responsible for all facets of the ADVENT education system including structure, wages, and regulation over both State and private sector schools at all levels.

 **ADVENT Research and Development:** Responsible for the concentrated research and development of multiple areas of ADVENT, including civilian and military advances in computing, science, biology and genetic enhancement.

 **ADVENT Engineering and Advanced Technology:** Responsible for the research and creation of advanced technology including artificial intelligence, computing, manufacturing and development. They work in both a civilian and military capacity.

 **ADVENT Internal Affairs and Oversight:** Responsible for ensuring that ADVENT is internally following the regulations set forth, and that all agencies are running as efficiently as possible. Internal disputes and legal issues within ADVENT are handled by this agency.

 **ADVENT Election Oversight:** Responsible for the vetting, approval and integrity of all elections and candidates within ADVENT, and also has final control over regulations regarding specific elections.

 **ADVENT Diplomatic Service:** Responsible for managing diplomatic relationships between foreign nations and alien governments.

 **ADVENT Public Relations and Media Integrity:** Responsible for distributing accurate and direct information from the State and disseminating appropriate knowledge in a practical and efficient way. Also ensures that independent media is conforming to standards and not deliberately misleading the public.

 **ADVENT Agriculture and Food Oversight:** Responsible for the regulation and inspection of all food distributors and farms throughout ADVENT, as well as responsible for researching, proposing and improving various agricultural or distribution equipment or technology to increase efficiency.

 **ADVENT Department of Infrastructure:** Responsible for the upkeep, creation and removal of all infrastructure within ADVENT, and is responsible for building regulation and maintenance of essential systems.

 **ADVENT Adoption and Child Services:** Responsible for managing adoptions within and outside of ADVENT and completing them in a timely, safe, and confidential manner. They are also responsible for dealing with instances of child abuse, trafficking and inspection. They are also responsible for ensuring that children are appropriately registered and vaccinated and possess authority to inform the Peacekeepers if parents do not comply.

 **ADVENT Drug and Substance Research:** Responsible for the exclusive research of medical and recreational drugs, including those that are illegal. This agency has the authority to approve a drug for recreational or medical use, and also the authority to recall or make various substances illegal provided proof can be show to the Judicial courts justifying decisions in both cases.

 **ADVENT Department of Health and Medical Services** : Responsible for the creation, regulation and enforcement of all ADVENT medical standards and serves to also inspect and oversee them as well. They are also responsible for all patient and medical professional data.

 **ADVENT Department of Commerce and Economy:** Responsible for the regulation and oversight of the economy, as well as having authority over foreign and domestic trade, currencies and economical positions.


	10. March of the Battlemaster

 

_The Cultro, En route to San Francisco_

The Overseer-class craft sped silently across the skies, no indication within the craft itself that it was flying at all. The Sectoids may have been an inferior, vindictive and selfish species, but their intelligence could occasionally produce excellence. But everything in the craft itself was superficial to him; displays, seats and weapon stands. They had mistakenly believed that _comfort_ was something he placed value on.

Fools. But he had no reason to dwell on it further. The city was approaching and the humans would no doubt be preparing for an army.

They would not expect only one, but a Battlemaster was far more dangerous than any army, as the humans would soon learn. Today was the day where XCOM would learn the price of defying the Imperator, and Aegis would realize the mistake he had made. He bore no ill will towards Aegis because unlike some Ethereals, he stood by his beliefs, although such a drastic step was strange, even for him.

 It ultimately mattered little. Not even Aegis could resist him, and it had been a reason why he had made sure to learn all he could from Aegis, because he suspected the day would come when he could no longer rely on his friend.

The holographic humanoid figure suddenly materialized before him, a golden feminine projection who blinked and fizzed as if mere static. The figure had supposedly been based on a Vitakarian female, but it now reminded the Battlemaster more of Human females. The figure was faceless, obscured by a black mist with shining eyes.

He had programmed her for a military personality, so she appeared standing before him in an even stance, hands clasped behind her back. “Battlemaster,” she began, the synthesized voice transmitting directly into his communications implant. “We are approaching the Human city known as San Francisco. J’Loran, Disciple-7 and Lura’irinena’borelia are awaiting your command.”

“Connect me to them,” the Battlemaster commanded, rising and towering over the small projection.

“Connecting,” she said, then her form multiplied and morphed until he was standing before near-perfect, golden recreations of his subordinates, complete with the static fuzz. The CODEX system truly was one of the greatest unexpected creations of the Collective. He would not have imagined Cogitian’s archive system could have such widespread and practical usage.

“Begin your assault,” the Battlemaster commanded. “J’Loran, press your advantage. Bombard the city and draw Patricia to you. They will not be able to resist taking revenge on your species.”

 _“I am expecting her,”_ J’Loran boomed. _“If the city is evacuated, we will raze it to the ground.”_

“Capture any civilians you can,” the Battlemaster ordered. “Remember: Do _not_ kill them unless they are actively assisting ADVENT or otherwise fighting Collective forces.”

 _“Acknowledged,”_ J’Loran stated. _“Beginning the assault now.”_

The Battlemaster turned to the Borelian as J’Loran severed the connection. “Irinena, begin your own attack. Hold back initially until you see what they have.”

 _“It will be done, Battlemaster,”_ Irinena growled, baring her incisors before she placed the black helmet over her head. _“May you find victory on the battlefield.”_

As she blinked out of existence, he turned to the Sargon dutifully awaiting his orders. “Disciple-7, begin your own assault. Be prepared to counter the psions.”

 _“I understand, Battlemaster,”_ the Sargon stated, in guttural tones of his species. _“I have analyzed the entirety of the city and estimate between thirty to fifty thousand ADVENT soldiers for defense and have adjusted my forces to account for this fact and the possibility of XCOM being introduced as a variable. Further variables within XCOM have also been taken into consideration.”_

The Battlemaster nodded approvingly. He was continually disappointed when the Collective simply used the Sargons on pointless administrative duties and training. Disciple-7 had proven to be as competent as any subordinate, and possessed a near-perfect memory thanks to Ethereal genetic modification.

A shame it was often wasted on trivial tasks that could simply be run by a CODEX system.

“Good,” the Battlemaster said with an approving nod. “When you evacuate the civilians, destroy the city and hold your position. We cannot expect universal victory and will not push forward beyond our limits.”

 _“I obey, Battlemaster,”_ Disciple-7 confirmed, bowing his head. _“Glory to the Ethereal Collective.”_

The figure blinked out of existence and the CODEX appeared once more. “Battlemaster, the city approaches. We are close to the drop position.”

“Noted,” he said, and reached back with his upper right hand to grasp the greatsword strapped to his back. The weight felt familiar and comforting as he held it firmly at his side, letting the point rest on the cold alloy of the spacecraft. The scarred blade that had put millions to death would soon be submerged in blood once more, and he looked forward to testing his strength once more against an alien army.

This time, he hoped they would actually present a challenge.

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

It was almost nostalgic, being back here in the now-ADVENT controlled Citadel. They had turned it into a _very_ fortified base that was stocked with what he could only assume were specially trained soldiers. This was apparently where the Lancer base of operations was, which made him wonder if ADVENT was planning on deploying Lancers to defend the West Coast.

The Commander wore his silver armor, helmet tucked under his arm and weapons attached to his back. He doubted that he would personally be participating in any fighting that took place, but it never hurt to be prepared and if nothing else, it gave a morale boost to the personnel here. Soldiers, Officers and supporting staff all gave quick salutes to him as he walked past, relief clear on their faces and reflected in their emotions.

The doors slid open with a familiar hiss and he stepped through to the open area of Mission Control. It remained largely the same, but it seemed that the once-massive hologlobe was being used as more of a geoscape map, with the blue hologram displaying the majority of the west coast, and, it appeared, positioning of both ADVENT and Collective forces.

People in the room made way before him and he quickly approached the small group that was appraising the situation, and the woman who bore the red and white stripes of command straightened up as he approached, and turned to face him. “Commander,” Laura Christiaens greeted, not smiling but giving him a firm nod of acknowledgement. “It’s good that you’re here.”

“What’s the situation?” He asked, looking down at the geoscape portraying the massive battlefield. “I have three squads with MEC accompaniments ready to assist where needed.”

“Good,” Laura said, also returning her attention to the geoscape. “There have not been any hits I would consider major, but the first alien ships made landfall approximately twelve minutes ago here, here and _here_.” She pointed at southern California, Oregon and Washington. “All dead ahead of the major cities.”

The Commander appraised the map. “Seattle, Portland and LA. I don’t suppose this was unexpected?”

“It wasn’t,” Laura agreed, a grim ghost of a smile on her aged face. “We knew that the aliens would probably strike the major cities. Strangely enough, San Francisco appears to be clear, but that is likely to change.”

“What about the cities themselves?” The Commander asked. “Have they been evacuated?”

“Impossible to fully evacuate them,” Laura admitted, frustration clear in her tone. “I attempted to get permission to do that a week ago and was advised not to until there was a credible threat. It’s only been started in earnest two days ago, when I got permission from the Chancellor herself. At best the cities are half-evacuated, and I am assuming those that are outside are lost.”

“Unfortunate,” the Commander muttered. “But little we can do. Where are your forces stationed?”

“I knew they would be coming here eventually, and I made sure ADVENT is prepared,” Laura began, zooming the geoscape to focus on Portland. “Each city contains a Battalion of ADVENT soldiers who have been strategically positioned through the area. Portland itself has several choke points we can use. You see the river running through it?”

“Yes,” the Commander nodded.

“We pin the aliens there to start,” she explained. “Explosives have been rigged on the bridges in case they become overwhelmed. I’ve also stationed soldiers up the entire river beyond the Vancouver area, with more behind them to prevent us being surrounded. I imagine that will make it slightly difficult for the aliens, assuming they are fielding their heavier units.”

“They might be,” the Commander warned. “Cyberdisks and Floaters don’t need bridges to cross. However, the entire army is unlikely to be composed of them alone.”

“And indications are that the army heading that way is largely composed of Vitakara,” Laura pointed out.

“Which kinds?” The Commander asked.

“Not enough intel,” she shook her head. “But we can safely assume Borelians and Vitakarians.”

“What about Seattle?” The Commander asked.

“Supremely to our advantage,” Laura confirmed. “The city is on the coast of a lake, which means it is possible that we can repeat our defense that we used in Japan. Unfortunately, all indications are that the aliens learned from their mistake. We just got word that Olympia just went dark, which means they’re coming up the long way. I’ve just sent soldiers to reinforce Tacoma and Kent.”

The Commander could see what she meant. Olympia was southwest of the city itself, and if it followed the road up to Lakewood and then straight up, they could directly attack the city. But the good news was that it was very direct, and they would not be able to do anything but commit to it entirely. “Still easily defendable,” the Commander noted. “But they might attack from the North as well.”

“They are,” Laura confirmed. “But in a much smaller force. They are clearly bringing the main bulk of their army up from the south. What I’m concerned about is the composition. It appears to be mostly Andromedons and Mutons.”

Considering that the Andromedons were the reason the Collective had any ground in Japan whatsoever, that was concerning and raised several questions. “Seems odd to attack Seattle with such a large force,” he said slowly. “I would have guessed a larger or better defended city.”

“As did I,” Laura muttered, pressing her lips together in a thin like. “Which is why I think it is the most vulnerable. I didn’t anticipate an Andromedon-majority force.”

The Commander smiled. “That’s why we’re here. I’ll send my best team and psion to reinforce. The city will be defended.”

“I appreciate that,” Laura said, moving the geoscape towards the south. “California is where our strongest defenses are. San Francisco has an entrenched army large enough to withstand an Andromedon attack, and the aliens will likely have no choice but to either repeat what they did in Japan, or go out of their way to establish an isolated beachhead. The coast is highly useful here.”

“Perhaps that’s why they are leaving it alone,” the Commander mused, scratching his chin as he looked at the blue map. “However…”

“However, that will only work in the short term,” Laura finished, pointing at the state. “If we control San Francisco, we can effectively counter and outflank every alien force that moves further in. Ignoring it is a _bad_ strategy.”

It was, and the Commander was getting a growing suspicion as to why the city was supposedly being left along. The Battlemaster wouldn’t make such an exploitable error, which meant there had to be some plan for the city…and unfortunately, he had a decent guess as to what that was. “What of LA?” He asked, wanting to know about that before voicing his concern.

“Almost the same deal,” Laura said. “But the aliens do have an opening here, which they are taking. Oxnard has been taken, and they are fighting into the city that way. More difficult for us, but they are almost all Mutons, which can be handled easily enough, especially since we have the advantage.”

“It might be a distraction,” the Commander wondered aloud, trying to puzzle out why an all-Muton force would be sent. “Perhaps a feint? They know Mutons don’t work well against us.”

“The attack seems straightforward,” Laura nodded. _“Too_ straightforward. I’m missing something, but there have been no other attacks near the city. Just from the direction of Oxnard.”

“They might be holding some forces back to get you to weaken other positions,” the Commander suggested. “Maybe don’t take soldiers from the perimeter, but perhaps the inner city. They can’t land a force there without you noticing, but they _can_ attempt to surround the city itself before you realize it.”

“Good point,” she nodded. “I’ll see-“

“We’ve got an alien craft heading towards San Francisco!” An analyst called out.

“Only a matter of time,” Laura grunted, moving over to the city. “How many?”

There was a pause; surprise clear in the analyst’s voice. “Just one.”

“One?” Laura narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is it a scout then?”

“No,” the Commander said slowly, a cold feeling building inside him. “San Francisco wasn’t forgotten by the aliens. It’s being targeted by the Battlemaster himself. And he is about to attack.”

“No one can take an entire city by themselves,” Laura said, looking at him in clear disbelief. “Not even an Ethereal. I doubt your telepath could do it either. And _especially_ not the most protected city on the West Coast.”

“You need to prepare your forces to retreat if needed,” the Commander warned, making her face turn to stone. “I hope you are right, but these Ethereals are not like us, and I somehow don’t think that the Battlemaster is ignorant of the fact that it is supposedly impenetrable.”

“Ethereals are aliens, not gods,” Laura said coolly, turning away from him. “You proved that when you killed the one that attacked you. And you did it with under one hundred men. This Battlemaster faces a battalion of fifty thousand soldiers of ADVENT. No one can survive that alone, not even an Ethereal.”

“Maybe not,” the Commander muttered as he prepared to give his orders to the squads. “But I can guarantee that he is sure going to try.”

***

_San Francisco, United States of America_

_“Dropping_.”

The hatch underneath him opened up and the Battlemaster began falling towards the sandy beach below. The air whistled in his ears as he sped towards the ground, angling himself like an arrow, cape flapping in the wind. The army before him became more visible as he approached terminal velocity.

Lines of soldiers in black armor, red Officers dotted throughout and snipers, gunners and explosives experts all poised in preparation for an invading force. Unfortunate that they were insufficiently armed to deal with him. The greatsword in his hand was made out of metal that cut through the alloy harvested on Helion-3, and the armor these Humans wore was a diluted variant of that.

He was getting close to the ground…

 _Now_.

He thrust his lower hands down to telekinetically stabilize himself, flipping right side up and landed in the shallow water with a moderate splash. Straightening up, he appraised the army before him, hidden behind barricades of black metal, with the city itself behind them. It truthfully did not matter where he was, all that did was the removal of ADVENT from this city.

The battlefield was dead silent as surprise emanated in waves from the Humans before him. The Battlemaster was not surprised as he placed one armored boot forward, the water lapping around his ankles. A telepath he was not, but he could easily imagine the thoughts running through their heads.

_Is this it?_

_Only one?_

He allowed himself a smile as he brandished his sword in the air; a formal salute of respect before the engagement of an enemy. The early sunlight turned the blade into a gleaming beacon of light, one that would soon be awash in crimson.

Then the order finally came: “Open fire!”

The beach was lit up with the sound of hundreds of gauss rifles all firing at once. Gouts of sand and water shot up before and around him as they indiscriminately fired in his direction.

Time to begin.

With slow, ponderous steps he marched toward the closest line of soldiers. Projectiles bounced off his armor like water, nowhere near powerful enough to even scratch the forged metal of the Battlemaster. His greatsword was held idly in his lower right hand as he walked forward, impervious to the weapons before him.

A rocket suddenly sped towards him and he casually held up a free hand to catch it telekinetically, then sent it back towards a line of soldiers without breaking stride. He barely heard the screams of pain as he fell upon the first group of victims.

“Fire!” One screamed frantically as all of them backed up. “Kill it now!”

Too late.

With speed that would be perceived as inhuman, the Battlemaster suddenly lashed out with his greatsword, decapitating the first solder, and transitioning into cut that sheared the arm of the woman next to him in two, then grabbed a third soldier telekinetically and pulled him forward to meet the point of the sword in his throat.

Without stopping, the Battlemaster threw the man back and dashed forward, impaling another soldier in the chest before grabbing another one by the head with a free hand and slamming it down into the corner of a crate, killing him instantly. One group down, time to pick up the pace.

A hail of projectiles slammed into his chest, temporarily giving him pause before he located the sources. Four gunners were concentrating their fire, under the direction of several Officers who were directing more regular soldiers to keep firing at him. More were running up, hoping to kill him by numbers alone.

The Battlemaster transitioned his hold on the greatsword to a reverse grip and threw it with psionically-charged speed to impale one gunner in the chest, while with another hand he extended his telekinetic reach and _pulled_ , then leapt towards the group of thirty soldiers as their weapons were ripped out of their hands.

He slammed into one soldier, then crushed one helmet under his boot before grabbing the two closest ones standing beside him and tossing them towards the others while tossing the grenades on their belts. Obliterated by their own weapons, he turned and telekinetically grasped another four soldiers and crushed their throats before they could even so much as gasp.

The greatsword returned to his hand with a telekinetic call and he continued butchering the soldiers who were still unsteady from his pull. He sliced the throat of a woman who’d tripped over another corpse; another fleeing soldier was lifted into the air and pulled backwards to be impaled on his blade; two more soldiers were decapitated with a single swing shortly after realizing there was no escape.

Blood and gore staining his once-sterling armor, he continued marching to the next enclave of humans, who were now trying a different tactic. They’d now organized into large teams of fifteen to twenty soldiers, and seemed to be splitting up to try and outflank him. He chuckled, even as projectiles flew all around him.

He clenched a fist and drew upon the psionic well inside him, engulfing his body in purple flame. The shouts of surprise and terror gave him direction as he picked the first group armed against him and _charged_. Power coursing through him, he sped toward the group of soldiers in a second, hitting one with enough force to break every bone in his body and send him flying back, while every soldier before him on the right fell to the ground, heads rolling away.

The Battlemaster completed the slash, decapitating the soldiers in a clean ring around him, before charging with the same force towards a nearby soldier, grabbing him by the helmet, and slamming it down on a nearby spike. He spun towards the three soldiers from the group that were still alive and dashed towards them with a bloody flourish that rent their bodies in pieces and sent the parts flying back.

The next group was trying to fall back, but there was no escape from him. He threw the greatsword towards one of them who gasped as the blade buried itself in her chest, then screamed as he seemingly materialized in front of her from a charge. He kicked her off his blade into two more soldiers and easily transitioned into a series of quick chops that decapitated, dismembered and otherwise maimed what remained of the entire group.

Remembering the third group, he spun on his heel to see them frantically retreating. He dug a foot into the sand and charged, turning his vision of the world around him into a blur, only focused on his targets. He hit the leader of the retreat with the force of a high-speed crashing Sectoid craft, pulverizing the poor woman and sending her flying in multiple directions, already dead from the fist-sized hole in her chest.

He switched hands, took a reverse grip and sliced backward, executing the immediate line behind him and impaling another soldier which he promptly stabbed into the ground before telekinetically lifting the remaining soldiers and letting them hang as he systematically dismembered them before letting their corpses fall to the ground in piles.

An explosion rocked the beach, then two more hit close beside him, and as he looked to the source, one hit him directly in the chest, the impact forcing him to take a step back. He looked at the line of soldiers armed with grenades and rocket launchers, all grouped up and hoping that sheer amount of explosives would be enough to kill him.

The surface of his armor was now a mixture of soot, gore and blood, with a good few scratches to add to the already present collection. Sand sprayed all over him as explosions rocked the ground near him, but he resumed his steady march through the minefield, sheathed in a purple aura that only burned brighter the longer he fought.

They were already beginning to back up, and now was the time to strike. He balled one hand into a fist and charged once more towards the line of soldiers, feeling the armor give way to flesh that split open, shattered bone, then emerged out the back. The scream of utter torment reached his ears and the Battlemaster pulled his fist out of the soldier’s chest and instantly decapitated the two shaken soldiers beside him, before grabbing another nearby one and charging towards a wall where he smashed her head on it with a sharp crack and a fairly large splatter.

The remaining fifty or so soldiers seemed to realize that running was pointless, and so instead stood their ground. Falling to their knees to line up shots, barking final commands and the persistent sound of gauss fire never let up once as they hoped and prayed for something, _anything_ , to hit. They knew their lives were forfeit, and perhaps want to make a final sacrifice.

Their reasons mattered not, but he would oblige their wishes.

Sword strokes cut soldiers apart in seconds; a telekinetic grab crushed throats and skulls; men and women were decapitated and dismembered in surgical fashion as he wielded the greatsword as tall as some of them like it was made of air. More soldiers kept arriving from the flanks, all standing in the open, realizing cover was useless.

All of them fired gauss rounds, rockets, grenades; whatever they had on hand.

Nothing could touch him, and he continued his slaughter. First it was dozens who fell to his blade, psionics or hands, then the number or corpses around him grew as he sped from group to group, executing them in seconds before repeating the procedure with the inevitable reinforcements.

He lifted another soldier up with a hand and quickly stabbed him through the armpit before tossing his body towards another female soldier. A quick slash behind him bisected the soldier attempting a close flank with a splatter of blood. A quick application of telekinetic pressure crushed the woman’s skull into paste.

Projectiles ricocheted off his armor as he turned to see more soldiers approaching, but this time they had what was referred to as a _tank_. It rolled up, aimed its massive barrel at him and fired. He took the impact square in the chest and he was actually blown almost ten feet back, rolling onto the ground and reassuming his position.

He grinned, baring his teeth under the helmet. Already he could feel his body healing for the bruise that weapon had caused. A respectable try, but another futile effort. The tank was slow, and he was not. He charged, the world turning into a blur around him and transitioned into a spin that instantly executed the row of soldiers to the right of the tank.

He picked up the lone survivor, sped away, quickly line up his target and charged towards the massive barrel of the tank, the soldier still in hand. With a sickening splintering of metal and crunch of bone the soldier was bluntly impaled on the tank barrel, blood spurting from his wounds as he hung limply on the metal pole. A single swipe up cut through the barrel and it fell to the ground.

Several more chops and slices later, the remaining ADVENT forces on the opposite side of the tank were in pieces. The Battlemaster jumped onto the top of the tank and telekinetically opened the hatch, then pulled the first stunned driver out, snapping his neck and tossing him aside before repeating the process for every one that was left.

The sound of more boots charging his position caught his attention and he turned to see what was at least fifty soldiers charging around the corner, weapons at the ready, then skidding to a stop when they saw what was before him. Whatever went through their minds, they still fired on him and he decided to just stand there and let them fire.

Let their terror grow as they realized what stood before him, right before he ended their lives.

For he was a Battlemaster and he was invincible.

***

_Portland, United States of America_

“Sierra, Matthew, and Mark, you will reinforce the ADVENT forces on the I-405 Bridge,” Zara ordered rapidly as the skyranger fell into a steep descent. “Me, Karen and Tamara will reinforce the bridge near their Waterfront Park. Nati, Charlie, you will reinforce the Goliath where it’s dropped. All clear!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted in response.

“Then let’s kill some aliens,” Zara stated, intensity dripping from her voice. Sierra could easily imagine the woman smiling under the helmet. She steadied her gauss rifle in her hands, sincerely hoping that the Iron Skin mod would actually work as advertised. Not that she was going to _try_ and get hit, but the possibility was extremely high.

Splitting up the squad seemed risky, but given how much ground needed to be covered, it seemed like there wasn’t much choice. The good news was that the alien were being forced into choke points on the bridges, so that had halted the assault severely.

The skyranger settled on the ground with a thud, the sounds of gunfire and concussive shots already reaching her ears in the distance. The door hissed open and Zara waved them out. “Go! Go! I’ll be in contact.”

“Copy!” Sierra shouted as she charged down, flanked by Matthew and Mark Castle, their medic for this op. They dashed down the street filled with trash, abandoned cars and scorched buildings. Artillery and tanks were set up on the streets and nearby buildings, firing shells and rockets across the river to the other side, hopefully hitting some alien encampments.

The entire area bordering the river had been haphazardly reinforced and heavily improvised, not with the standard ADVENT barricade, but with a mix of crates, trucks and cars that soldiers utilized as they exchanged potshots with the aliens across the river. In front of the bridge itself was a proper ADVENT barricade several layers deep that just barely encroached on the bridge itself.

There were several Officers directing the ADVENT forces who were doing their best to establish a killzone for the entire bridge, and from the dozens of alien corpses lining the road, they appeared to be doing a good job. “Officer!” She called to one of the red-armored men, who had just directed several ADVENT gunners to relieve two soldiers. “Report!”

He snapped to attention the moment he saw her. “Yes, Operative. We’ve been able to hold this bridge for the past hour, but it’s only a matter of time before they begin advancing.” He motioned to the bridge. “These appear to be mostly Vitakara. Borelians and Vitakarian soldiers. We haven’t seen any others.”

Alright, that was decent. “Are the bridges rigged?”

“Yes, but we’re only to detonate if we lose control of them,” the Officer answered, flinching as several plasma bolts flew dangerously close to his head. “We don’t want to isolate ourselves, and detonating the explosives on the bridges might force them to begin a concentrated shelling of the city, which would be catastrophic due to the-“

“Enough!” Matthew interrupted, raising a hand. “What is your objective?”

“Hold this position for now,” he answered. “As long as we control the bridge, we can kill them pretty easily.”

“If that’s the case, we need to press forward,” Sierra said, looking towards the bridge. “You can’t just stay here.”

“We can’t establish barriers,” the Officer protested as more alien fire slammed into a nearby truck, killing the soldiers behind it in a sudden explosion. “Anyone who goes onto the bridge is _dead_ without protection. This works both ways.”

“Mark, go help them!” Sierra pointed towards the group of wounded and dead ADVENT.

“On it!” He answered and charged to help assist.

“He’s a medic,” Sierra explained briefly. “He’ll help with the wounded. And I get that. Do you have the capability to establish barricades?”

“Yes,” the Officer nodded. “There are several engineering teams. But I can’t send them out just to be killed.”

“Leave that to us!” Sierra promised, motioning Matthew to follow and they dashed to the front barricade directly before the bridge itself.

“You must have a plan,” Matthew said as she raised her rifle and began firing across the bridge while also taking stock of the situation before her.

“Something like one,” Sierra admitted, managing to snipe a Borelian who’d attempted to dash to the side. “What’s the range on your telekinetics?”

“Reasonably? Depends on the size,” he answered, looking down the road. “The bigger it is, the easier I can focus on it.”

“Good,” Sierra nodded. “See the cars the aliens are moving?”

“Of course I do.”

“Can you get rid of them?”

She could imagine the tight grin in his voice. “That I can. Cover me, would you?”

Matthew stood up and purple energy began flaring around him as he raised his right hand towards the alien forces. Sierra took a breath and leapt over the barricade and slid to a stray crate in the street that barely offered any protection as she knelt behind it, laying down a firm line of suppressive fire as plasma sprayed all around her.

One bolt clipped her shoulder, another hit her side, but she didn’t feel anything despite her armor being scorched where it was hit. She managed to hit a Vitakarian soldier, who was dragged away by another alien, possibly for treatment, and the plasma fire suddenly became a lot more concentrated on her. She gritted her teeth as more plasma bolts clipped her and scorched her once-clean forest green armor.

The integrity of the armor was still intact, barely, but if XCOM was right, the plasma shouldn’t be able to pierce her skin without several consecutive direct hits. Still, it was getting way too close for comfort. The cars that the aliens were hiding behind were suddenly lifted into the air, and the aliens seemed stunned, which she took advantage of, killing several Vitakara within a few seconds with a simple sweep of her rifle.

One car was tossed towards the opposite end of the bridge, killing and crushing a couple dozen Vitakara running to reinforce, and the other was tossed off the bridge into the deep blue water with a splash. Sierra stood and began walking forward, aiming at the now-exposed aliens and executing them methodically before they could react.

There was a lull in the return fire. She looked back at the ADVENT line. “Come on!” She yelled, waving her arm forward to get them moving. “They’re going to start again!”

That propelled the ADVENT soldiers to get moving, and she was soon flanked by men and women in black armor, sending a lethal hail of projectiles down the road as the engineers quickly began building a barricade about an eighth of the way into the bridge. Slow and methodical, that would work fine.

Sierra took the opportunity to contact Zara. “Overseer! We are beginning to take the bridge. Army composition is all Vitakarian and we’re in decent position. Copy?”

 _“Acknowledged,”_ came Zara’s cool response. _“We’re doing the same. It does appear to be all Vitakara. Interesting, but we’re pushing them back. The Goliath is also holding well._ ”

“Good,” Sierra nodded. “I’ll update if there are any changes.”

“Reinforcements incoming!” An Officer shouted, and Sierra looked down the road to see a mix of Vitakara soldiers rushing up, with what looked like heavy weapons in their hands.

“Get down!” She yelled, as Matthew raised his hands.

“Stay put!” He shouted. “I’ve got this.”

The aliens fired simultaneously, shooting glowing green grenades and red-streaked projectiles at them, some of which would have certainly hit had the air directly in front and around them not suddenly became distorted, as if looking through water. The first grenade that hit the shimmering field froze in mid-air, and it was immediately clear that the field was acting as a trap for all the rockets and grenades shot their way.

Matthew waved his hand around, and thrust it out, and all of the projectiles were thrown the exact opposite direction. Some slammed into the bridge itself with brief plasma explosions, most hit the road, creating new holes in the asphalt, and some more hit the area around the alien line, killing a dozen instantly and wounding even more.

ADVENT cheered at the destruction of the Vitakara line and continued pressing forward with renewed enthusiasm. Sierra and Matthew still led at the front, killing the stragglers who hadn’t retreated off the bridge and the hail of ADVENT fire preventing any further retaliation.

Halfway across, with the engineers building a new barricade as several dozen soldiers provided covering fire and Matthew removing or killing any new alien offensive, Sierra began to develop a hope that they just might be able to pull this off.

***

_Los Angeles, United States of America_

Compared to some of the soldiers he was sitting beside, Oliver felt uncomfortably _normal_ even if he wasn’t the only unmodified human here. Catherine, Jesenia and Anna were similarly unmodified, but then again, most of them were just as new, or newer, than he was. They also didn’t have one, but _two_ psions that specialized in offensive attacks. What _those_ were was something he could only speculate, but beyond that some of them were modified in ways that quite frankly, made his skin crawl.

He had gotten the impression that Carmelita wasn’t entirely a stable individual, but possessed an unquenched hatred for the aliens and would do whatever it took to give herself an advantage. That apparently involved the installation of a strange tentacle/stinger into her fucking arm.

It apparently provided yet another tactical tool for her, but it was disconcerting to see the pale stinger extend out of her arm through her modified Aegis armor like some kind of worm or parasite. And of course she wasn’t the only one that had _that_ particular improvement. Their other psion, Nataliya, had also elected to undergo the procedure.

Well, if nothing else they would probably decimate any aliens they came across. _“Stand by for deployment, Mariner Team,”_ Lightning Sky informed as the skyranger lights flashed red. _“Coming in for a landing.”_

“Acknowledged,” Carmelita said, standing and the rest of them joined her. “Any notes on army composition?” She asked as she once more checked her alloy cannon.

 _“Appears to be largely Mutons, as suspected,”_ he answered as the Skyranger dipped. _“Looks like they released Berserkers. ADVENT isn’t handling it well.”_

“We’ll deal with them,” Carmelita said coolly, in a way that Oliver imagined she was smiling underneath her scarred helmet.

The skyranger set down, and the ramp extended onto the cracked asphalt. The roars of Mutons howling in pain, triumph and rage were everywhere, as was the constant barrage of ADVENT gauss fire. The buildings in the area had taken massive damage and some were even in danger of collapse. The ADVENT line directly in front of them was broken, with three Berserkers decimating the retreating ADVENT soldiers; wrist blades slick with blood.

“Lesedi, get into position; Nataliya, Chan, help me kill the Berserkers,” Carmelita ordered calmly as she took stock of the situation. “Everyone else reestablish that line now!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted as they charged into the street. They were joined by several more ADVENT squads who were rushing to reinforce this position. The Muton soldiers themselves were well established, and Oliver immediately noticed something off about how they were composed.

All of them were in well-established cover, either abandoned vehicles or buildings, but were already different than the Mutons he expected because all of the soldiers had helmets over their faces. They didn’t seem complex, but they were covered up nonetheless. There were also several different kinds that he could see.

There were the soldiers, but there were also some that were holding heavier weapons such as massive rocket launchers and packs filled with grenades.  Behind the Muton lines were the black-armored Centurions, as XCOM had dubbed them, appearing to coordinate the attacks. That was also when Oliver noticed a distinct _lack_ of Muton corpses on the other side.

Carmelita and the two psions wasted no time getting to work killing the Berserkers. Carmelita leapt towards one of the enraged aliens, blasting it in the chest with her alloy cannon, causing it to stumble back, then followed up by _charging_ at the Berserker, alloy cannon raised and unloaded three successive shots directly into the head of the Berserker, killing it almost instantly.

Nataliya performed almost the exact same maneuver, given she was just as modified as Carmelita, but this time lashed out with her stinger, jabbing what he assumed was the point into the spot on its neck, before holstering her alloy cannon, raising her free hand and as she was suddenly engulfed in purple flame, squeezed and psionic rifts of energy materialized around the Berserker and began tearing it apart.

The alien flailed around, before it collapsed to the ground, dead or dying as Nataliya turned her attention to the established Muton army. Chan was less flashy, but far more direct in his own manifestations of psionic attacks. He drew his hand back, energy gathering in it before thrusting forward, sending a purple lance of energy that split the leg of the Berserker in two.

He repeated the same tactic, firing several more lances of energy, each one taking off an arm, another leg, and finally the head. Oliver slid into the ADVENT barricade which was also taken up by the respective reinforcements and began firing his rifle. If he got close enough, he would use his own alloy cannon, but for now the rifle was best.

Now the Centurions were coming up, grunting and roaring in their language as they pointed at the line of Humans. A purple energy shield covered them, and suddenly Oliver found himself under the barrage of its plasma cannon – and he wasn’t the only one.

“Pinned down!” Jesenia sputtered, plasma fire raining down nearby, rendering using her autolaser lethal.

“Same!” Catherine called, despite trying to contribute more to helping the wounded ADVENT soldiers.

“More Centurions are coming up!” One ADVENT soldier called, and Oliver risked a peek to see that they were right. There was an unprecedented _six_ approaching, and it dawned on him that he realized what they were doing.

“They’re targeting us!” He called to Carmelita. “We need to get rid of them!”

“Stand by!” She snarled from behind him, and soon she leapt over him to the front and landed directly beside a Centurion and fired point blank into its faceplate, piercing the metal and killing the alien while her stinger shot out of her raised wrist and impaled itself in a gap of the armor of a nearby Muton soldier.

Nataliya clenched a raised hand into a fist and another two Mutons were suddenly engulfed in energy storms that threatened to tear them apart. But the break in fire allowed him to rise and begin shooting. Or would have, had the ground suddenly not started shaking from the sound of explosions.

But not _at_ them. “They’re targeting the building!” Catherine called in disbelief as she pointed towards the Mutons armed with rocket launchers and grenades who had fallen back and were purposefully targeting the building right next to them, firing a steady barrage of explosives. Oliver frowned, trying to puzzle what-

“More Berserkers!” Jesenia called as _six_ of the red-armored aliens charged into the fray. Two broke off to charge Carmelita, forcing her to leap back while firing almost non-stop and the other four charged them directly. A lance of psionic energy sliced through the head of one, but the others surprisingly simply ignored him and the ADVENT soldiers and it became clear what their goal was.

“The psions!” He called. “They’re targeting the psions!”

Not simply them either, but Carmelita had been specifically targeted as well. She was jumping all around the battlefield, firing her alloy cannon and using her stinger liberally, but while she could appear to handle one Berserker with ease, two was at least enough to keep her occupied, which Oliver was realizing was the whole point.

Whoever was leading these Mutons knew damn well what they were doing. They had _expected_ a fight with XCOM and had a fucking plan to go along with it. _But a Muton_?

Or more than likely, there was another alien behind this. But a very, very smart one. _“We need to get out of here and regroup!”_ Lesedi hissed into his earpiece, firing her sniper rifle from the roof of a building far behind him. _“We’ve got a lot of trouble approaching.”_

“Like what?” Oliver demanded as he fired a sustained burst at a soldier, and unfortunately only hit the leg, wounding it but not quite being able to kill it before it was dragged away. “I think we’ve got enough trouble.”

 _“There are twelve Muton Elites coming,”_ she hissed. _“And some other Muton. Never seen one like it before. I think it’s in charge.”_

Elites were _not_ something that they could really handle right now. “Overseer! Orders?”

“We hold here,” she snarled, as she executed the final Berserker after her, splattering her armor in golden blood. “They want to fight us? Let them come.”

The two psions had taken care of their own Berserkers, but their delay had allowed more Mutons to take over and reinforce this street-turned-warzone. ADVENT soldiers were falling every few seconds as Muton fire continued unabated, and the number of ADVENT reinforcements was only getting smaller.

“We need help,” Chan declared in his altered voice as he executed another Centurion, psionic energy flowing off his killing arm. “We need reinforcements.”

“Lesedi! Call more in!” Carmelita commanded as she once more took point, executing Mutons and Centurions at close range, even as the aliens in the back turned a hail of plasma fire onto her, forcing her into temporary cover. The smaller woman’s armor was scorched, cracked and had clearly taken a beating, but she seemed no less determined than before.

 _“ADVENT Command, we need more reinforcements on our position,”_ Lesedi called. _“It appears that the commanding force is behind this attack. Current forces are insufficient to hold.”_

A pause as the sounds of battle raged around them. _“Copy,”_ came a male voice. _“Redeploying several units to your position. Recalling the Marauder as well.”_

 _“Acknowledged,”_ Lesedi finished. Oliver remembered that Amahle and her MEC had been deployed to a different part of the city, but he agreed that this was more pressing.

Something in the air caught his eye, but he ignored it, assuming it was an effect of one of the psions. Carmelita shot another Muton in the head while poisoning two more with her stinger which was proving to be a devastating addition to her own lethal arsenal. The roar of more Berserkers sounded in the distance, and he prepared for yet another wave. They only had to hold out a little longer before the reinforcements arrived.

“What the-!” Jesenia yelped as _something_ materialized around her and manifested into a floating mechanical squid-creature. It wrapped it’s tentacles around her and began spewing a black mist into her face. Anna and Nataliya shouted in surprise as the same kind of creatures materialized around them as well.

He spun around, already reaching for his alloy cannon, and raised it just in time as the Seeker appeared behind him. He fired and it blew apart, splattering him in hot alloy and some alien fluid as the remains fell to the ground. Carmelita had simply grabbed the alien machine as it attempted to strangle her and ripped it’s tentacles off before finishing it off with an alloy cannon shot.

He was reminded that her enhancements did give her unnatural strength as a lucky side-effect. But before he could begin to help the other XCOM soldiers, the Muton grenadiers fired yet another barrage and with a sudden loud cracking and bending of steel, he realized what they had been trying to do. Sure enough, he looked up to the building and saw it was quickly going to fall down directly on the ADVENT line.

“ _Fall back!_ ” He screamed as lethal chunks of concrete suddenly began falling around them. He took aim at the Seeker over Anna and fired, blowing it apart and hoisting her back, even as plasma fire flew around him.

The ADVENT soldiers were similarly retreating, and then Oliver realized that Jesenia and Nataliya were still being strangled by the Seekers. “Lesedi! Help them!” He called, trying to pull out his rifle as he realized it might be too late as the building was collapsing around them.

 _“There’s a Seeker up here!”_ She yelled back. _“I’m trying to kill it now!”_

He could spare a look and fired at the Seeker, but it paid him no mind as the gauss rounds missed. The Mutons on the other side were similarly retreating to avoid being crushed under the rubble. Carmelita was closest to the other side and leapt to follow, or at least retreat that way. He wasn’t concerned for her, because Carmelita could easily regroup later.

But despite firing desperately, even as Anna vomited up whatever black fluid the Seeker had forced down her throat, helmet tossed to the side, he watched helplessly as the building collapsed on top of the psion and XCOM soldier, burying them under tons of rubble and smashing the building on the opposite street into a ruined husk.

Down two soldiers already, with Carmelita stuck temporarily on the other side, Oliver was now very concerned that they had walked right into a trap, and worse, it was succeeding.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

Even flying over the battle, at the edge of her consciousness, Patricia was able to easily distinguish the unique alien minds before her. It was getting easier to tell them apart now, and as a result, easier to target. What struck her as interesting was how uniform so many species were in how they worked and thought. For better or worse, most humans were unique and motivated by their own desires and fears. But the _way_ their minds worked and how they rationalized their thoughts could be done in a thousand different ways.

Not so with most species, it turned out, with the exception of the Vitakara and Ethereals themselves, though the latter would stand out anywhere. Muton minds were simple and focused; primitive thoughts like _kill_ , _obey, fire,_ and other repeated words. Multi-tasking was impossible for the soldiers, and thus why they were so persistent; their minds were very often taken up by only one single thought or action given to them by someone else. So they were easy to find in their utter simplicity and straightforwardness.

Andromedons, on the other hand, were almost mechanical in their thought processes. They didn’t feel emotion like humans, or at the very least, not as strongly. Their minds were filled with contingencies, plans and tactics, all being systematically updated throughout the battle. It was structured, organized, and clean, which made the domination of them that much simpler and easier to target.

Patricia closed her eyes, a hand slowly clenching into a fist as she drew upon the power and let her focus spread to the rest of the soldiers in the skyranger. Names, strengths, weaknesses, weapons, locations and plans were all instinctually known by all of them. A bond that was impossible to replicate any other way. A true united unit, no more, no less.

 _“Patricia, we’re coming up on the Federal Way,”_ Big Sky said over the comm. _“Be ready. MEC soldier Cho is being dropped to the north to reinforce the defenses there.”_

“Acknowledged,” Patricia stated, all of them rising as one and taking positions instinctively. Sung Cho was one of the newest MEC soldiers, and was currently commanding a Ballista-class MEC. XCOM couldn’t be everywhere, but a MEC would be a significant contribution to the defense of northern Seattle.

The skyranger turned sharply around while descending and now Patricia could faintly hear the sounds of gunfire, plasma, and explosions, occasionally punctuated with the sound of a Human or Muton scream, and an uncountable number of voices shouting names, commands and battle cries. The skyranger settled on the ground with a shudder and the ramp opened before them.

The instant the ramp hit the pavement they were all charging out, already firing at the aliens that were entrenched in the small city. They were close to a major intersection, and all sides had taken positions behind vehicles, buildings and other improvised barricades. Mutons were taking on the forefront of the alien lines, and Patricia sensed more in the parking lot behind them, interspersed with Andromedons who were no doubt commanding from the back.

Mordecai glanced up at the four-story office building and leapt up onto the roof, putting his own genetic enhancements to use. _“Taking position,”_ he grunted as he immediately began sniping from the top. Two Mutons suddenly found their heads blown into beige and yellow pieces, likely regretting the lack of any helmets.

Not that it would have done much good.

Kim Yi began laying down a barrage of laser fire from his pulse autolaser at an entire section of Mutons who’d taken up cover behind a building corner. Creed and Rosario began firing towards the opposite side, the two infantry picking off Mutons who stupidly exposed themselves and wounding others.

Iaroslav and Liliyane stayed close to her as she strode out, not reaching for her heavy autorifle quite yet, wanting to assess the situation first. A cheer went up from the surviving ADVENT soldiers as they saw XCOM charging into battle. Patricia closed her eyes and quickly felt in the general vicinity of the composition of enemies.

Mostly Mutons, thirty or so just in front of her, only a couple of Andromedons. _Your legs are broken,_ she pressed into the minds of the Mutons. _They are shattered beyond repair._

The command received, she turned her attention to the Andromedons and took over their minds directly. After a quick search of their minds, she sent the command: _Set suit to self-destruct in close proximity to allied units_.

Their organized minds filed the information away and they presumably went away to do just that. Patricia opened her eyes and saw through her HUD that her presence had already manifested results. Mutons were lying on the ground, howling in pain as XCOM and ADVENT charged forward. Mutons were summarily executed and shot through the head, while several booming explosions in the distance indicated that the Andromedons had accomplished their tasks.

Their Medic, Joseph, was quickly tending to the wounded ADVENT soldiers while the rest of them advanced to the alien-controlled parking lot. Patricia already saw more Mutons running in from the connecting streets immediately, before they could get past the intersection, and more Andromedons were coming from the building the parking lot was connected to.

Green plasma fire flew all around them, forcing the advance to a standstill. Mordecai was picking off any Muton foolish enough to poke its head out, but now there were Centurions in the mix. The black-armored Mutons directed the horde of aliens to focus on specific targets. The Andromedons were also issuing orders, and pointing to various soldiers are more Mutons reinforced them.

Patricia noted several Battlefield Engineer Andromedons holding back behind the main alien line. “Firing rocket!” Iaroslav yelled as he aimed at the group of Andromedons taking cover behind a semi-truck, and fired. One suit was blown apart, while the other two were severely crippled and the helmets broken, killing the Andromedons inside.

“Suits coming back,” Liliyane grunted in annoyance as she began firing at the reanimated machine. “Fucking can’t stay dead.”

Patricia raised a hand and once more reached out to the other Muton minds. _Turn on your leaders._ The Command was received instantly and suddenly all the Centurions were being shot in the back, or directly in the chest from Muton soldiers with purple light in their eyes. The fire on the Humans vanished almost instantly as the Andromedons and Centurions dealt with the sudden betrayal.

That was when it suddenly stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, Patricia saw one Andromedon near the back of the building tapping buttons calmly on his wrist, and _this_ Andromedon was different even from the Battlefield Engineers. The suit seemed larger, had more subsystems attached to it like a dedicated chemical dispenser or flamethrower, as well as heavy weapons attached to the shoulder. An odd alien symbol was etched onto the yellow helmet.

This must have been some Andromedon commander, and the moment he stopped tapping, all of the Mutons suddenly started screaming. Harsh, howling wails filled the air as the Mutons stopped firing at the Centurions and Andromedons and returned fire on an unexpecting XCOM and Human force.

“Ah!” Iaroslav shouted as a plasma bolt hit him right in the leg as he had moved to take a forward position, mistakenly believing it was safe. Joseph quickly rushed over to him in the midst of the firefight and pulled him away to fix his leg, while she tried to figure out what was going on. This shouldn’t be possible!

 _Fine_. She hissed in her mind, narrowing her eyes and extending her reach again. _Then burn_. The hottest fire she could imagine, she sent towards the Muton force and expected them to collapse in pain.

But they didn’t. They stood and howled, all the while shooting plasma weapons at them. But now the shots were erratic and she _knew_ she was having an effect on them, but it for some reason wasn’t _working_.

“Patricia?” Creed called as he killed a Muton stumbling forward, suicidally firing as the fire rushed through his mind.

“I know!” She yelled back, deciding to try a different tactic. So, the Andromedons had done something to them. In that case, they could fix the problem. _Kill the Mutons_. She pressed on the closest Andromedon minds, and she felt them give way…all except for one. The commander, it had to be.

It should have been impossible. She _knew_ the command had been impressed onto all of them, but instead…for that one, it was just being…ignored. She frowned and tried looking inside the mind, ignoring the inaccurate plasma around her. All she saw was a jumbled, scrambled mess that didn’t make any sense, even as she pushed deeper. Images, feelings, sounds, sights, she couldn’t grasp _anything_. No wonder it wasn’t taking her commands.

Unless that was the point?

In any case, the _other_ Andromedons had gotten the message, and were turning their suits on the Muton army. One executed three in quick precision; another turned an entire section to acid; one more turned a Muton into an acid-burned husk before executing the two beside it. _Ok_ , Patricia noted with a nod as the battle turned heavily in their favor, all enemy fire effectively stopped due to the Mutons being unable to fire properly, _We’re fine._

And then that damned Andromedon leader in the back pulled up some kind of haptic display on his wrist and a few seconds later, all the other Andromedons froze briefly, and then turned their attention back towards the Humans.

 _Impossible!_ Patricia scowled in disbelief. _That can’t be possible!_

Regardless of what _should_ have been happening, the fact was that the Andromedons were now firing against them. She focused on their minds and repeated the command. That was when she realized that it _had_ worked and _was_ working. But something had taken over the suits themselves and had locked the pilots out.

She couldn’t mind-control a machine, and that damn Andromedon commander had known that.

“We might have a problem,” she growled, reaching for her autorifle. “They’ve taken direct control of the suits. I can’t do anything to stop them.”

“What are our orders?” Creed shouted as he killed a few more Mutons and began focus-firing an Andromedon with Kim.

With her psionics apparently negated, she would have to win this the old-fashioned way. With guns, bullets, and blood. But not entirely, of course, her allies could certainly benefit from her abilities. “Kim, Creed, focus on the frontal Andromedon force,” she began. “Mordecai, target that leader in the back. Liliyane, Rosario, help suppress the left flank of Andromedons!”

“Yes, Overseer,” they shouted as they received ADVENT reinforcements of their own running in behind them. The battle continuing in earnest, they quickly entrenched themselves. But command needed to know what was going on.

“Commander,” she said once she had established a line to him. “We have a problem.”

***

_The Citadel, Mission Control_

The Commander had faced quite a few challenges in his career. Very few people had given him pause and none a reason to legitimately fear them. Even the Ethereals were a force he was confident he would be able to overcome. He didn’t put see purpose in giving problems any more time than they deserved. People who opposed him were simply issues to be resolved later, armies were tools that could be sabotaged and systematically decimated. Weaknesses of opponents could simply be exploited. Every challenge he faced never gave him much pause, because he was confident he could develop a solution to it. The difficulty didn’t matter, only the knowledge of if it was possible.

Until now, it seemed.

He had never fully believed Aegis’ tales of Battlemasters that could take entire worlds single-handedly. Perhaps in specific circumstances, but not regularly. The Mutons had been simple primitives, so perhaps that was a simple explanation. But no, it seemed like Aegis had not exaggerated in the slightest.

Never in his life had he ever seen anything like the Battlemaster systematically slaughtering an army composed of fifty thousand soldiers single-handedly. Nothing could slow him down or kill him. Projectiles might as well not exist; missiles barely slowed him down; tank shots were little more than irritants; armor was little better than paper and tactics were a laughable proposition.

The twelve-foot tall Ethereal was fast enough to execute entire squads in seconds and make a mockery out of any advanced technology. He was a demon of the battlefield, speeding across it with inhuman speed and killing anything that stood in his way.

And he legitimately had no idea how he could stop him.

Airstrikes? Too imprecise for one alien, and would probably do nothing even if they _did_ hit.

Overwhelming numbers? If fifty thousand wasn’t enough, then more than that would just be throwing soldiers away. Granted, he hadn’t killed the _entire_ garrison, but with over a fifth of the soldiers dead with no progress, that didn’t paint a positive picture.

Nuking the city? He wasn’t even sure _that_ would work against the Battlemaster. Or at least, figured the Battlemaster would be smart enough to get out of there quickly.

What else was there? Sending in an XCOM team? Dropping a building on top of him? Very unlikely to do anything either. There was no way he was sending in more soldiers now, _especially_ since the other defenses were… _not going well_. And dropping a building might at best trap him, assuming he was dumb enough to get trapped in a building in the first place, _and_ the airstrikes actually hit.

Laura’s face during the entire conflict had gone from confident, to surprised, to concerned and finally ashen as she’d watched the Battlemaster personally decimate ADVENT’s army. He couldn’t truly blame her; this should have been impossible, but they had to recognize that it was very much reality now. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t tried.

Smaller teams. Blatant numbers. Tanks. Bait. Smaller teams were killed in seconds; larger numbers only added to his kill count; tanks barely slowed him down and he walked into bait because he _knew_ he wasn’t in true danger.

And that wasn’t including how the other defenses had, almost universally, _not_ gone according to plan, especially with this new update from Patricia. “What do you _mean_ ‘It’s not working?’” He demanded as he looked on the holomap where her team was.

 _“I mean I can’t control them!”_ Patricia hissed. _“Whoever is leading this attack knows how to counter telepaths specifically. They did something to the Mutons, and took direct control of the suits. I slowed them down, but we’re barely holding out at best.”_

“Hold your position and update if the situation changes,” the Commander ordered, scowling as he looked to the north. “Laura, reinforce the left flank before Mutons break through.”

“I see it,” she muttered tonelessly. “Ordering the twenty-fifth unit to reinforce.”

As she gave the order, the Commander looked at the other situations. Portland was the only place where he actually saw legitimate progress. The Vitakara-majority army was well-equipped for the standard ADVENT military, but were _not_ prepared for XCOM soldiers of any kind. Sierra and Zara were leading their own charges, weakening the other alien offensives, and the Goliath was stubbornly holding its ground, no matter how much plasma fire was thrown its way.

However, LA was _bad_. He had underestimated the Muton force by a dangerous amount. Whoever was leading it actually knew how to use the Mutons, and now the Commander could see how dangerous they actually could be. He was legitimately considering retreating if the situation didn’t improve. Carmelita was cut off, one of the psions was dead, and every XCOM soldier was marked for death.

He had been played, he saw that now. The Battlemaster, for that was who he assumed was responsible for the offensive, had predicted his likely actions and he had seemingly performed them to the letter. It was very clear how easily he’d taken the bait.

The Battlemaster had known that, after Japan, Andromedons were considered one of the most, if not _the_ most, dangerous enemy, so what was the best counter to them? One of his best XCOM teams, and his most powerful psion, which happened to be Patricia. And of course the force that awaited them was just so happened to be able to negate Patricia’s telepathy, putting them in a much more dangerous situation.

Not _unsalvageable_. Patricia was going to have to be more creative, but he did think the battle could still be won, although not without more casualties and time. It was going to be a grueling finish at best.

The Battlemaster had also known that, thanks to Japan and previous battles, the Mutons were considered the weak link, so naturally, it wouldn’t require an overly dangerous XCOM squad, or at least not a completely veteran one. But now they were in danger of losing LA because he’d relied on his _assumptions_ on what could be expected.

Then there was Portland, and the Battlemaster had expected him to send a middle-tier XCOM squad, which was more or less what he’d done, but perhaps where the Battlemaster had erred was that a middle-tier XCOM squad with no obvious counters easily beat a Vitakara force. Which was maybe the only bright spot here.

Then of course, the Battlemaster had saved the most fortified city for himself, and the Commander could only presume that it was for the sole purpose of sending a message: _You cannot stop me_.

At this moment, he could believe that.

“You need to retreat from San Francisco,” he told Laura firmly. “All you’re going to do is lose more soldiers.”

“Not yet!” She scowled. “Not even he can last forever! He isn’t invincible! _Something_ can kill him!”

“I agree,” the Commander nodded, keeping his voice even. “But do you really want to find out what that is by sending more men to their deaths? What other possible ideas do you have? You _can’t kill him_ with what you have!”

“You want to sacrifice San Francisco because of _one alien_?” She demanded, glaring at him.

“That _one alien_ has killed a fifth of your fifty-thousand garrison!” The Commander shot back, allowing some heat into his voice. “And it will be _five_ fifths if you let your pride dictate your tactics! Retreating is _not a bad decision_.”

“I…” she shuddered. “One more try. If that fails, I’ll order the retreat.”

“Commander! Multiple attacks are being reported in LA!” An analyst called frantically. “Hesperia, Riverside and San Clemente are all falling under Muton attack! They say there are Elites in the mix!”

“Fuck,” Laura snarled under her breath. “They have us surrounded. And we have only a few reinforcements in the inner city. We sent most of them to reinforce the attacking forces. If they break through…”

“They are _going_ to break through,” the Commander stated, seeing the grim reality of the situation. “How did they do that without _any_ of us noticing? Armies of that size should have at least warranted UFO transports unless…”

It dawned on him that that actually wasn’t needed. Gateway transports were slow and vulnerable, Aegis had said, but deployed far enough away from the battle, and while he’d been focused on the frontal attack, they’d landed at specific points and prepared their strike force to attack. No UFO fleet required.

They’d been outplayed by fucking _Mutons_.

“Gateway transports,” he said to Laura. “They can receive an unlimited number of reinforcements unless we destroy the UFOs. Have your pilots survey the area and blow them up. That should distract them and allow us a retreat.”

 _“Retreat?”_ She balked. “First San Francisco and now LA? Do you realize-“

 _“Yes,”_ the Commander snapped. “And I also realize that if we stay, we will be sacrificing our soldiers for _nothing_.” He took a breath. “I have no authority over ADVENT, Commander, but I will withdraw XCOM before I lose too many of my own people. Retreat and I will have them clear a path out, but I won’t leave them to die.”

“Let’s wait before potentially abandoning a crucial city,” Laura suggested, raising a hand. “If we can hold…they might retreat, especially if we kill their Gateway transports. The battle isn’t lost yet.”

“Fine,” he relented, looking down at the holomap. “For now, but if the situation doesn’t improve, I’m not going to have much of a choice.”

***

_Los Angeles, United States of America_

“They’ll be coming this way!” Oliver called, as he led what remained of the XCOM and ADVENT forces down the street. In short, they were in…pretty bad shape, truth be told. Anna was still having trouble breathing, Lesedi had injured her leg and was limping alongside them and Chan was slowly becoming exhausted.

Oliver raised a fist as they came to a stop in front of another intersection. “Carmelita, you still coming?”

 _“Affirmative,”_ came the voice into his helmet. He’d attempted contacting Carmelita immediately after they’d somewhat recovered and thankfully she’d still been alive, albeit now stuck on the other side. She was trying to get an accurate count or something before she came back. _“I’m almost to your position.”_

 _“Oliver, this is the Commander,”_ a new voice interjected. _“You’ve likely got a Muton force coming up behind you and from the leftmost intersection. Position accordingly.”_

Oliver nodded, even though nobody could see it. “What should we expect?”

 _“Intel is not exact,”_ the Commander warned. _“But there are Elites, soldiers, and Centurions. Probably Berserkers as well. Amahle is almost to your position, but we might be pulling you out if the situation worsens.”_

“Copy,” Oliver grunted, casting an apprehensive glance around the area. Hm. More buildings, no established cover…they’d have to make do.

“Did you get that?” He muttered to Catherine, who was checking Anna’s vitals.

She nodded, while frowning at Anna’s throat. “It sounds bad. Pulling out…if _we_ got hit hard…” he could tell she was stressed a lot more now because her French accent was heavily pronounced compared to earlier in the fight.

“I know,” Oliver sighed, motioning the ADVENT Officers over. “But we’re making a stand here, like it or not. I don’t think they can try dropping another building on us without catching our attention.”

He turned immediately to the other Officers. “Fortify your soldiers in the buildings. Intel suggests we’re going to get hit from behind and from the left. You know the drill I presume. Snipers on roofs, gunners up front and rocketeers in the back.” He paused. “And use your soldiers a little better. Have the gunners focus on suppressing the masses and use everyone else to target the specialized units.”

“Yes sir,” one of the Officers said, and all of them immediately ran back to their squads and began issuing orders. “Lesedi,” he continued, turning to the weary sniper. “Get up top again. See if you can get eyes on anything.”

“On it boss,” she nodded, and began climbing up the wall of the four-story building behind them. Right, he recalled, she had the modification that allowed her to climb walls, that was why her gloves were almost transparent. Some kind of gear modification to accommodate that, he supposed. But as long as she got up there, he was fine with it.

Oliver smashed the window to the building and took a position in the corner which would let him shoot from both sides. Catherine, Anna and Chan also took up positions inside the building, just waiting for the aliens to come back. _“Heads up!”_ Carmelita suddenly called over the comms and without warning she jumped into the middle of the street, almost making him fire his gun in surprise.

She looked completely and utterly terrible. Her Aegis armor was scorched, scratched, and falling apart. Her right arm had pretty much no armor left and she was missing her left gauntlet. Most of her shin armor looked on the verge of breaking, and her torso also looked bad, but it appeared to only be superficial damage. The giant gash through her helmet visor was by no means superficial though.

“There’s a _lot_ of them coming,” she warned, pulling off her ruined helmet and shaking her short hair free. Interestingly enough she didn’t look tired in the least. Her golden-rimmed eyes held only fury and hate. Despite looking like she’d just gotten the shit beaten out of her, she only looked pissed off.

“Are you alright?” Catherine asked, rushing to her, med-kit in hand. “You look-“

“Fine.” Carmelita snapped, scowling as she reloaded her alloy cannon again. “Iron Skin. Best thing XCOM ever made. Don’t think these things can really hurt me, but they can sure slow me down. They want to kill all of us. This was a trap. They were _expecting_ XCOM here.”

“No offense, but that gem of wisdom is pretty much common sense,” Anna managed, before breaking into a cough. _“Of course_ they expected us! They’d be idiots not to.”

“Clarification,” Carmelita growled, shooting the woman a scathing look. “Their leader knows how to fight _us_. And I’m pretty sure it’s a Muton leading them. Lesedi, remember that bigger green one? I’m pretty sure it’s a commander of some kind.”

“I didn’t know Mutons were that smart,” Chan commented. “Strong, yes, but not-“

“Yeah, I didn’t either,” Carmelita interrupted. “Ethereals probably did something to it. But I’m not underestimating it again. They’ve got Elites, Berserkers and Centurions coming our way-“

 _“Contact!”_ A voice shouted in the distance, and ADVENT soldiers began firing into the street leading into the intersection.

 _“Mutons coming from the left,”_ Lesedi updated. _“Not taking cover, and no Berserkers yet. Twelve groups of four, one Centurion per group. Targeting now.”_

A gauss sniper shot rang out and Chan turned his attention to down the street, as did Anna, raising her heavy autorifle in the direction of the thunderous boot steps that were reaching his ears. Carmelita leapt to the opposite end of the street and took a position near the corner as the Muton soldiers charged forward, pushing derelict cars as portable cover, Centurions behind them.

Oliver aimed for the wheels of the vehicles and fired, and they popped and deflated within seconds. He turned his rifle to the Muton pushing it and hit it several times, but it still tried, roaring in pain as he kept filling its body with gauss rounds. It finally collapsed, dead, and Carmelita began moving into the fray, a chilling smile on her face.

The Mutons seemed stunned that she was still alive, and more to the point, still killing them. Her stinger snapped out of her wrist like a pale snake, impaling itself in the necks of Muton soldiers while she executed others at close range with her alloy cannon. Plasma hit her arms and torso, but it seemed to do little more than blacken her skin and armor, only eliciting a grimace as she systematically stopped the Muton advance.

On the left side the rest of XCOM was holding back the Muton offensive who were scrambling into cover, even as Lesedi was picking them off or they were being ripped apart by Anna’s weapon or Chan’s psionics. The North Korean was once more sheathed in waves of purple energy, and was _angry_. Oliver could feel it rippling off him in waves as he directed his destructive abilities at the hulking aliens, ripping them apart with deceptive ease.

Catherine was braving the midst of combat, mostly on the ADVENT lines who were rushing to take advantage of Carmelita’s attack. Quite a few were bleeding on the ground, and she was attempting to either drag them somewhere safe, or patch the wounds then and there in the heated battlefield. Oliver now realized he was doing very little back in the building. Carmelita was receiving too much heat now, he needed to do something.

He pulled out his alloy cannon and charged across the street, relying on Lesedi, Anna, and Chan to keep the left flank secure. Carmelita was actually backing up now, apparently seeing the new wave of two dozen soldiers rushing up. She took cover behind the car, and he behind the corner of a building.

The roar of a Berserker came from behind the Muton lines and Carmelita pursed her lips. “Hold this line,” she stated with crystalized ice in her tone. “I’ll handle the Berserker.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised as the red-armored alien charged around the corner, and towards them. Carmelita jumped on the car and thrust her arm forward, the stinger lashing out, presumably stabbing it in the neck before it retracted to her wrist. She followed it up with an alloy cannon blast to the face, shredding the helmet, but not killing it.

“Come and get me!” She roared and leapt backwards, and luckily the enraged alien complied and charged after her. But now Oliver was left with the horde of Mutons who were surging forward. The car positioning actually worked to his advantage as it was easy to kill several Mutons who tried to take cover behind it.

Alloy cannon shards ripped into the armor, downing, if not killing them outright, and the Centurions were noticing him and holding the soldiers back. Now he found himself on the receiving end of the suppressive plasma cannons of two more Centurions. Plasma rained all around him, far too close for comfort.

“I’m pinned down!” He called, reaching for a grenade.

 _“We’ve got Elites coming up the left flank,”_ Lesedi warned. _“Along with more soldiers and Centurions.”_

Fucking wonderful. _“Berserker killed,”_ Carmelita updated, and he saw her charging back into the fight. Her stamina was truly impressive, even if it was the result of genetic modification. _“Moving to assist_.”

Then he heard the sound of clamping metal on asphalt. _“MEC soldier Amahle arriving to assist.”_ The Marauder-class MEC informed as it charge in from the right, flamethrowers at the ready. _“Providing support_.” Her wrists were raised and blue and orange flames spat out of them and she sprayed them in such a way as to engulf the entire street. Mutons and Centurions howled in pain as they were cooked inside their own armor.

The ten-foot MEC continued into the firestorm she’d started, shooting cones of flame at Muton squads who were scattering to the wind now that she’d come to assist. Carmelita took advantage of the chaos and leapt into their disorganized lines, poisoning and executing every Muton she could see…until she leaped back to the XCOM-ADVENT line.

“Elites!” She cursed. “And more Berserkers!”

“We’ve got a problem over here!” Chan called, and Oliver glanced to see that the entire XCOM line was being suppressed by the massive plasma cannons the Elites carried. They were split, two Elites per XCOM soldier, in essence pinning them in one place while the soldiers and Centurions advanced unhindered. To step out was to get annihilated on site. Even Lesedi was coming under fire, even as she dropped soldier after soldier.

 _“Mariner Team, stand by for evacuation,”_ the Commander informed. _“ADVENT is coordinating a retreat of the city. Wait for Lightning Sky to pick you up. Under two minutes.”_

Based on how quickly the Mutons were closing in, Oliver wasn’t sure they had that time. “Copy!” Carmelita yelled as two Berserkers charged around the corner and targeted the MEC. Amahle aimed her wrists at one and it was engulfed in flame while the other practically tried tackling her, and was summarily thrown into a wall, but disrupting her attack.

The Elites came right behind it, and began shooting at Amahle, who was not a small target. Carmelita assisted in finishing off the burned Berserker, but as Amahle was dealing with the remaining one, the half-dozen elites were firing every plasma rifle into her and it was taking a massive toll. The chassis sparked and melted under the green plasma, and one of the tanks was pierced by the Berserker and exploded, dismembering the alien, but damaging the MEC immensely.

 _“Critical system failure,”_ Amahle updated with mechanical coolness.

“Fall back!” Carmelita yelled as the skyranger roared overhead and set up on the street behind them. _“Run!”_

ADVENT was also taking the cue to get the hell out of there. Oliver tossed his grenade at the wounded Berserker as he ran and the explosion blew its leg apart, and Carmelita finished it off with an alloy cannon blast to the face. A yell from Chan caught his attention, and he saw the psion thrust his arms forward, sending out a light shockwave that briefly caused the Mutons to stumble, which gave them all the opportunity needed to escape.

Or almost all of them, anyway. As the Elites advanced, their focus on the MEC didn’t stop. They targeted the legs, busting and melting the joints beyond all repair as Amahle simply kept attempting to fight back, drawing the fire of the Mutons as the remaining XCOM soldiers retreated into the skyranger. Once a nameless Elite blasted the helmet of Amahle, the MEC went still and silent, only leaking oil and flammable liquid.

But she’d bought enough time for XCOM to escape, and Oliver watched with dismay as they flew up, the ramp closing in front of him as the aliens continued their conquest unchallenged. If they were retreating, it meant that the battle for Los Angeles was lost.

***

_San Francisco, United States of America_

One throw of his arm and a line of ADVENT soldiers were thrown back by a rippling psionic wave and slammed into the unyielding stone walls behind them. They crumpled to the ground, not dead, but he would finish them off soon enough.

The Battlemaster leapt towards one Officer that was desperately ordering a retreat and cut him down with a downward slash, immediately transitioning to three quick slices that killed and dismembered the soldiers standing right next to him. One gunner was telekinetically pulled towards him and met with a blade to the heart, and the Battlemaster clenched an opposite fist, briefly lifting three more soldiers and crushing their windpipes, before tossing them down the street.

He had lost count how many had died already, yet they still kept coming before him to die. Everything was attempted, and everything failed. They failed to grasp that they _could not kill him_. Or maybe that was changing. The soldiers appeared to be mobilizing some kind of retreat. They still kept firing at him, but with far less frequency than before.

He began marching up the street, paying little mind to the gauss bullets shot his way. Up ahead was an ADVENT encampment built into the street. Here, these soldiers were entrenched; rocketeers were in position and gunners began spitting hot rounds towards his position.

But they were not moving to attack. Indeed, soldiers were moving _away_ from the barricade and the ones that stayed were clearly hoping to buy time and slow him down.

It was all he could do not to laugh. Instead he let the tip of the bloodstained blade rest on the ruined concrete and waited for them to unleash whatever defenses they had left. Gauss rounds flew from their cannons and rifles and rockets from their launchers, even as they knew that the three rocketeers they had would be virtually useless.

The Battlemaster simply raised a free hand and the air shimmered before him. Caelior had taught him this trick once, and it appeared to do the trick.

All of the projectiles were suddenly stopped in mid-air, caught by the telekinetic barrier, and the Battlemaster watched with amusement as they continually filled the barrier up with small pieces of metal. But he was tired of waiting, and so kept walking forward, the barrier moving with him. The entrenched soldiers were frantically trying to find a weakness in the barrier, firing at his legs, arms, and even trying to ricochet rounds off the ground.

Rocketeers attempted to reload their launchers even as he stopped ten feet from the barricade itself and decided to end this farce. He did find it admirable that despite facing certain death, they were still attempting to stop him.

With another free hand he extended it towards the entrenched soldiers, at a minimum of twenty, and yanked back. The soldiers behind the barricade were slammed forward into it, the ones to the sides found their rifles yanked out of their hands, and the rocketeers tumbled to the ground. Even the ones near the back were thrown off-balance by the telekinetic grab.

The moment that happened, the Battlemaster dropped the barrier and charged towards the left side of the barricade, at what would likely appear to be the speed of light to the Humans.

He stabbed one soldier through the chest and transitioned to a slash within seconds, killing two more. With a free hand he focused on yet another human and squeezed, turning her head into paste. The final soldier he lifted up with a lower hand and brought down upon the bloody tip of his greatsword as he moved behind the barricade to kill the remaining soldiers.

To his mild disappointment, most of them were retreating in earnest, while only three gunners were left, firing wildly at the massive target before them. He charged towards one and killed her with a quick slash, charged to the next and repeated the decapitation. He executed the last one the same way, pleased that he’d killed them all before the corpse of the first gunner hit the ground, heads and bodies landing in different places.

He turned to begin hunting the remaining soldiers that were running away, but paused as the sounds of chopping wind and loud engines from the sky caught his attention and he saw six helicopters coming at him from all directions. Sacrifices to slow him down most likely, allowing the survivors to flee while they could.

He did not begrudge them. There was little shame in retreating from a superior foe. Flourishing his blade at the machines in the sky, he prepared to kill them just the same. They spat more bullets at him from embedded guns which turned the area around him into a sparking mess. These were certainly a higher caliber of weapon, as the impact did force him to take a step back, and multiple angles of attack from high-powered gauss cannons might unbalance him altogether.

But they couldn’t keep up with him. He charged forward to two of the helicopters, all of which were lowering to hover just above the four-story buildings for better shots, and threw his greatsword towards the cockpit of one, extendeding all of his hands to focus his telekinetic power on the one next to it.

He had no intention of bringing it down. He lacked the power to do so, but all he had to do was make it _stop_. His telekinetically guided blade pierced the glass of the first helicopter, killing the pilot instantly, causing it to veer away and crash into the building next to it in a shower of metal, stone and bodies. The helicopter blades on the other vehicle suddenly froze, and the machine fell to the ground like a stone, unable to fly and it impacted the ground with another explosion that killed all inside.

Fifteen seconds. And now the other helicopters were approaching and firing, and underneath them were at least twenty more soldiers that skidded to a stop as they saw him. Perhaps they had thought this was a retreat, but now found themselves exactly where they didn’t want to be.

“Retreat!” One of them called out as the helicopters began spitting more bullets at him. The Battlemaster ignored the soldiers as he saw they run into a nearby building to the right, he would deal with them after he killed the machines.

He extended a hand to the downed helicopter and his greatsword flew back into his hand as he turned to face the helicopters. They wanted to sacrifice themselves to protect their comrades? Then he would oblige them and saw no reason to waste time, and repeated the greatsword throw at one of the cockpits, impaling the pilot instantly.

It crashed into the helicopter next to it and both fell to the ground, damaging the building itself and killing a few unlucky soldiers on the ground who hadn’t yet entered the building, while he telekinetically grabbed one of the ADVENT corpses around him and tossed it at the blades of the helicopters. It was enough to not only chop the corpse into pieces, but damage the blades themselves, and the helicopter slowly crashed into the ground, ending with a large fireball.

The last one actually began to pull back, but the Battlemaster had no intention of letting it run, and simply stopped the helicopter blades and watched it collapse onto the bloodied pavement which soon became scorched as yet another explosion rocked the street.

He paused, recalling the greatsword to his hand as he turned to the building the soldiers had gone into. Curious. Not retreating exactly, not running, but fortifying. Inside a building. Where they couldn’t possibly kill him. Clearly a trap, perhaps they would lure him inside before trying to collapse the building on top of him?

His lips parted in a humorless grin under his helmet. Fine. He was curious if they were as predictable as that. They appeared to not know he had been fighting for centuries, and the concept of destroying a building to trap him was _not_ a new one. He approached the door and kicked it in, shattering it as he knelt under the human-sized entrance and stood once more to his full height as the soldiers inside began firing.

Luckily the room itself was high enough so he could act unhindered, so he might as well take advantage. He took a reverse grip on his greatsword and threw it towards an Officer at the end of the room, which appeared to be a furniture store of some kind, and impaled him in the throat while burying the sword deep into the wall.

Their gauss weapons couldn’t hurt him, and so he slowly walked through the room, pulled soldiers into his hands and killing them with whatever he could find. Many had their heads slammed onto pointed furniture which cracked their skulls like eggs; others he killed telekinetically with a gesture and application of force; more were killed on his sword when he finally reached it.

The entire weapon was designed to kill, and that was why the hilt, crossguard and pommel all ended with a sharp spike. He picked up a nearby ADVENT Officer and dragged her to the greatsword buried in the wall still, and slammed the side of her head into the right crossguard, shattering the weaker helmet with a crack.

While blood seeped out of the now-limp body, he repeated the same attack with another ADVENT soldier who’d gotten too close, killing him with the opposite side. At the same time, with a free hand he yanked the greatsword free and charged towards a duo of soldiers and killed them with a single swipe.

Not all the soldiers were dead, but it was apparently enough for ADVENT as the building suddenly shook and an explosion hit one of the corners. Another one hit a few seconds later and the remaining humans were thrown to ground. One was knocked out, presumably, and the other two apparently realized what was happening, but more explosions prevented them from standing straight.

Unsurprising that the Humans were willing to sacrifice their own to try and kill him, but they were likely desperate now. Unshaken and unafraid by the trembling ceiling and rocking floor, he strode over to the soldiers and grabbed them by the first limb he could reach and made his way outside as a missile started the collapse of the building behind him.

Unwilling to risk being trapped, he charged out, and to the left as he saw the building collapsed behind him, crumbling into stone, steel and throwing up a wave of dust. He tossed the two soldiers onto the street, surrounded by their dead and mutilated brethren. He would kill them, but not then.

They seemed stunned they were still alive, coughing and looking around in disbelief, and up at him while they stood. He brandished his blade. “Defend yourselves.” He commanded and it dawned on them that they were still going to die, but facing a Battlemaster instead of crushed under stone. The left one grabbed a rifle and unloaded it on him, while the other reached for her pistol and also began firing.

His armor sparked as the projectiles made new scratches in the metal, but he saw no reason to attack yet. The woman’s pistol clicked and he flashed forward and stabbed diagonally upward through her throat, the blade puncturing out of the top of her helmet, killing her instantly. He pulled it out and swung in a dizzying arc, decapitating the man beside her.

Clean and quick kills, exactly what they deserved.

Curiously enough, the street was silent, and the ADVENT soldiers in the distance were officially in full retreat, shouts in all directions colored with fear and desperation. If they were truly retreating now, he would let them go. But until the city was secure, he had no intention of sparing any soldier he came across.

With a flash and flourish of his greatsword, he marched off to go hunting.

***

_Portland, United States of America_

“Down!” Sierra yelled as an ADVENT soldier was suddenly sniped in the head and collapsed onto the pavement. She ducked behind a burned-out car and reloaded her weapon. _Snipers_. Which meant they were either getting too close to established positions, or the aliens were getting a _lot_ of reinforcements.

“I’ve got my sniper looking for them,” a Captain informed her as he slid into cover beside the front line of ADVENT and XCOM, even as more Vitakara were fortifying the end of the bridge. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll try and draw their fire,” Sierra said, risking a peek out. “I can take some hits. Matthew! Give me some cover!”

“With pleasure!” He called, standing up and miming lifting his hands as purple energy flowed around him. The entire line of Vitakara was suddenly lifted into the air, incapacitating and providing some cover against the snipers. Sierra leapt over the car and began dashing towards the end of the bridge, firing at the now-exposed Vitakara.

One Borelian was killed by her rifle, and the rest were executed by the hail of ADVENT fire from the soldiers. Sierra practically slammed into the corner of the bridge and Matthew let the floating corpses and junk in his hold fall to the ground. Sierra wasted no time and began shooting the surprised Vitakara who were now attempting to reposition.

Two Vitakarians were killed by rifle fire, and three Borelians were wounded trying to get away. She grunted as he felt her arm get slammed with something hot and saw her forearm was hot with green plasma, forcing her to pull back into cover as the green faded slowly.

“Sectoids!” Someone called, and Sierra risked looking out to see a dozen or so Sectoids running up, their augmented black arms indicating they were Leaders. Curiously enough, no one could accurately say what these aliens could actually _do_ , since all of them had been designated priority targets and killed almost on contact.

Unfortunately, they were probably going to find out now.

The alien forces were well-entrenched at the end of the bridge, taking cover on roofs, buildings and their own constructed alloy barricades as they began firing back against ADVENT in earnest. Most of the Borelian soldiers were concentrating all their fire on Matthew, and the Sectoids were now utilizing their own abilities.

She fired at one that was standing up, with purple energy beginning to surround it, and to her surprise it seemed to hit a barricade, and now she saw a faint distortion, similar to the one Matthew had erected earlier. A personal shield up, it raised the wicked-looking plasma cannon arm and fired at the front line.

Two shots missed, but one hit a reinforcing soldier in the back and flung him to the ground. Mark was close behind, and tried helping the wounded soldier to get back to cover, when the Leader chittered at it and sniper fire suddenly hit the area around Mark, and the XCOM soldier himself. Aegis armor could take a lot, but not even it could survive concentrated and coordinated sniper fire and after the helmet cracked under a flurry of plasma lances, the body went still.

It had happened in seconds, with nothing any of them could have done. Sierra gritted her teeth and renewed her assault on the front-line Sectoid, which had been joined by four more of the Leaders, who were projecting similar barriers in front of them and shooting plasma rounds at the ADVENT line, which was more or less neutralized.

Sierra pulled out a grenade and rolled it under the feet of one Leader who looked down, chittered, and was suddenly ripped apart by the explosion of shrapnel. It seemed the barriers only worked one way. Good to know.

Plasma suddenly rained down upon her position again, and she decided she might as well test the barrier and unloaded her rifle onto the nearest Leader she could. It spun to her with some surprise in its orange eyes, but didn’t waste time firing at her either, though it wasn’t very accurate. Behind it came another leader also emanating psionic energy, and it motioned in her direction.

Nothing seemed to happen at first, then she was wracked by a splitting migraine so bad she collapsed to the ground, rifle chattering to the ground as she grabbed her helmet, wanting the world to fade around her. It was like someone was taking a hammer repeatedly to her brain, and on _some_ level she knew it was a psionic attack, but she just wanted the pain to stop.

The ground around her shook, and she thought someone was calling her name, but the migraine abated for a minute and she fixated on the alien that was causing her pain, and did perhaps the stupidest thing she could have: Charged at it. But she didn’t care, either she was going to go insane, or die if the fucking alien kept affecting her mind.

She barely paid attention to the other Leaders who chittered in surprise as she charged past them, aside from slamming the butt of her rifle into the head of one and firing an entire clip into the face of the Leader debilitating her, blowing the face into a gray and yellow stain. The migraine didn’t vanish instantly, but it did gradually get better and she fell into cover behind a silver barricade, and the Leaders realized they were in trouble.

She fired at one in the back, sending it sprawling forward, dead, and began focusing on another one when a direct plasma shot from a flanking Vitakarian soldier hit her arm, practically shattering the armor. Another bolt hit her skin and she looked down at it, expecting to see the arm gone and waiting for a flash of pain.

But it didn’t come. The green plasma sizzled on her arm, but she barely felt it. The Vitakarian seemed astonished she was still alive, and so she killed him with a burst of gauss fire to the face. Matthew had evidently taken an opening as well and had one arm extended to the group of Leaders attempting to reposition, and clenched his hand into a fist.

Their heads suddenly exploded in bursts of yellow and gray gore, and the headless corpses fell to the ground and Sierra shakily rose to a kneeling position, most of the migraine gone, and half of her armor destroyed. _Iron skin. Best thing XCOM ever made_.

She peered up at the top of the buildings were the snipers were established, a mixture of Cobrarians and Vitakarians, and fired. She hit one Cobrarian in the…neck? She supposed it was, anyway, and then forced the rest into cover as Matthew also took the initiative, sending a wave of energy towards the aliens that knocked them back or destabilized them.

One Vitakarian sniper was taken out by an opposing sniper, and now ADVENT was taking the frontwards alien barricades, and focusing on the snipers themselves, and now the rightmost Vitakara were focusing on her. Sierra scowled and turned her weapon on them, now wanting to test the limits of what exactly she could do.

She leapt over her cover and charged to the Vitakara line which seemed surprised at her frontal attack, but still attempted to fire. Plasma scorched her armor, but she felt nothing yet. One Vitakarian she executed instantly and grabbed the other one, easily overpowering him and forcing him to act as a body shield.

Or maybe it was a she? Sierra didn’t care as it tried to fight back, but the genetic modification had made her _much_ stronger than the alien, and it did little more than annoy her as she began advancing on the flanking Vitakara barricades. They actually seemed hesitant to shoot _at_ her, which was interesting, but worked to her advantage and she fired her pistol at them, knowing firing a rifle properly was impossible.

Once she was close enough, she blew the brain out of her hostage and threw its corpse at the Borelian and fired several times quickly in the head. His friend fired directly into her chest, being absorbed by the armor, and she killed him with a few quick shots. She glanced around her…twelve left, and ADVENT was beginning to reinforce this position as Matthew led the attack on the other side.

Covered in plasma scoring, soot, and alien blood, Sierra reloaded her pistol and dashed towards the farthest alien that could flank her. Plasma flew over, behind and in front of her, but only a couple bolts grazed her. A few frantic shots from her pistol forced the Vitakarian into cover and she leapt on top of him, putting a bullet into his head point-blank, and shooting several shots into the side of the Borelian next to him.

It spun towards her, plasma rifle firing and hit her arm again, and _now_ she felt it burning slightly. Grimacing, she fired a few more pistol shots into the Borelian’s head and ducked into cover as ADVENT advanced, and got the attention of the other Vitakara. She appraised her now-stinging arm which looked almost charred. Well, it seemed that she _wasn’t_ invincible, and should probably not get hit there anymore.

But Sierra felt like she’d made enough of a difference. The Vitakara seemed to be retreating now, and more ADVENT soldiers were coming across the bridge and spreading into what had been Vitakarian territory. “Zara, we’re on the other side and establishing position. Mark is dead, but the aliens seem to be retreating.”

 Zara’s voice held an iron tone. _“Good work, I’m also on the other side of our bridge. Seems to be a general retreat. We lost Tamara and Nati is dead as well. They hit the area up by the Goliath harder than here, it seems. Charlie is wounded as well, but they held and they’re being pushed back. Everyone else is alright. Portland seems to be remaining under Human control.”_

Sierra grinned at that pronouncement. _That’s what they get for coming to my homeland_. “I’ll assist ADVENT forces in securing the area then.”

 _“Correct,”_ Zara affirmed, gunfire in the background. _“Good luck and stay alive. No more deaths today.”_

Sierra went to retrieve her rifle and reloaded it while looking into the outskirts of the city as ADVENT advanced further in. Time to help with the offensive.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

The good news: They were keeping the aliens from advancing any further.

The bad news: They weren’t making any progress against said aliens.

The Mutons may be awful shots while working through her attempted debilitation, but they were providing a large enough volume of fire to prevent anything from moving. Not to mention that they were almost instantly replaced by more. For every one they killed, another took its place within minutes.

The Andromedons were slower and more mechanical, if that was possible, but they could actually shoot with some precision, and whoever this Andromedon commander was, he was figuring out that it was actually much more efficient to use the acid all the Andromedons had.

“Back up!” Creed yelled to a squad of ADVENT soldiers as two Andromedons launched green pellets at their position which splashed and hissed where they had been. Patricia and Kim focused on the exposed aliens and fired, and the combined might of the heavy autorifles was able to bring one down.

Mordecai was still trying to get a bead on the leader, who Patricia could see still commanding from the back, personally ordering various Centurions and programming Andromedons suits to specific locations. He was irritatingly competent, and actually knew what he was doing for a change, which was in contrast to many alien leaders they’d had previously.

Of course he was going to have quite a lot of dead Andromedons when this was over, because even if Patricia couldn’t control the suits, the beings inside them were enslaved to her and she had simply ordered them to kill themselves. Most had accomplished this by smashing their heads on whatever control panels they had in the suit, or bodily harm some other way.

Regardless, she imagined it was going to be messy for whoever opened the suits, and it had probably been very painful for the Andromedons within. Not that she particularly cared, but if she’d expected an emotional response from the commanding Andromedon, she wasn’t getting it.

Liliyane and Creed shot up an entire Muton line, but they were almost immediately replaced, and a reinforcement pod of four Andromedon soldiers was now firing their plasma lances on them. Rosario and Kim fired at the Andromedons, and Patricia suddenly realized there _was_ one weakness that they’d possibly overlooked.

“Weapons!” She called. “Shoot the _weapons_!”

The command spread through the ranks quickly, and Creed and Liliyane risked peeking out and returning fire. A shot from Mordecai hit the rifle an Andromedon was holding and it blew up in a small green explosion, taking off the entire arm. The commanding Andromedon looked up to where Mordecai was stationed and pointed.

Two things happened in quick succession. All of the Andromedons on the field eschewed all other ADVENT targets and focused exclusively on XCOM soldiers, including the one that had just gotten his arm blown off. In fact, it charged the line itself. The second was that all Muton fire was instantly concentrated on Mordecai’s position and one bolt actually hit his head directly.

It didn’t kill him, but it certainly stunned him and Patricia knew that he couldn’t take another shot there. But the plasma was doing far worse than _hitting_ him, but it was weakening the floor he was standing on, and Muton Grenadiers were now firing grenades up towards the top that a dazed Mordecai couldn’t respond to. “Get down from there!” She yelled up at him as she began shooting at an Andromedon suit targeting Rosario.

 _“I’m-“_ he began and she saw the entire area where he’d gone go up in a green explosion. _Fuck!_ There was no way he was alive now, and the situation was getting worse. The wounded Andromedon had charged up to Kim’s position and raised its good arm and sprayed a green mist on him that he wasn’t able to avoid.

Friendly fire from the side brought the Andromedon down due to the sheer hail of it, but the acid was already eating through the weaker armor on the helmet and arms. Joseph was frantically trying to neutralize the acid with his med-kit, but the remaining Andromedon suits were still firing at him, and it was difficult for him to work in that condition.

More ADVENT soldiers were coming to reinforce, and Patricia figured they needed to do something now before things got even worse. She tuned to the ADVENT command frequency. “ADVENT Command this is Psion Trask. Requesting airstrike at coordinates that will be transmitted shortly. Acknowledge?”

 _“Acknowledged,”_ came a voice. _“We’re standing by. We need exact coordinates though or the rockets might-“_

“I know how this works!” She snarled, and pointed at the back where the Andromedon leader was. “Officers! Mark far back Andromedon for airstrike! Everyone else suppressive fire on the Andromedons!” Her body flared with psionic energy as she repeated attempting to mentally afflict the Mutons. Fine, if they wouldn’t follow her commands, they would not follow _any_ commands.

But for that to happen, she had to break their minds apart. So she inflicted every possible curse that came to her mind. Blindness, being flayed alive, skewered with hot irons, the possibilities were endless, and she made sure to amplify every feeling a hundredfold and the screams of the Mutons took on a much louder pitch as she began driving them to insanity.

They were surprisingly resistant to pain, but even they had limits. They may have somehow been enslaved to disobey her commands, but their minds were still vulnerable to the effects. There were four Officers standing up and marking the Andromedon in the back, and the rest were firing at the Andromedon suits, some of which were now sparking and falling over in ruins.

An Officer was shot and killed, but Patricia heard the planes now. _“Target locked,”_ the pilot said. _“Firing.”_

A few seconds later a barrage of missiles struck the building behind the Andromedon leader and the concussion blast blew him forward and he fell to the ground. The tank on his back seemed ruptured, and the missile launcher or equipment on his shoulder seemed damaged, but otherwise he was alive. However, the distraction was all Patricia needed to send one final mental push to the Mutons.

And they broke.

They started turning on each other, the Andromedons and the Humans. Inhuman screams dominated them as they tried to claw, shoot and rip everything around them apart. The Andromedon leader was backing up now, tapping hurriedly on his haptic display, but having very little success it seemed.

Several more Andromedon suits exploded as the combined fire of ADVENT and XCOM overwhelmed them, even as more ADVENT soldiers fell to the plasma lances and acid of the suits. Then the Andromedon leader shouted something in the echoing and booming voice of their species, and the remaining suits began pulling back, making sure to contaminate the ground before them.

The Mutons seemed to be abandoned, and the Andromedons executed whichever ones tried to attack them, but left the rest to likely serve as a distraction. More Officers were arriving, and the engineers were beginning to making fortifications near the ruined battlefield, even as the Mutons continued killing each other.

“Commander,” Patricia said, taking stock of the still chaotic situation. “What’s the status of the attacks? Alien forces just retreated here.”

 _“Affirmative, good job,”_ the Commander answered approvingly, though the tightness in his voice was not reassuring. _“The good news is that we are still holding strong. Whoever this leader was, he brought a lot of reinforcements just to attack you.”_ Patricia looked at the hundreds of alien corpses and suits littering the parking lot.

“I figured,” she said. “But if you say we’re still strong…”

 _“I mean that the aliens haven’t really retreated,”_ the Commander confirmed. _“They’re pulling back in some places, but they haven’t lost much ground, and we haven’t either. This is more or less a stalemate for now, but the fighting itself is gradually dying down as both sides are regrouping. Forward offensives are too risky right now, especially not with this Andromedon leader.”_

“Agreed,” Patricia grimaced. “He was prepared for us.”

 _“The battle isn’t lost or won yet,”_ the Commander continued. _“You’re being recalled until the situation escalates again. We need to reevaluate our strategies against them so this doesn’t happen again.”_

“We’re pulling back?” She asked, frowning.

 _“XCOM is,”_ the Commander said. _“ADVENT can hold for now, and I don’t want to lose more soldiers unnecessarily.”_

“We’ll be here, then,” Patricia said, wondering how the rest of the defenses had gone. The Commander never generally betrayed much emotion in his tone, especially during missions, but she had the feeling that this had not gone as well as they’d hoped.

***

_San Francisco, United States of America_

The Battlemaster stood on the outskirts of the city and watched as the ADVENT army retreated deeper into the country, away from him. They could run as far as they wished, at some point there would be nowhere left for them to go, but for now they could believe they escaped. His mission was a success and the city would now be claimed for the Collective.

The _Cultro_ swooped down with a low hum and landed onto the ground beside him, and the CODEX figure materialized outside instantly. “The city is cleared of hostiles, Battlemaster. An estimated two-hundred to two-hundred-fifty thousand civilians remain.”

“Noted,” the Battlemaster said, turning around to face the city. “Give the order to bring forces to lock this city down. ADVENT is gone. The rest should be easy.”

“Confirmed,” the figure stated emotionlessly. “Pacification forces are now deployed.”

“Status of other offensives?” He demanded of the CODEX.

“ADVENT and XCOM forces at Los Angeles have been routed, and Sargon Disciple-7 is securing the city,” the CODEX stated. “J’Loran encountered Psion Patricia Trask, as expected, and there is currently a stalemate in the city between ADVENT and Collective forces. XCOM has retreated from the field of battle, though J’Loran is hesitant to press without reinforcements.”

The Battlemaster nodded. Excellent. One city captured, and a stalemate was just as acceptable an outcome. Once Gateways were established, ADVENT would not be able to feasibly hold out forever. “And what of Portland?”

“Collective forces have been pushed back,” the CODEX explained neutrally. “Analysis indicates the Vitakara forces had no suitable counters or strategies to XCOM MECs, psions or enhanced soldiers. Additional note: Multiple XCOM soldiers displayed additional enhanced abilities. Footage is available for review.”

“Archive it for access on the Temple Ship,” the Battlemaster ordered, turning on his heel and entering the Overseer. If there was any battle he predicted would be lost, it would have been the one at Portland. The Vitakara unfortunately were not hard counters to many of the more dangerous elements of XCOM, and in truth, were not exceptional front-line soldiers. This assault had confirmed it, and he would learn and capture the city another day.

Today was a victory for the Collective, and he knew the Imperator would be pleased. The beginning of the end of ADVENT and XCOM had begun with a statement the world could not ignore.

Now it was time to tighten the grip on the territories they controlled while the Humans puzzled over what to do next. He suspected that Quisilia would find it amusing.

 _You wanted this, Aegis,_ he thought as the Overseer rose and the indications of the allied transports appeared on his display. _Time for you to decide how far you want to take it._

Whatever game Aegis was playing, the Battlemaster was content to play it to the end. They had been friends for too long to him to consider Aegis a traitor. There was another angle here, and he was going to find it.

But if Aegis was truly a traitor, then he would put him down without hesitation.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 8: ADVENT Military

Subsection 8.2: Structure

 **Overview:** Below are the varying ranks and positions within the following divisions. Please note that sections specifically covering a division will only highlight relevant positions exclusive to that division. Genetic and standardized breakdowns are in the previous subsection.

ADVENT Military Command: Holds senior staff for all ADVENT branches and is the central body for decisions that affect the entire ADVENT military and even ADVENT as a whole. The following positions are as follows:

  * The Commander of the ADVENT Military
  * The General of the Army Division
  * The Chief Admiral of the Navy Division
  * The Wing Commander of the Air and Space Division
  * The Chief Operator of the Special Forces Division (Can be substituted with the Chief of Lancer Operations)
  * The Chief Responder of the Special Response Division
  * The Chief Overseer of the Oversight Division
  * The Chancellor of ADVENT (Advisory position)
  * The Chief of Peacekeeper Operations (Advisory Position)



ADVENT Army Division: Has responsibility over the majority of ADVENT ground and vehicle forces and the ranks are as follows by seniority:

  * General (Oversees the ADVENT Army Division)
  * Chief Marshal (Oversees Legions)
  * Marshal (Oversees Garrisons)
  * Colonel (Oversees Companies)
  * Corporal (Oversees Units)
  * Officer (Oversees Squads)
  * Soldier



ADVENT Navy Division: Has responsibility over the majority of ADVENT naval ships and forces, and the ranks are as follows by seniority:

  * Chief Admiral (Oversees the ADVENT Navy Division)
  * Admiral (Oversees Legions)
  * Major (Oversees Garrisons)
  * Captain (Oversees Companies)
  * Lieutenant (Oversees Units)
  * Officer (Oversees Squads)
  * Soldier



ADVENT Air and Space Division: Has responsibility over the majority of ADVENT air force and the ranks are as follows by seniority. Note: Does not follow standard breakdown of force composition and has no standard equivalent.

  * Wing Commander (Oversees the ADVENT Air and Space Division)
  * Wing Captain
  * Wing Tactician
  * Wing Officer
  * Wing Pilot



ADVENT Special Forces Division: Has responsibility for the special forces of ADVENT and the ranks are as follows by seniority. Note: Does not follow standard breakdown of force composition and has no standard equivalent.

  * Chief Operator
  * Chief of Lancer Operations
  * Primary Director of Special Operations
  * Senior Operator
  * Lancer Officer
  * Lancer Operative



ADVENT Special Response Division: Has responsibility over various unique aspects of ADVENT including experimental units, specialized forces and other aspects that do not conform to standardized ADVENT forces, and are equipped to respond to asymmetrical or unknown threats. Note: Does not follow standard breakdown of force composition and has no standard equivalent.

  * Chief Responder
  * Unit Overseer: Psionic Response
  * Unit Overseer: Extraterrestrial Response Commander
  * Unit Overseer: Terrorist Response
  * Unit Overseer: Domestic Response
  * Unit Overseer: Military Reinforcement
  * Unit Overseer: Non-sentient Response
  * Officer
  * Responder



ADVENT Oversight Division: Has Responsibility for oversight of the ADVENT military to ensure that all divisions are in accordance with ADVENT standards and policy. Note: Does not follow standard breakdown of force composition and has no standard equivalent.

  * Chief Overseer
  * Overseer
  * Commanding Investigator
  * Chief Inspector
  * Chief Interrogator
  * Investigator
  * Inspector
  * Interrogator
  * Officer
  * Operative



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music listened to while writing the Battlemaster scenes was To Glory and Pontiff Sulyvahn from Two Steps From Hell and Dark Souls III respectively, if you were curious about that. So yeah, this chapter was rather fun to write. I've also found out in that time that someone made a tvtropes page for my series, so if that's something your interested in, check it out. I found it a good read, even if some of the information isn't quite accurate. Link: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/XCOMTheHadesContingency 
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter shouldn't be too long a wait.
> 
> -Xabiar


	11. Tenuous Diplomacy

 

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

Saudia fixed the Commander of the ADVENT Military with the most neutral expression she could muster, a feat that was more difficult for her than she liked. Perhaps she should have been here, but Ethan, Laura and the Commander himself had dissuaded her, seeing no reason to potentially risk herself if the aliens attacked the Citadel. They _did_ know the location, after all.

However, after it had mostly gone to hell, Saudia figured a personal assessment was needed, since some of the initial reports were borderline ludicrous. None more so than the story concerning San Francisco.

“ _One_ Ethereal,” she stated flatly, looking Laura straight in the eyes. “ _One_ Ethereal forced a retreat of an _entire garrison_.”

To her credit, Laura faced her and gave a firm nod, her lips set in a thin line. “Yes, Chancellor.”

“With a sword.”

“…Yes, Chancellor.”

A short pause.

“It appeared to be a rather _sharp_ sword.”

“Spare me,” Saudia muttered with a dismissive wave, wishing she could ignore it just based on how ludicrous it sounded. “I suppose you didn’t try and bomb it?”

“Chancellor, we tried almost every tactic short of dropping a nuke on the city,” Laura interrupted, exasperation leaking out of her voice. “ _It didn’t work_. Nothing we did _could hurt it_!”

“Stop berating her for something she couldn’t control,” the Commander interrupted, pushing himself up from the wall and walking over to the holotable. He’d held back at the beginning, apparently content to let them talk, until now it seemed. But unlike Laura, he didn’t seem to have an issue speaking his mind as bluntly as possible. “I told you that the Ethereals were more powerful than you were anticipating.”

“Strong enough to _beat_ an entire garrison?” Saudia demanded, whirling on him.

“If I had purely relied on what I’d heard, yes,” the Commander answered, his own lips pressed in a hard line. That was when she noticed that despite him trying to compose himself, he actually seemed _worried_. “I personally thought some of it was exaggerated. I knew the Battlemaster in particular was tough, but I didn’t not expect him to match, let alone _exceed_ , what I’d heard. _I_ messed up. _Laura_ messed up. We _all_ underestimated their power. Would _you_ have anticipated that would happen?”

Saudia took a breath before answering. “No.”

“Since everyone here can be at fault, I propose we move on,” the Commander continued, resting his hands on the holotable and looking between each of them. “There is no point to bickering about who made the worse decision.”

“With respect, I agree, Chancellor,” Laura nodded in agreement. “If nothing else…we have a better idea of just what we can expect.”

“We made mistakes,” the Commander sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Now we need to learn from them before the next attack.”

She had to admit that the Commander had the useful talent of focusing on what needed to be done and cutting out the superfluous details. While Saudia had expected better from both of them, they were also right in that in their place, she probably would have done just as well, or much worse. “Then we continue. San Francisco is lost, that can be definitively stated.”

“Yes,” Laura said with a firm nod, glancing down and activating the holotable. A map of the West Coast appeared, and zoomed in on San Francisco. “Shortly after the retreat, alien transports arrived for what I presume to be an occupation force. No idea about numbers or units, but we can likely assume the civilians lost.”

Her face expressionless, Saudia asked. “How many?”

A twitch of her lips was Laura’s only visible reaction. “At minimum? At least two hundred thousand.”

That was not going to be easily downplayed. The capture of two of the most prominent cities in America was enough of a blow, before people began asking what exactly was happening to the people left in the cities. If word got out that one alien was responsible for the capture of one city, it could spread panic. The good news was that the only people who knew about that were the soldiers, ADVENT analysts in the Citadel, and the media that insisted on following the armies.

Or maybe not so good news. Those media personnel needed to be silenced somehow, albeit carefully. The Commander apparently had the same thought. “It would be best if San Francisco was downplayed. They don’t need to know how it fell.”

“And how exactly are we going to keep it quiet?” Laura sighed. “The soldiers aren’t going to talk about it, at least not outside the military. We can issue orders to refrain from discussing it with civilians, but the non-ADVENT personnel there are going to pose an issue to this plan.”

“I doubt it is a large problem,” the Commander shrugged. “Explain to them that this needs to be kept secret for now to avoid causing a panic. Have them sign a piece of paper swearing them to silence, and if they break it, they go to jail. Simple.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Commander, you haven’t dealt much with the media, have you?”

Saudia almost cracked a smile at that, and the Commander gave a sad one of his own. “I’m unfortunately familiar with them, and my general stance on them is to not give them an inch. If their work risks ADVENT stability, then stop it.”

“It’s one thing with XCOM,” Laura said slowly. “You’re not exactly beholden to any nation, nor are your operations large enough to warrant major attention. You must know how seriously journalists take censorship. This is how leaks happen, and then that muddies the waters even further.”

The Commander’s face turned as hard as stone. He straightened and looked directly at Saudia. “I will not tell you what decisions to make, but you have provisions in the Advent Directive to put a stop to illegal and destabilizing media. I suggest you use it.”

All of them had gotten tenser; Laura’s own tone was wary. “That would perhaps instigate more backlash.”

The Commander gave a cold smile. “And why, exactly, should you fear backlash, or are even sure it will last? Are you worried about riots? Civil war? This is what the Peacekeepers are for, Commander Christiaens, and why Saudia appointed Stein.”

“Fair point,” Laura muttered. “That decision is outside my jurisdiction anyway. Chancellor, we can discuss that later. Perhaps we should move on.”

“Portland,” Saudia immediately said, clasping her hands behind her back. “Our lone victory.”

“We can thank XCOM and the city structure for that,” Laura said, inclining her head to the Commander. “The choke points prevented our forces from being overwhelmed and I don’t know _what_ you did to your soldiers…” she shook her head. “But they secured our victory.”

“I’ll pass that along,” the Commander affirmed. “We suffered losses of our own, but your soldiers performed well against the Vitakara. It would be foolish to say we alone saved Portland.”

“But you certainly helped,” Laura said, clearing her throat. “From observing footage of the battle itself, I’m not entirely sure why this battle went much better than the others.”

“Because the aliens didn’t do anything surprising,” the Commander answered immediately. “They sent in their army, and we defended. Much like Japan, we had the advantage here. They didn’t do anything creative, nor had any counter to my psions and MEC.”

“So what you’re saying is that we have a good chance of victory if the aliens don’t do anything unexpected?” Saudia asked, raising an eyebrow. “A bold assertion.”

“A better chance than usual,” the Commander amended, scratching his chin. “The thing is…here the aliens didn’t deploy anything but Vitakara and several of the Sectoid Leaders. No mechanical units of any kind. Would the battle have gone differently if that had changed? I’m not sure, but I believe we would have won Portland regardless because the aliens intentionally baited me specifically.”

The Commander admitting he’d messed up? That was…unexpected. “Explain?” Saudia asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s obvious in retrospect,” the Commander admitted. “Portland was the second-last city to be hit, with San Francisco being the last. He didn’t want or anticipate XCOM soldiers being sent there for whatever reason. Laura, remember the initial reports from Seattle and LA?”

“Andromedons in Seattle, Mutons in LA,” she recalled, a finger tapping on the holotable. “The units we considered the most and least dangerous, respectively.”

“They expected me to deploy my strongest soldiers to Seattle,” the Commander continued. “Which included Patricia. And I sent my less experienced squad to LA because I didn’t anticipate any surprises from the Mutons, who aren’t much for subtlety or strategy.”

“But you were wrong,” Saudia finished, seeing how it had happened. “They were prepared for both. And Portland was left with the middle squad. Standard, if you will.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “It’s that simple. However, the good news is that they won’t be able to do that again so easily.”

“How _was_ Patricia negated?” Saudia asked. “After Japan, I didn’t think she could be stopped.”

“Vahlen is performing autopsies now on some or the corpses we recovered,” the Commander explained, looking down at the holotable. “Initial impressions are that these Mutons had their brains cybernetically modified. Whatever they did, it prevented full mind control. And the leader was also somehow immune to mind control, but not the Andromedon soldiers for some reason. The only issue was that the leader overrode the suits and let the system take over as if the owner had died. Clever, really.”

“Do we have any information on the leader then?” Saudia asked.

“We have images,” the Commander began hesitantly. “Based on the information I’ve gathered and…sources. It appears to be an Andromedon called J’Loran. Highly placed in the Battlemaster’s circle of trust; expert tactician; excellent soldier and dislikes psionics. Probably why he was chosen to develop a plan specifically to counter Patricia.”

That was…a lot of specific information. However, she wasn’t exactly concerned with where he got his information from as long as it was accurate. “What is to stop them from cybernetically modifying every Muton to make them immune?”

“Cost, probably,” Laura answered, glancing at the Commander. “It’s worth the investment if you want to negate a certain psion. However, it’s not exactly worth it if you don’t kill the psion in question. Besides, Mutons elsewhere are unmodified, and the mind-control immunity has some side effects. Namely, that they become much worse when mentally affected, and can be driven insane.”

“So it’s not perfect.” Saudia noted.

“Not yet,” the Commander said slowly, furrowing his eyebrows. “But after this, I think they’ll devote some time to investigating it. But the issue they’ll have is that this can be easily countered by simply sending additional or differently specialized psions. This will do absolutely nothing to stop a telekinetic or attack psion.”

Saudia felt a measure of relief at that. “That is good. What is the current status of Seattle?”

“Holding,” Laura said. “We’ve not gained, nor lost ground. However, much of that is due to my ordering airstrikes on territory they control. I’m trying to deny them as much ground as possible before they build AA defenses.”

“Realistically, do you think you can hold it?” The Commander asked.

“That depends on how badly we want to keep it,” Laura answered slowly. “Give me steady reinforcements, XCOM support, and reliable supply lines, and I can make sure it’s held, barring an increase in alien activity. But without those…They can keep throwing disposable Mutons at us, and Andromedons like to run before we hurt them too badly. Humans are smarter, but can’t be replaced as easily.”

“You’ll have what you need for now,” Saudia assured her. “We can’t lose Seattle right now. Otherwise they can simply come down to Portland and surround it. Now…LA. What happened?”

“Simply put, we underestimated them,” the Commander said bluntly, the corners of his lips twitching. “The Mutons were organized, directed and employed actual tactics and attempted unconventional attacks. A lot of Mutons died, but the majority were soldiers, and since they managed to kill several of my own, including a MEC, they probably consider that a fair trade.”

“They hit from a lot more angles than we were expecting,” Laura added. “They employed Gateway transports as well, but delayed attacking until they had a sizable force and hit us from the flanks. They slowly drained the reinforcements from the inner city until there were almost none left. We could have stayed and died, or tried fighting our way out. Both of us agreed the latter was preferable.”

“Then it must not have been a Muton leading them,” Saudia guessed, frowning. “That seems far too sophisticated for them, not to mention the precision you allege.”

“Not necessarily,” the Commander said. “There is one Muton type that is capable of such. They call it a Sargon. Very rare, normally used for overseeing territory. Using them in battle though, is almost unheard of. After this display, I’m wondering why.”

“If it _is_ a Sargon.” Laura pointed out.

“One of my soldiers saw a Muton accompanied by Elites, and matched the description I’ve been provided on them,” the Commander shrugged. “I may be wrong, but Muton Elites flanking _any_ Muton is unheard of. What else but a Sargon, or equally valuable Muton, would warrant a personal escort?”

Laura frowned. “Good point.”

Saudia pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. “The fighting has stabilized…more or less. Treduant is making an address to try and reassure the population, and I’ll be giving one as well. It might be good to have you say something as well, Commander.”

“No,” he refused bluntly. “I need to return to the Praesidium and figure out how we’re going to kill this Battlemaster. That is the priority now for us and I won’t interfere in pacifying the population. That is your job now. Mine is to kill the aliens.”

“Be sure and keep us appraised of the developments,” Laura told him. “A lot more than the lives of just your soldiers is at stake.”

“I know,” the Commander assured her. “And we’ll be ready when the next attack hits. They won’t be able to pull this off so easy next time.”

“Let’s hope so,” Saudia warned as he straightened up. “Because we can’t take more defeats like this.”

“No, we can’t,” the Commander said, looking over to her. “However, the aliens have also presented you with an opportunity here. For whatever reason, they have ignored Canada. Perhaps the Prime Minister might be willing to help us here.”

“That’s a good note,” Laura nodded. “Why they ignored Canada is…interesting.”

That it was, and Saudia wasn’t exactly comfortable with that. “I’ll look into it,” she promised.

“Good luck then,” the Commander said, turning to leave. “We will be watching.”

Saudia didn’t know if the Commander had intended that to be reassuring or unnerving, but if it was the latter, she could safely say that it was successful. The Commander chose his words rather carefully, and she figured that the deliberate usage of what had been the former Council’s catchphrase was not accidental.

She’d puzzle it out later. There was much more important matters to attend to.

***

_Washington DC, United States of America_

_“We all knew this war would come to our land, and now that it has we will utilize every resource at our disposal to fight back against the alien scourge and avenge our fallen brothers and sisters. America will not bend to alien pressure, and backed by ADVENT and XCOM, we will ultimately succeed!”_

“Mute,” Nicole Treduant addressed the television as applause broke out at the end of her respective speech, and the commentators began discussing it once more. Saudia admired how the woman didn’t seem overly perturbed by any of the recent events. Although she’d been president for years, it likely came with the territory.

“Not a bad speech,” Elizabeth complimented from the couch she was seated on, an open laptop by her side and some scattered pieces of paper on the opposite side. Saudia was almost amused how much Elizabeth was uncomfortable just sitting quietly for an extended period of time. She always had to be doing _something_ ; walking, fiddling with laptops and rubix cubes or making notes on paper.

Even in the White House.

But no one seemed to mind. Disrupting the Director of ADVENT Intelligence was probably ill-advised, and Elizabeth was able to multitask to an extraordinary degree. Anything of substance that was discussed, she would recall it.

“Appreciated, Director,” Treduant sighed, leaning back into the couch and closing her eyes. “For what good it will do.”

“It will bring some amount of calm to the public,” the harsh voice of Amalda Stein stated, from the opposite couch of Elizabeth. “America is suitably paralyzed from the attack. I do not expect them to pose an organized threat.”

“Depends how the media treats this,” Elizabeth muttered, not looking up from her laptop. “In times like these, people are going to want to be informed. And ADVENT state media is not always their first choice.”

Treduant gave a loud exhale. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Congress is still trying to undermine me, and half the nation hates me. No offense, Saudia, but the media isn’t a fan of ADVENT. They might not try to frighten the population, but they _will_ lay the blame for anything they can on me.”

Stein snorted, an odd sound coming from the armored woman. Stein had apparently taken up the Commander’s habit of showing up in full armor to benign meetings. The black plating of her riot control officer armor contrasted sharply with the lightly-colored room and made the cold German woman even more intimidating than she already was. “I would not expect them to go that far. If they continue making false claims, there are laws to prevent that.”

“While efficiency may be the most prudent response, allow me to interject my own humble opinion,” Firdaus Hassan interrupted smoothly, seated comfortably on the same couch as Elizabeth. “You will not like this, Madam President, but the best solution right now is to ignore anything the media might say about you. Other nations are watching how we react to this. Chancellor, we must decide the image we want to portray to the world: One united in our resolve to defeat the aliens, or one looking suppress harmful dissent?”

Stein fixed him with a raised eyebrow. “In the words of a dumb taco commercial, ‘Why not both?’”

“Because we can’t _do_ both effectively,” Saudia said, her palms pressed together as she thought this situation through. “Taking a hard stance against the media would be impossible to ignore, and might give the populace the impression we are more concerned about our image than the aliens. It might be more beneficial in the long run, but I do not believe that is the optimal path right now.”

“Well said,” Hassan nodded. “Ultimately, the media cannot harm anything but your ego. The aliens pose a much larger threat we should focus on solving.”

“Then what should be our next moves?” Treduant asked, clasping her hands together. “If I want to keep the focus on our response, information will be vital. The people will be calmer if we present an active strategy.”

“ADVENT will be sending in reinforcements,” Saudia began. “Including some of ADVENT Engineering’s prototype MDUs. Mercado doesn’t feel like they are perfected yet, but I’ve instructed him to finish them up. And they will be highly effective against any new alien offensives. Laura has also assured me she can hold Seattle and Portland, provided she is given everything she needs.”

Treduant faced her with a look torn between skepticism and hope. “Be honest with me, Chancellor: How much good will that do if that… _thing_ that took San Francisco shows up?”

Saudia set her lips in a hard line. “At this point? Nothing, Madam President. I cannot reliably say we would stand any better chance. However, XCOM has made the neutralization of this “Battlemaster” their top priority.”

“A fitting name,” Elizabeth chimed in. “And as for what ADVENT Intelligence will be doing, I’ve begun organizing agents to begin attempted infiltration of alien-occupied cities. Given the size, we should be receiving accurate details within days. I’m coordinating with several local militia groups and landowners about how to deal with the aliens.”

“You’re arming them,” Stein stated, frowning. “I’m not sure that is responsible. Especially when a great many of the people you describe could be described as ‘ _patriots_.’”

“Easy, Stein,” Elizabeth chided, giving her a cold smile. “I’m well aware of what I’m doing. These people may despise Treduant at the moment, but if there’s one thing they hate more than ‘ _tyranny,’_ ” she added the appropriate air quotes to that word. “It’s literal illegal aliens invading their land. They are not hard to use, and arming them with weapons that might actually hurt the aliens is a sound strategic move. Right-wing fanatics some of them may be, but they know their firearms _and_ how to use them.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Stein said, shifting in her seat, a free hand resting lightly on her stun baton. “But if they prove unreliable, the Peacekeepers will arrest them.”

“Not a problem with me,” Elizabeth shrugged, biting her lip as she added some notes to a document. “But they aren’t that hard to use. If nothing else, they’ll slow down the aliens _without_ risking any of our actual soldiers.”

“That’s enough for me to put something together,” Treduant nodded at both women in thanks. “The image of Americans taking the fight to the aliens will be especially effective.”

“I’ll be sure to get some footage,” Elizabeth promised, before looking to Yong. “Now, internationally, we need to make some decisions.”

“What has been the general response to the attack?” Saudia asked Yong.

“Let’s see…” he looked up as if in thought. “ _Cautionary_ if anything. The fact that America is breached at all has clearly shaken their confidence, but they all knew it was inevitable, and that the majority of the damage has been limited to a few cities on the West Coast is seen as almost acceptable.”

His voice suddenly became much more serious and he fixed Saudia with an uncharacteristically firm stare. “If you didn’t come to the same conclusion, keep everything about this Battlemaster suppressed. The knowledge that they have _one_ alien who can rout our forces will be a devastating blow to international relations.” He raised a hand. “Yes, I am aware that these Ethereals are not completely representative of their forces, but that won’t really make a difference to them.”

“Don’t worry,” Saudia promised, exchanging a glance with Elizabeth. “Precautions are being taken.”

Satisfied, he continued. “With that out of the way, most of the EU still isn’t willing to join. From interactions with their diplomats, I’m getting the impression that they want to see how long America lasts before making a decision. Hold out for half a year or more, and then we can press them to join with a lot more confidence.”

Stein scowled at that. “Cowards. How fast do you think they’ll change their minds once _they_ come under attack?”

“Quickly, I’d expect,” Hassan nodded with a slight smile. “Especially when ADVENT comes in to save the day. However, we are not at the point that they are _needed_. Strategically, North and South America have become essential in the way. Africa and China are non-issues at this point, and the latter hasn’t commented whatsoever.”

“Mexico and Canada,” Saudia nodded. “Both of them joining ADVENT would greatly boost our own defense of the United States. They _have_ to know the war will reach them eventually.”

“I believe I can reach an agreement with Mexico,” Hassan agreed. “They recognize that the war is eventually going to spill into their territory if the aliens aren’t stopped. I believe if I emphasize the benefits of an alliance, along with a prominent declaration of our alliance, something along the lines of ‘fighting on the front lines’ or something like that, I believe they will join. In fact…”

He smiled and looked at Stein. “The President himself has heard a great deal about you, Chief Stein, and I do know that he has a rather strong feud with the many drug cartels that still operate in the cities. I do believe some assurances from you would actually help convince them of the benefits of ADVENT.”

Stein gave a smile devoid of emotion. “I would be happy to assure the President that my Peacekeepers would stamp out those criminals like the vermin they are.”

“Excellent!” Hassan nodded, making a note on his tablet. “I’ll arrange a meeting in the next few days, assuming you are free?”

“I’m heading down to Brazil immediately after we finish up here,” Stein told him, her smile never fading. “Apparently Marshal Luana is having some issues subduing the population. I’m going to straighten that out now, and remind the good Marshal that she is not above the law.”

“Gee, I wonder why she’s having trouble,” Treduant muttered, shooting Stein a dark look. “And I’m rather surprised to hear that. Given that Luana started this out of her hatred from criminals, I’d think you’d be best friends.”

“Cute, Madam President,” Stein chuckled. “Luana’s initial retaliation was justified, and her stances concerning crime are worthy of praise. But in her quest for vengeance, she has begun wars with countries unaffiliated with the initial revelations. They were started before I took my position and laws were adequately established, so I am allowing them to continue. However, should she expand her crusade, she will be removed. I am going to remind her of that.”

 _“Anyway,”_ Hassan interjected, clearing his throat. “Before we get too off-topic, there is the other matter to discuss: Canada.”

“I assume negotiations are going as well as before?” Elizabeth asked wearily, now fiddling with a rubix cube as she looked over at him.

“They are taking the alien’s refusal to attack as a sign they should continue to do nothing,” Hassan said with a grimace. “That was what their ambassador more or less implied.”

“Gutless cowards,” Stein swore. “What do they think the aliens are going to do it they win? Continue _ignoring_ them?”

“That isn’t for me to say,” Hassan said, turning his head to Saudia. “However, Chancellor, I do believe that even if Canada is unwilling to join us, they would be instrumental in moving our military through them to perhaps attack a vulnerable alien position.”

“The question,” Saudia said thoughtfully. “Is if they’ll even agree to that.”

“They’re open to talking at least,” Hassan confirmed. “The Prime Minister has indicated that he will be willing discuss it with you in person.”

Well, that was some good news. “Then set up the meeting if you can,” Saudia ordered with a nod. “Perhaps he will be able to clear up why Canada is so against joining us.”

“Didn’t they make it pretty clear?” Elizabeth snorted. “Something about how we were too ‘authoritarian?’”

“To be fair, they aren’t wrong,” Hassan chuckled. “But they seem to view it as a completely bad thing.”

“I’m sure I’ll get some clearer answers from the Prime Minister,” Saudia interjected, before a discussion began on the pros and cons of _that_ topic. She had learned a while ago that everyone in the room had rather strong opinions on the subject and were willing to discuss them. While interesting, they didn’t have time. “We have our plan. Let’s carry it out.”

***

_Tehran, Iran_

To Roman’s complete lack of surprise, the Iranians had not surrendered.

Oh, he was quite certain they would, but not before ADVENT stormed their capital and arrested or killed the leadership. Idiots. They had to know by now that resistance was pointless, and all they were accomplishing was getting their soldiers killed…and for what? A few more hours of freedom? A few more hours of lies they could tell their people? A few more hours clinging to their power and religion?

Roman smiled coldly under his helmet as he stood with the assembled ADVENT military several miles from the Iranian capital. Whatever happened now to the Iranians…they would have brought it completely down on themselves. Offers of surrender had been sent multiple times, and all had either been rejected or ignored.

Ivan had stated privately to all ranking officers under his command that they would not accept surrenders offered from any hostile soldiers or officers. A message needed to be sent loud and clear to the surrounding regions, and if the bombardment of a city wouldn’t elicit their compliance, then there was little point in trying to save them.

“[Anything?]” Roman asked Maksim, who was looking through his sniper rifle.

“[No,]” he answered. “[At least, nothing we’re not expecting.]” A snort. “[These people learned nothing.]”

“[I doubt that,]” Galina interrupted, once more recalibrating the gauss cannon that had been issued to her. “[They just have nothing that can stop us.]”

“[On that we agree,]” Roman nodded, looking around at the assembled forces, and raising an eyebrow as a dozen shiny trucks pulled up and several Officers began going over and unlatching the backs. “[Looks like we’ve got some more backup.]”

“[What more do we need, actually?]” Konstantin asked sarcastically. “[An XCOM unit?]”

Roman watched the trucks curiously and sucked in his breath as he saw what stepped out. “[Hey, do you remember that rumor about the Americans building some kind of robotic war machine…?]” He jerked a thumb over to the trucks. “[Because it looks like ADVENT took it over.]”

The robots stood at least ten feet high, maybe more. They were a sandblasted tan, but shiny as if just off a production line. Their entire structure was streamlined and practical from the legs to the torso to the three-fingered hands that held a weapon that was almost as big as him, with a glowing red power source. The robot had no eyes on its head, which appeared to be an angular chunk of metal with a black strip down the middle. To top it off, there appeared to be some kind of missile system attached to the back.

“[Wow,]” Elena whistled. “[Those look _really_ good.]”

Roman did a quick count of the war machines as they stomped over to the front lines and the soldiers quickly made room. Thirty? Forty? It was enough to cause some serious trouble at a minimum with them alone. _“[Squads load into your designated transports,]”_ Ivan’s voice suddenly transmitted. _“[Suppressive bombardment will begin commencement now.]”_

Roman nodded. “[Load up!]” He ordered his squad and they joined the dozens of others who made their way to the transports as the missile trucks artillery began firing at the city. “Suppressive bombardment” largely meant _bombing the city_ until the ground forces arrived. It would only target the outskirts and clear defensive encampments. They wanted the city largely intact, and at this point had figured out that Iranian weapons simply couldn’t stop them.

 _“[To all forces,]”_ Ivan continued as they got situated. Maksim took the open position so he could shoot as they rode up. _“[ADVENT has been kind enough to provide us with their newest weapon, mechanized defense units, or MDUs. They are using this as a field test, and simulations seem to indicate they will be a large asset. Do not attempt to hinder them in any way, as ADVENT Engineering made it very clear their programming was not to be tampered with. Good luck, and let’s end the war here.]”_

“[So stay away from the machines of death,]” Anton muttered, checking his rifle. “[Got it.]”

“[It’s actually a smart field test,]” Elena chimed in as the transport jolted as it sped towards the city. “[These conditions are terrible for machines like that. If it can work well here, it would probably work well anywhere.]”

Stanislav grunted. “[We’ll see. I don’t want that thing to shoot me because of some bad programming. Don’t trust machines like that, especially ones with rocket launchers.]”

“[We’re coming up,]” Maksim informed after a few minutes. “[Initial bombardment seems to have worked well. The MDUs are pretty fast too. No defender response so far.]”

“[I would have thought they would have had some artillery or defenses,]” Elena said as the transport slowed down. “[Seems odd to have nothing.]”

“[Oh, they did,]” Roman shrugged. “[They did this in the night, so I guess you wouldn’t have heard. They baited all the defenses they had by launching dummy missiles into the city. They just repeated until there was nothing. Their supply is cut off, so they couldn’t restock at all, let alone in time.]”

The transport slammed to a stop. “[Deploy!]” Roman ordered and they charged out into the defensive lines of Iranian soldiers. An entire row of buildings had been reduced to nothing and the Iranians were shouting and screaming at each other in a panic. Roman raised his rifle to fire-and never got a chance to fire as six red beams screamed past him within seconds, each hitting a soldier in the head.

He looked over to see one of the MDUs continue charging forward, continuing to fire beams of light that only lasted milliseconds, but were direct hits each and every time. _Nothing_ was spared from the machines as they shot anything that moved. Roman winced as it shot two civilians who were trying to flee from the machine of death.

Konstantin swallowed. “[Shit.]”

“[Follow me,]” Roman ordered, ignoring the words but echoing the sentiment. Those machines seemed to be even more deadly than even he had anticipated. He was wondering if there would even be anything left for them to kill, so he decided to take the path that the MDU had not gone down. “[Right.]” He ordered and they marched down the street, past the sand-blasted buildings and empty shops.

“[Incoming,]” Maksim stated calmly as they spotted an encampment of a dozen Iranian soldiers who were taking cover behind improvised cover and crates. They shouted in Persian, and opened fire with their conventional rifles.

“[Cover,]” Roman almost sighed as they fell into their own cover behind buildings, inside houses and behind crates of their own. He activated his shields and firmly entrenched himself before he rose and took aim. A few bullets were redirected away and he responded by firing at two behind a crate and both fell back, their bodies riddled with bullets.

He swung to aim at one who was hiding behind the corner of a building and fired at it relentlessly, eventually piercing the corner and subsequently the soldier himself who fell to the ground with a scream. Maksim shot one in the head who was hiding behind a car; Konstantin and Galina had reduced another crate to splinters with their gauss cannons, and the body behind it was a bloody pulp.

With only three left, Roman motioned his gunners to suppress them while he moved up in the open. Truthfully, he was tired of this and wanted this pointless war over with. Stanislav and Elena were close behind him as he charged the remaining soldiers who were too afraid to point their heads out. “[Cease!]” Roman called as the line was reached.

One soldier opened his mouth in terror before Stanislav blew it into chunks; Elena executed another one behind a car, filling the torso with bloody holes while Roman finished off yet one more with a shot to the knee, and then head in quick succession. “[Clear,]” he grunted as he noticed one of the soldiers was still breathing, but leaned up against a building, blood staining the wall and sand around him. He was breathing heavily, a hand over his fatal wounds. His eyes met the faceless mask of Roman, pleading for help, or simply mercy.

Roman only shot him in the head.

He ignored the sigh from Elena as he turned to survey the area. He walked through the corpses, making sure all of them were dead. “[Woah!]” Galina called out as she was hit in the head with a frying pan from a hysterical woman who was screaming incoherently, and had apparently come out of nowhere.

Great. Exactly what he _didn’t_ want to do. But orders were very clear. “[Take her out,]” he growled distastefully as he looked at the minimap in his HUD. “[We need to keep moving.]”

“[One second,]” Galina answered and swung her gauss cannon sharply up, hitting the woman in the chin with a sharp crack and sending her sprawling to the ground. Blood trickling out of her mouth, Galina lowered her weapon and fired a short burst of gauss rounds, killing her instantly. “[Ready to go, Shieldbearer.]”

“[Sorry that happened,]” he said as they kept moving. As irritating as civilians were, he disliked killing them.

“[Not your fault,]” Galina shrugged, taking the position beside him. “[Only an idiot decides attacking heavily armed soldiers is a good idea.]”

“[Or a hysterical wife whose husband was killed,]” Elena muttered. “[But hey, what do I know?]”

“[We have our orders,]” Roman reminded her, shooting a glance at Elena. “[Like them or not, we have to follow them.]” He returned his attention to the city streets, screams and the sounds of laser weapon discharge in the distance. “[And in the end, these people brought this upon themselves. Now they must bear the consequences.]”

No one said anything else as they made their way through the streets, killing the soldiers they came across, and the civilians soon fled into their homes at the sight of his team coming down the street. They were now learning their fear of ADVENT was well founded, and the stories of the faceless men in armor were true.

Fear was not necessarily a bad thing, Roman contemplated as he shot a terrified soldier in the back as he struggled to get into a house that had locked their doors.

It certainly made his job easier.

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Control, United States of America_

True to herself, Elizabeth liked to have multiple locations for her headquarters. While in EXALT, she’d restricted herself to only one for obvious reasons, but now that she was now in charge of multiple intelligence agencies, she was now coopting various ones to stage her operations. They largely coincided with where the operations were taking place themselves, and since America was where quite a few important events were taking place, Elizabeth had taken the former CIA headquarters in Langley as her current base of operations.

And now they stood in a small board room, with an oak table, empty chairs and bare walls. Nondescript, and that was how both of them liked it. “So what do you want to discuss first?” Elizabeth asked, consulting her tablet while pacing absentmindedly.

Saudia smiled, deciding to sit down in one of the chairs. “The Canadian Prime Minister.”

Elizabeth nodded and placed the tablet on the table and slid it over to her. “Jace Murphy, Prime Minister of Canada, New Democratic Party affiliation.” Saudia looked down at the tablet which showed a middle-aged man who looked inscrutable, but even from looking at the image his ice-blue eyes conveyed weariness. He didn’t appear that old either, and his neatly styled black hair had no touches of gray. She glanced down at the information accompanying the picture. Thirty-eight, yes, very young. Idealistic too, if his party affiliation was anything to go by.

“I know who he is,” Saudia said, looking back up at Elizabeth. “I need to know anything of importance. Like how he thinks.”

“How he thinks,” Elizabeth mused, continuing to pace as she thought. “As his party affiliation says, he is one of the New Democratic Party, who gained a _lot_ more influence after the War on Terror, and he pretty much took full advantage of the situation. He was the one who set up the system allowing Canada to take thousands of Muslim refugees from the war. He won the election with very little contest.”

“An idealist and a civilian,” Saudia sighed. “Such a wonderful combination.”

“Essentially,” Elizabeth continued. “Though he has personal reasons for being, ah, _anti-war_ , for lack of a better word. His sister died in the War on Terror. Nothing related to the Commander, thankfully, but pretty much made him work to abolish militarism throughout the government. Most of which was accepted, mind you, Canadians in general are a rather peaceful people.”

“I’m aware of the stereotype,” Saudia nodded. “And that means very little right now. What exactly did he do?”

“Well, military spending was drastically reduced,” Elizabeth began, ticking things off on her fingers. “Canada officially took a non-aggressive position in international politics, he filled his cabinet with people of similar ideologies-which means no former military or police, _including_ the people who work with said branches. Let’s see…what else? Oh, that also includes slashed funding for CSIS, which has led to, I’ve found out, _dangerous_ infiltration of United States, English, North Korean, and Chinese intelligence agents. At this point it’s really not fair to call the CSIS a _Canadian_ intelligence organization.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “I never bothered to really infiltrate Canada, since its usefulness was limited, but now I wish I’d taken an interest. In truth, Canada’s irrelevance is the only reason no one has acted, since it could be turned into a puppet state within a few decades with how shockingly _bad_ their security is.”

She trailed off. “Getting off topic. Ah, did I mention that this also includes _law_ _enforcement_ as well? Yes, law enforcement was also deemed ‘too militarized’ and drastically reformed. Crime isn’t exactly _bad_ , but it’s certainly reduced their effectiveness.”

“He’s got a lot done, I can respect that,” Saudia grudgingly admitted. “So then, I suppose the question is where all this money was put into?”

“About what you’d expect,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Military spending was put into government programs, largely those focused on education, welfare, anti-discrimination initiatives largely focused on Muslims, and police spending was put into rehabilitation centers and programs.”

“Well, they’ve got a head start there,” Saudia admitted. “The rehabilitation centers will be useful once Canada joins ADVENT. Saves us the trouble of building them.”

“Yeah, but we’ll have to do pretty much everything else,” Elizabeth chuckled. “You should have seen Stein’s face when I told her about it. I really bet she’s hoping you’ll enact Section 9.8.”

“She’s going to be disappointed,” Saudia answered, lacing her fingers together. “Annexation is _not_ the correct solution now.”

“Anyway,” Elizabeth continued, pausing to face her. “That’s who you’re dealing with. He more or less holds the exact opposite values we have, or at the very minimum opposes the ones that matter. He doesn’t seem the type to be intimidated, and my information on him suggests that he is suspicious of you personally. He does not trust you, he does not like ADVENT, and he _especially_ dislikes XCOM.”

“Of course he does,” Saudia muttered. “He would know the Commander is in charge of XCOM. That’s only going to make things harder. Do we have anything we can use on him?”

“Not anything useful,” Elizabeth scowled. “The problem is that he’s one of the rare politicians that actually believes the stuff he says. He’s not taken bribes or favors from anyone, his inner circle is completely behind him, and his private life is clean. Single, actually. Currently dating some nice lady in Quebec who’s just as clean as he is.”

“I never thought that would make me disappointed,” Saudia said, shaking her head. “But no matter. I don’t need Canada to join ADVENT right now, and trust or no, this man doesn’t strike me as an idiot. He has to know the aliens are dangerous, and well worth bending his precious ethics to allow some foreign soldiers through his country.”

“Well, I want you to press him on both the aliens and ADVENT,” Elizabeth stated, looking her in the eyes. “I’m having my agents bug the places where your meeting is likely to take place, and the CSIS is too compromised to find them in time. If his views are… _problematic_ , I want audio.”

Saudia curled her lips up. “Rest assured I plan to press him as hard as I can. Now,” she motioned to the tablet, “Oceania.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth nodded quickly, picking up the tablet. “I believe we should be sending more support down there. At the very least we need to keep the resistance groups there well-supplied. They’re actually doing quite well, and deserve our support. The longer we can tie the aliens up there, the more we have to prepare for when they hit next.”

“Granted,” Saudia nodded. She really didn’t see any reason to refuse to supply the ones fighting down there. “How goes Japan?”

“The aliens have set up laser-based AA weapons, denying airstrikes,” Elizabeth updated. “However, we’re keeping them pinned in their city. They’re under constant bombardment day and night, but my agents have reported that it looks like they’re building gateways. At least three, possibly as many as six. But I don’t think they’re planning to attack anytime soon.”

“Or maybe that’s what they want us to think,” Saudia said, rubbing her forehead. “The last thing we would expect or want is another attack in Japan.”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth admitted. “But I’ve got some failsafes in place. They won’t be able to suddenly spew out soldiers through the gateways without us noticing, or fly across the ocean without being detected. Just in case though, I’ve got my agents setting up small tactical nukes in the city itself. Enough to wipe it off the map if they try something.”

Saudia winced. “The Japanese will _love_ that.”

“Too bad,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Better a small irradiated patch of land than an alien army.”

“In agreement there,” Saudia nodded. “Thanks for the update, Director. Now,” she stood, “I believe Hassan wants to discuss the good Prime Minister with me himself before I go off to see him. Perhaps he’ll have a good way to handle him.”

“If you want my advice, Saudia,” Elizabeth said as she left, “Be your charming self. That is, make sure he knows just who really is in charge.”

Saudia gave her an emotionless smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Director Falka. Thank you.” Then she left Elizabeth to continue her work, while she prepared for the first major diplomatic meeting between ADVENT and a foreign nation.

***

_Outskirts of Cochabamba, Bolivia_

Jaylin wasn’t sure what to expect when she’d arrived in Brazil and was immediately transferred to some city in Bolivia. But she hadn’t expected a _military camp_.

Because that was essentially what this was. A repurposed military camp from the former Bolivian army most likely, now converted for not only ADVENT Military activity, but specifically for the _Peacekeepers_. She swallowed. Oh boy, when the public found out that the Peacekeepers had legitimate military bases, they were going to _flip out_.

She adjusted her gauntlet as she walked through the base towards where the barracks supposedly were. She had to admire how smoothly everything seemed to be running. Everything was organized, black armored transports were lined up neatly. In the distance Peacekeepers were shooting their weapons at targets and there was also a training ring for Riot Control to practice with their batons.

She pulled her own out and looked down at it. Might be a good idea to become a little more familiar with it, since she figured she might need to use it in a couple of days. Or hours, depending on how things went. Everyone had been tight-lipped about what was actually going on beyond that Brazil had invaded Bolivia, Paraguay, and Peru last she’d heard, supposedly in retaliation for supporting criminal activity in the country.

Jaylin shrugged and slid her baton back into the holster on her leg. From what she’d read, Marshal Luana was something of a warmongering tyrant obsessed by power. A fanatic of sorts too, given how liberal she’d been in utilizing her military to both keep the population in check and hunt down anyone who broke the law.

She smirked. And all accounts were saying that was probably going to change since the Chief of Peacekeeper Operations herself had _also_ come down to Brazil, likely to put the Marshal in her place. And now the Peacekeepers were left with three countries who were no doubt angry at Brazil and likely to cause… _issues_.

The door slid open as she walked inside the barracks and to her own bed. It was plain, but didn’t look too bad with a footlocker at the end and a cabinet at the head which she presumed was specifically for putting her armor in. She placed her helmet inside and began removing the various pieces of her armor.

“Officer Tanika, correct?” A voice asked.

She glanced up to see a man walk up, also decked out in riot control armor, helmet tucked under his arm. She kept herself seated as he raised a hand, indicating her to remain sitting. Informal then, she could do that. He had what she would call a ‘weathered’ face that also bore some pale scars on his forehead and his shaved head gave the appearance of a hardened veteran. Possibly military then. Based on this place, she wouldn’t be surprised.

“Yes, sir,” she answered with a nod, not sure who he was.

The left corner of his lip curled up in not-quite a smile. “I’m Charlie Vasir, Chief of this division of Riot Control,” he took a seat on the opposite cot. “Now that you’re here, you should be appraised of the current situation.”

Jaylin nodded, giving him her full attention. “I’m listening.”

“Good,” he began, lacing his fingers together. “The good news is that Bolivia is completely under ADVENT control militarily. The population, however, is not. Over the next couple of days we are expecting massive riots to break out in the capital. It will be under the guise of ‘protest’, but they will devolve into riots nonetheless.”

She frowned. “Can they not be stopped ahead of time?”

Vasir gave her a cold smile. “Of course we are, but the law is very clear: We can only investigate if they clearly show an intention towards violence. Very few have done that on social media and elsewhere. The majority are likely not intending for things to deteriorate so fast, but many are angry, and will see an opportunity to join in any chaos that follows.”

Jaylin gave one nod. “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”

“A good outlook to take,” he chuckled, the sound odd coming from him. “But essentially. If all they truly want is to protest, than we will allow that, as it is permitted by law. However, if it deteriorates they need to be put down quickly.”

“And how many are you expecting?” Jaylin asked slowly.

“A minimum of a hundred thousand,” he answered. “Probably more. I would practice with all your weapons, because if something goes bad, people are going to need to be stopped by the hundreds.” He eyed her coldly. “I trust that won’t be a problem.”

It wasn’t a question. “No sir,” she confirmed. “They break the law, they feel the consequences.”

“Exactly,” he nodded approvingly. “We’re letting it leak that Chief Stein is going to be there as well. Her reputation may make some of them think twice.”

Jaylin started. “Chief Stein is going to be there?”

“She said she would join after she finished up something in Brazil,” he answered. “I imagine she wants to ‘set the tone’ as it were.”

She almost shivered. From some additional research on the new Chief, she figured that was probably a good idea. That woman made the Commander almost look tolerant in comparison and there was no way Stein would be quite as understanding about the situation these people were in. “Let’s hope it doesn’t get ugly.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for,” he agreed, standing back up. “But not what we’re expecting.” He gave her a slight smile. “Glad to finally welcome you to the Peacekeepers properly, Officer Tanika. I think you’ll fit in well here.”

And he left her there, wondering just what she was now caught up in. She had a bad feeling about the coming days, and what concerned her was that from the sounds of things, Stein already had a plan for putting down any riots, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

***

_Tehran, Iran_

It was less of a battle and more of a massacre, judging from the piles of corpses that littered the city. Most of it largely came from the MDUs which had supposedly surpassed all expectations. Roman was half-convinced that they alone could have taken the city, but in really didn’t matter any longer. Tehran was captured, the Iranian army finally broken, and they could move on to the next country.

The Peacekeepers had arrived after the hostile leadership had been subdued, and he’d personally witnessed them being led, sometimes dragged, away in cuffs. Roman didn’t know what would happen to them, and personally didn’t care. Given how they’d repeatedly refused surrender and as enemies of the state, he was fairly certain they would be executed.

Sitting on his cot, cleaning off his armor, he couldn’t really muster up much pity for them, or anyone else here for that matter. He was just glad this battle was done, yet the war wasn’t nearly over yet. There were still quite a few more countries to deal with, but now that Iran had fallen in such a public fashion, perhaps it would make it easier.

He pursed his lips as he set his gauntlet into his locker. Unfortunately that likely wouldn’t be the case. These people were too prideful to willingly surrender. They would fight to the bitter end, and they would die believing that they would be rewarded in the afterlife; justified in their stupidity. He snorted. Fools, anyone who believed in a god with the state the world was in now was deluded. Unless said god had a sick sense of humor, which given what he knew about some of them, wouldn’t actually be that far-fetched.

“[Not celebrating our victory?]” Elena asked him, walking up. Like him she was dressed in plain black military fatigues and boots. She didn’t seem to have completely cleaned up yet either judging from the pale blonde hair plastered to her forehead, and the smudges of dirt on her pale skin. He imagined he looked similar, truth be told.

“[No,]” Roman told her, setting the armor piece he was cleaning to the side. “[Don’t feel like getting drunk tonight.]”

She snorted. “[Some Russian you are. But yeah, I get it,]” she grabbed a cheap plastic chair and set it opposite him, a foot or so away. “[Doesn’t seem very appropriate, which is why I’m hanging back as well.]”

Roman looked at her for a minute. She looked very tired, both tired and _concerned_ , and given her overall attitude ever since Zanjan had been taken, he was wondering if today was going to be the day they’d have the talk. “[Do you want to punch me?]”

She started, eyes widening in surprise. “[What? No! Why?]”

He let a mirthless chuckle. “[I wouldn’t completely blame you if you said yes. But I’m not blind, Elena, I know you’ve had…issues…with some of the things we’ve done, that _I’ve_ ordered. Figured it was only a matter of time before you wanted to let it out,]” he shrugged. “[So shoot.]”

She bit her lip, thinking carefully. “[I don’t blame you, if you were wondering. We have orders. We follow them. I just would like you to answer a question…]” she paused, then took a breath. “[Do you enjoy it?]”

He raised an eyebrow. “[Enjoy what? Killing? Not especially, I don’t see a reason to take pleasure from killing defenseless people…]” he trailed off, sighing as she no doubt wanted to know how he could so easily carry out orders which killed supposed innocent people. “[The truth is, Elena, I don’t care.]”

She frowned. “[About what?]”

“[Any of this, really,]” he admitted. “[This entire war is meaningless, pointless for both sides and started by idiots. I hate this place, and I’m tired of killing people fanatical enough to die for an idiotic government. I’m tired of always being on my guard for some suicide bomber or assassin with a death wish. I’m tired of walking through these people wondering which one wants to kill me. So _I don’t care_ anymore.]”

He waved a hand absentmindedly. “[These people _don’t_ _matter_ to me. I don’t see a reason to care if five hundred die or five thousand. _It doesn’t matter_. At the end of the day _nothing_ will change. ADVENT will take the city and the world will go on. Is the world going to stop if I execute a wounded soldiers or shoot a grieving woman trying to attack me? No, because the world has changed. There isn’t a reason to hold back, there isn’t a reason to give them any consideration they don’t deserve.]”

His voice was growing bitter, but he didn’t stop. “[I want this over, Elena. The aliens are something I care about, but right now we’re stuck here. So I focus on ending this war quickly and permanently. More efficient to kill people instead of capture them, saves time and manpower that could be spent elsewhere. I don’t really enjoy it, Elena, but I don’t care enough to do anything more for anyone here. They could have fled, they didn’t. They could have stayed out of our way, they didn’t. It’s selfish and heartless, yeah, but I can’t bring myself to care enough to change it.]” He looked up at her. “[That answer your question?]”

He couldn’t read the expression on her face, but she gave a small nod. “[I…think so. I get it, sort of…]” she sighed and looked away. “[But I guess we have different outlooks. I was taught life was to be valued and protected. I joined to protect our citizens from danger, and that’s why this is…troubling to me. Would an enemy be justified if they did this to Russian civilians?]”

“[I suppose it’s a matter of perspective,]” Roman sighed. “[You probably had a happy upbringing, parents that loved you, friends and so on,]” he paused. “[Not me, sadly, my parents were leaders in a rather nasty criminal organization. Harsh, cultured and violent. From the day I was born I was being groomed to be their successor. I killed my first man at fourteen. Don’t regret it, man was a serial rapist who had the misfortune to owe a debt to my family, but I did. Became very acquainted with death over the years.]”

He gave a slight smile at her surprised face. “[It’s not something I tell people often. But the result is I don’t have the same sanctity of life you hold. If there is one thing I learned from my parents, it’s that life is disposable and replaceable. If half the population was to suddenly die, in the end it would mean nothing because more would just take their place. Very few are worth caring about to actually actively protect. I might not like it, but in the grand scheme of things, the lives of those opposed to us, in any position, are worthless.]”

“[I didn’t know,]” she said in a small voice. “[How did you…]”

“[Join up?]” He finished. “[Well, to be honest, because I didn’t see the purpose in running a criminal organization. I didn’t care about wealth, power or anything like that. I needed a _purpose_ beyond simply extorting people for money. Criminals don’t help people. They don’t make things better. So one night, my eighteenth birthday I believe, I killed the leadership, including my parents. They’d never shown any affection towards me, and so I returned the favor. I had been in contact with the police and brought them down upon the organization, killing it for good. Afterwards I joined the Russian military. Protecting my homeland was something I could care about, and it turned out they had use for me. Some years later, here I am.]”

“[Oh,]” she said, leaning forward. “[I…see. Thank you for telling me, Roman. I think I understand you a little better now.]”

“[That’s all I ask,]” he said. “[This won’t cause problems?]”

She cocked her head and stood, an unreadable expression on her face. “[No, it won’t. And I’ve changed my mind, I think I do need some kind of drink now. You know where Galina went?]”

His lips curled into a grin. “[One of the bars close to the city square. Don’t know which one, sorry.]”

“[Thanks anyway,]” she shrugged, offering a small smile to him. “[I’ll see you later then.]”

She walked away and left him alone once again. He grunted and returned to cleaning his gear, sighing when a familiar voice interrupted him once again. “[She took that story rather well. Couldn’t really tell what she was thinking.]”

“[Eavesdropping jerk,]” Roman muttered as Maksim walked up from behind him, a smile on his face. “[Should have expected as much. Besides, I told you that before.]”

“[Yeah, true, but the context was a little different,]” he answered, smirking as he leaned against the bunk. “[If I recall, I was asking how you could kill people so easily. It was a _compliment_. Not whatever that was.]”

“[Fair enough,]” Roman said as he finished another piece. “[But I agree, she didn’t really react as strongly as I expected.]”

“[Hm, yeah, I wonder why that could be,]” Maksim said, with a tinge of sarcasm. “[Come on. I’ll give you a prize for the top three guesses-]”

“[ _No_ ,]” Roman interrupted with a sigh. “[I’m _very_ sure it’s not anything like that. Besides, I’m not exactly an enticing person.]”

“[Oh, don’t see yourself short,]” Maksim commented. “[But for now, I agree. Not yet, anyway, but any woman who hears that story and doesn’t run off in terror is someone who’s at least interested enough to find out more. Besides, there’s some women who like taking on broken people like you. They like to ‘fix’ them.]”

Roman sniffed. “[‘Broken’ is not exactly how I would describe myself.]”

“[I agree, but really, think about it,]” Maksim continued humorously. “[Former criminal prodigy turns good, kills his family, joins the military and doesn’t care about much because of his messed up childhood. You, my friend, are a cheap romance novel waiting to happen.]”

Roman groaned, wishing he would shut up. “[Perhaps I _do_ need a drink. And you need one as well from saying all that crap.]”

“[Hey, I’m heading there anyway,]” Maksim shrugged. “[And you’ve been cleaning that damn suit for too long. Take a break and have some fun.]”

“[Appreciated, but I’ll pass,]” Roman said, returning to work. “[I think I’ve had enough social interaction for the night.]”

“[Suit yourself,]” Maksim said with a wave. “[I’ll tell Elena you said hi if I see her.]”

Roman narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Knowing Maksim, he was tempted to follow to stop him from saying something stupid. But no, with any luck Elena would punch him in the face if he made any suggestions. With that amusing thought in his mind, he decided to finish this up and go to bed. Tomorrow would probably be another busy day.

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

Aegis was not exactly gloating, but the impression that the Commander got from him that he practically emanated was _I told you so._ Luckily he hadn’t made any comments, but this warranted a full meeting of the Internal Council. All of them were standing around the holotable, he was flanked by Patricia and Vahlen; opposite him were Aegis and Shen, and on corresponding sides were Zhang and Jackson, respectively.

“We’re already up to date with how the offensive went,” the Commander began, sweeping his gaze over each of them. “So let’s not waste time and focus on fixing our issues. Vahlen, what did you find?”

She stepped forward, and plugged her tablet into the holotable and the holographic corpse of one of the Mutons appeared. “Your initial impression was correct, Patricia,” she began. “These Mutons were modified significantly. They were cybernetically modified to an invasive degree I did not expect. From what we were able to extract, it seems very possible that the Muton could be forced to obey very specific commands.”

“The technology itself appears to be a prototype,” Shen added, his face wrinkling in disgust. “It could certainly be improved and its sole function appears to be the negation of psionic abilities, but doesn’t make them more effective, if what you described is accurate, Patricia.”

“No, the psionic commands do disrupt their concentration,” Patricia confirmed, narrowing her eyes at the hologram. “With enough concentration, they can be driven insane. But it’s a disruption to my effectiveness either way.”

“Do you have a comment, Aegis?” Zhang asked, folding his arms.

“The implications are…concerning,” Aegis finally said. “The technology appears to be derived from the Andromedon Special Operators.”

“Did they use something similar?” The Commander asked.

“If the conversations I’ve had with them were accurate, they perfected this,” Aegis explained. “There was a reason Special Operators were banned, even by them. Even they have some lines they won’t cross, and cybernetic enslavement akin to your Manchurian Program was something they universally agreed was not to be supported.”

“But it’s apparently fine to apply to Mutons,” Jackson noted. “So a question: Could these Special Operators kill someone like Patricia?”

“Yes,” Aegis answered, with a tilt of his helm. “Without question. They would be completely immune to her attacks and Special Operators were some of the greatest threats during the Andromedon Union Wars.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “Then it’s only a matter of time before they start creating them again.”

“Not with the Battlemaster in charge,” Aegis said. “He won’t stoop to using assassins. However, if another Ethereal division joins, I cannot say the same. But I think even the Andromedons would be hesitant to authorize the creation of more Special Operators, even if allowed by the Imperator.”

“Special Operators or not, that doesn’t solve the biggest problem,” the Commander said, switching the hologram to an image of the Battlemaster. “ _This_ is now our priority.”

“And like I said in my report,” Aegis said, with a sigh. “You lack the weaponry to kill him. Your best chances are psions.”

“That is what Vahlen and Shen are for,” the Commander answered evenly. “The Battlemaster isn’t invincible, just difficult to kill.”

“Is the Battlemaster’s skin modifications the same as your own?” Vahlen asked.

“Slightly tougher,” Aegis answered. “But moderately so.”

Vahlen gave a single nod. “I’ll have to begin work to try and crack the Iron Skin mod, and subsequently fix any vulnerabilities in our own soldiers.”

“The problem I see is that almost all of our soldiers will be killed in seconds if they face him,” Jackson noted. “Even the Aegis armor won’t last long against his sword, or his telekinetics will end the battle just as fast. Maybe the Iron Skin soldiers could stand against him, but very few others.”

“Correct,” the Commander agreed. “Only genetically modified soldiers should be allowed to engage the Battlemaster. But it’s still the equivalent to a death sentence unless the goal is to hold him off.”

Shen raised a hand. “Actually, Commander, I might have a solution to this. One which may help us beyond handling the Battlemaster.” He turned to Aegis. “A question: can you create solid weapons out of pure psionic energy?”

The Commander raised an eyebrow at that request, and Aegis seemed similarly confused. “To an extent, Dr. Shen.” He extended a hand and a sword materialized in his hand, wisps of psionic energy floating off from the holographic blade. “If this is your idea, I do not see merit in it. It requires a degree of concentration your psions do not have, and it is not sharp.”

“That’s actually a good thing,” Shen nodded, picking up his own tablet. “And if I recall, you said the Battlemaster has his own form of honor.”

Aegis nodded. “Yes.”

“So if a soldier was to issue a…challenge, for lack of a better word, he would take it?” Shen continued.

“Likely,” Aegis nodded. “But at best it would delay him, especially since your soldiers are not equipped to deal with a Battlemaster, let alone _him_.”

“I’m not finished,” Shen continued. “If I also recall, Ethereals disliked using ranged weapons outside of psionics, yet it appears that the majority of the Ethereal Collective uses ranged weapons.”

“Yes, but only because most are incapable of wielding psionics,” Aegis confirmed, a confused note still in his voice. “Non-psions have few ways to negate ranged weapons, especially those who wish to utilize melee combat.”

“That’s all I needed,” Shen said, a satisfied smile on his face. “Now, ever since Aegis told me both about the Battlemaster and their history, I knew that we might need to develop countermeasures and started work on some preliminary projects to specifically deal with the Battlemaster.” He plugged in his tablet and a _very_ preliminary MEC design appeared, with much less detail than the previous ones.

What stood out about it was that it was much slimmer than the previous iterations, there were no additional weapon systems on it, but every part of it was securely armored. In the right hand it held a blade of some kind, and in the other it held a shield half as tall as itself. Specs displayed underneath showed it as just above twelve feet. “I present the Shinobi-class MEC,” Shen said, inclining his head. “A MEC specifically designed to counter the Battlemaster.”

“I’m impressed,” Zhang said. “You had the foresight to come up with this.”

“It will have to be worked on,” Shen amended. “But the concept is one that is solid.”

Jackson frowned. “The concept is good, yes, but in reality? That sword the Battlemaster has cuts through armor like butter. I’m not sure alien alloys will be much better.”

“I know,” Shen nodded. “Which is why the entire suit will have a MELD overlay which can be controlled by the pilot itself to either harden or repair. MELD is exceptionally tough, and if the suit can heal itself…”

“It won’t be able to be killed,” the Commander finished approvingly. “And without extra weight to slow it down, it might be fast enough to keep up with him.”

“Unless he does one of those charges,” Patricia noted. “Not even a MEC can keep track of something that fast.”

“I’m working on that,” Shen promised, looking to the Commander. “With your permission, I can begin devoting resources to this project.”

“Granted,” the Commander nodded. “You’ll have what you need.”

“Until that point, there was another idea I had,” Shen continued, replacing the MEC hologram with a sword. “Patricia, remember that discussion we had a few weeks ago?”

She blinked. “Yes, I do…” She smiled. “That would be perfect.”

The Commander turned to her. “Explain.”

“An idea Shen had,” Patricia explained. “Because the Battlemaster uses both melee combat and psionics, he was curious if our own soldiers could do the same. I told him in theory it was possible, but it would probably be a bad idea because they didn’t have the same protection Battlemasters had.”

The Commander got it. “But now with the Iron Skin modification…”

“Exactly,” Shen finished with a smile as he put the image of a streamlined sword on the holotable. “The swords I’ve conceptualized would work much the same way as the armor, strengthened with MELD nanites and would repair the blade it needed. Combined with a soldier with the Iron Skin, psionics…not many aliens would be able to stop them.”

“Ah, I see now,” Aegis nodded in revelation. “You want to assist in training your psions in swordsmanship in a way that won’t kill them. They would not hurt me with their weapons, nor I with mine. An intelligent plan, Dr. Shen.”

“That it is,” Zhang said with a rare, but cold smile. “Clever. To stop one Battlemaster, we make Battlemasters of our own.”

“I suppose I should get to work,” Patricia stated, a cold fire in her eyes. “The next time the Battlemaster shows up, I want to have a surprise for him.”

“I assume you already have some candidates for training?” Vahlen asked.

“Yes, I do,” Patricia said, shooting Aegis a look. “And today they’ll find out they’ve been selected for the Templar Program.”

“We’ve got work to do,” the Commander finished, clasping his hands behind his back. “Let’s get to it. We don’t know how much time we’ll have until the next attack. Dismissed.”

***

_Sucre, Bolivia_

Jaylin had never seen a crowd even remotely this big. Perhaps it was perspective, being in the city center in front of the capital building, but there were people as far as the eye could see, shouting in incomprehensible roars and waving signs with Spanish writing on them, which was pretty much useless against the mostly foreign Peacekeepers.

She did admit to feeling some slight intimidation at the sheer vitriol that was in the air, and it was almost enough to make her break her wide stance and bring up her riot shield. But she kept her hands clasped behind her back, tense as all hell as the people stood mere feet from her. She was rather glad she didn’t understand Spanish, because she was fairly certain that they were shouting some rather nasty things at her.

“ _How long is this supposed to last_?” Leon asked through their private channels, another American like her. “ _At some point they have to go home, right?”_

“Chief said he expected they would clear out within six hours,” Jaylin answered. “Provided nothing was started. How long has it been?”

A groan. _“Thirty minutes.”_

Jaylin smirked under her helmet. “Well, at least we can pass the time easier. You been here long?”

_“Nah, just transferred from Seattle. Good thing too, I guess.”_

Jaylin’s mood deteriorated at that. “I’m sorry. It’s…strange that America is under attack.”

She heard him exhale. _“Could have been worse, I guess. Seattle is still being fought for.”_

 _“At least you still have your country,”_ a new voice interrupted. _“Think ADVENT’s pretty much written Australia off for now.”_

“True,” Jaylin grimaced. “What’s your name?”

 _“Samantha Venator, a pleasure.”_ Huh, not that much of an accent. Jaylin was glad she’d clarified. The voice was surprisingly articulate and cultured. Not what she would have expected. _“How long do you think they’ll last?”_

“Before all hell breaks loose?” Jaylin asked, looking into the crowd. “Don’t see any obvious troublemakers yet. Maybe they haven’t shown up yet.”

Leon snorted. _“For their sake, I hope they don’t cause trouble. Stein will put them all down without a second thought.”_

Jaylin looked around the crowd, scanning it yet again. “Any of you seen where she went?”

 _“No,”_ Samantha said. _“Figured she’s in the capital building. Probably coordinating the various RC groups. If I’ve heard right, she had enough Peacekeepers to completely surround the protestors.”_

“What I expec-hold on, we might have trouble,” Jaylin scowled as a particularly angry group of people were heading her way. “Stay calm.” As she said that, she resisted the urge to pull out her ARC rifle with how close these people were, waving their arms dangerously close to her face. She switched her helmet modulator on. “I don’t speak Spanish,” she told them fruitlessly. “Se no habla espanol.”

She thought that was mostly correct. One of the men sneered, and suddenly Jaylin found herself on the receiving end of a pistol. The Peacekeepers reacted instantly and within seconds their ARC rifles were drawn and pointed in the crowd. Jaylin also saw a few other armed civilians also pointing weapons directly at Peacekeepers, and looked entirely unworried by the response.

 _“We’ve got a situation,”_ Leon was saying. _“Armed and threatening protesters. Respond. I think they’re trying to start a riot.”_

 _“I see. I am on my way.”_ Jaylin felt cold at the sheer lack of emotion from the voice of Stein.

“Stand down!” Jaylin shouted at them, and wondered how long she could hold them off. There were several people deep within the crowd, also armed and shouting stuff which was getting a rise out of them and it only became more heightened as the minutes ticked by. She switched again to her short range private link. “We need orders now. Fire now!”

“Do not worry, Officer Tanika,” Amalda Stein, Chief of Peacekeeper Operations, said as she walked up beside her. The woman was as chilling in person as her voice suggested. Her face was angular and hard as stone, and her green eyes held contempt for the people in front of her. Her graying hair was pulled back perfectly, not a strand out of place. The woman was clad in the armor of a Riot Control Officer, which essentially meant the addition of white shoulder cap on her right shoulder, and a gray variant of the Officer helm, which she was not wearing now.

At her side was a State Officer, who Jaylin assumed was a translator of sorts. At the nod of Stein, he adjusted something in his helmet and nodded to her. “Silence!” Stein roared, raising a fist at a ninety-degree angle. Her translator repeated what she had said, louder, but with nowhere the same intensity.

Something must have caught the attention of the man pointing the gun at her, and he called back and eventually everything was much quieter; the roar dimming to a constant murmur. Stein looked at the man with absolute contempt. “Tell him who I am, and ask what he is doing.”

The translator nodded and repeated what she asked. The man answered quickly. “He says he wants ADVENT to leave Bolivia or there will be ‘trouble’ as he puts it. He seems to think the mob can overwhelm us.”

Stein sniffed. “I will not entertain his delusions. Tell him to order the crowd to disperse and his armed thugs to surrender their weapons or we will deal with them.”

Jaylin hoped they actually would, but the man simply shook his head, and directed a string of Spanish toward Stein specifically. “He said no,” the translator said diplomatically.

“I gathered that,” Stein said with a dangerous and humorless smile, her eyes not leaving the man. “Address the crowd. Disperse or be arrested. Their right to peacefully protest has been temporarily revoked in light of armed interference. Let the record reflect this. Continued refusal will result in lethal and non-lethal responses.”

The translator nodded and shouted the orders to the crowd that was now getting riled up again. The agitators in the back were yelling again, and the situation appeared to be worsening. “I don’t think they’re listening,” the translator said. “Orders, Chief?”

Stein turned a knob on her helmet. “All local Peacekeeping forces, you are authorized to remove armed protestors by lethal force if necessary. Subdue all other participants with non-lethal measures. On my signal.”

Stein turned back to the man holding the pistol at Jaylin, and with no ceremony pulled out her pistol and blew his head into red chunks, splattering the people around him with blood. Within seconds the other armed protesters were either subdued or killed, and Stein put on her helmet and withdrew her baton. “On the ground!” She roared. “I will pursue the ones in the back, Christian! Rosaline! With me!”

Now all hell broke loose as Stein stormed into the crowd, flanked by her two officers and the people that didn’t immediately get the hell out of her way she smacked with baton. In _lethal_ mode. The rest of the crowd immediately broke into two groups. Stein’s translator had apparently shouted out the command to get on the ground, and a good portion of them did so, while the rest screamed and pushed against the line of Peacekeepers.

And they fell in droves as the bolts of electricity hit their defenseless bodies. Jaylin put down two people charging at her, and hit three more rushing Samantha. One had gotten close to Leon and he’d responded by smacking the butt of his ARC rifle in his face and following it up with a shock with his baton.

Even still, the now-rioting people knew better than to get in Stein’s way as there were a trail of bodies of the people who had been foolish enough to stop her. Stein finally caught up with one of the armed protester who decided to frantically, and stupidly, fire at her. Stein responded by slamming the baton into leg and pulled, ripping the flesh easily, and with blood now on the spikes, she slung the lethal baton into his neck and pulled, ripping out part of his neck and he fell to the ground, dead from the lethal voltage.

 _“Press forward,”_ Stein ordered calmly as she continued her hunt into the crowd who now fled or fell on the ground before her. _“Reinforcements are coming to arrest the offending citizens. Conscious people on the ground are not to be arrested.”_

With that the line of Riot Control advanced, still shooting blue bolts of electricity at those foolish enough to attack, and some were beginning to flee. Behind her, Jaylin noted a _large_ amount of State Officers who were pulling the unconscious bodies from the crowd behind them and handcuffing them. Jaylin shook her head at that, returning her focus to subduing this riot.

They were going to need a _lot_ more handcuffs by the time this was done.

***

_Ottawa, Canada_

“Right this way.”

Saudia followed the instructions of the guards and was soon escorted into a well-furnished, but isolated room in Parliament Hill. Nowhere public thankfully, and it appeared that the Prime Minister wanted to keep the meeting as low-key as she did. However, by now the Canadian media would know it was taking place and she wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with them when she left, as they would likely be impossible to ignore.

Bookshelves lined the walls, and there were several portraits of various people on the ends; an ornamented rug laid in the middle of the room, a short coffee table on top of it and there were two opposing couches, one of which held the Prime Minister of Canada himself. There were several files on the table, arranged in an orderly fashion, and Prime Minister Murphy was sipping some drink from a mug.

Upon hearing the door open, he rose and walked over to greet her. “Chancellor Vyandar,” he said, extending a hand. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

Saudia nodded, taking the hand and giving a firm shake. “The feeling is mutual, Prime Minister, though I wish the circumstances were better.”

His lips turned up in what appeared to be a sad smile. “I agree, while our administrations have disagreements, what is happening in America and around the world is a tragedy.” Saudia raised an eyebrow as that last addition, as she was fairly certain he wasn’t just talking about the aliens.

“I’m glad you agree,” she finally said. “And with that in mind, I hope that we can work something out to the benefit of both of our administrations, and the human race as a whole.”

“I hope the same,” he nodded, motioning her to take a seat on the couch opposite her. “Now, before we begin, do you want anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“Unnecessary,” Saudia dismissed with a wave. “I would prefer we get straight to business. Time is a luxury we can’t afford, and predicting where the aliens will strike next is…difficult.”

“I’d imagine so,” Murphy nodded, facing her seriously. “But it seems you do indeed prefer bluntness, so I will oblige and make this clear from the start: Canada will not join ADVENT.”

She nodded. It wasn’t unexpected. “Given your administration’s words towards my own, I am not surprised. With that said, I did not come to convince you to join us, but to request your assistance in pushing back the alien threat.”

He laced his fingers together. “Then what is this request?”

“The aliens have ignored your country,” Saudia began. “We’re not sure why, but they seem content to ignore you and press forward in America. This may change, it may not. But what _is_ for certain is that they have left themselves vulnerable to attacks from the north, specifically, Canada.”

He gave a short nod in agreement. “I was told the same. Attacks via the Canadian border would be far more effective than simple head-on attacks.”

Well, there was hope. “Exactly,” she confirmed. “Ultimately, what ADVENT and I request is simple: Permission to construct military bases near or on the border of Canada to facilitate quick surprise flanks on alien forces. With these in place, we will be able to both stall the alien advance, and damage them militarily. An additional bonus is should Canada come under attack, there would be forces on-site to immediately respond.”

He was silent for a few moments. “Why are bases necessary? Could you not just move through the border to your locations?”

Clearly not familiar with military or logistics. Saudia suppressed a sigh. “That is not recommended for several reasons, Prime Minister. We’re not talking about a small force of special forces, we’re talking thousands of soldiers, minimum. Simply marching an army across would be both a drain on resources, and certainly attract the attention of the aliens who may try and sabotage us beforehand. In addition, bases would allow us to gradually establish points so that no matter how deep the aliens penetrate, we will always be able to strike quickly. I do not plan to make this a simple gamble on one force alone. This is a war of both tactics and attrition, and since attrition is something I doubt we can match, our tactics must be smart, and superior.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “Let us say I agree. If you end up victorious in this war, what will happen afterwards? Will you leave?”

“Not immediately,” Saudia answered. “I suspect that by that time, Canada will have come under attack and more bases will need to be established to defend it. As Canada is still not a part of ADVENT at that time, bases will be decommissioned eventually, but not until we are sure that the last remnants of the aliens are destroyed.”

“I see,” Murphy leaned forward. “Then I’m afraid we have an issue. How do I know first, that ADVENT would actually leave, and second, that allowing you to do this won’t bring down the aliens upon my country?”

Saudia kept her tone even. “For your first question, because I’m telling you it will happen. The Advent Directive is very clear on respecting the territory of foreign nations, and failure to comply with that would likely lead to me being discharged at best.” She paused. “And I can offer no guarantees on the second. The aliens may take this as a provocation, but the truth, Prime Minister, is that you will not be able to ignore this war forever. Canada will come under attack eventually, and it is better to be prepared than caught unawares.”

“Then why, tell me, have we not been attacked?” He demanded.

“Again, we’re not sure,” Saudia sighed, keeping her exasperation to a minimum. “The most likely reason is because they don’t consider you a threat.”

He suddenly smiled. “And there I think you’ve hit a crucial point, Chancellor. We are _not_ a threat and that is by design. The aliens behind this aren’t brainless creatures. If they don’t see us as a threat, why would they choose to attack us? All it would do is rally more to attack them.”

“Prime Minister,” Saudia said calmly. “With all due respect, this is not a simple territorial dispute. An attack by these aliens on one country is one on all of humanity. Do you really think they will ignore Canada forever?”

“No, I do not,” he answered. “And there are only two ways this war can end: Your victory, or theirs. And I suspect they would be more merciful to a country that has not harmed them than one who was an active participant.”

Saudia blinked. “You would _surrender_ without even putting up a fight? Prime-“

“If that fight would needlessly get my people killed, yes,” he answered, a note of steel in his voice as he looked at her intently. “You may believe you can win this war. I am not so sure, and until I _am_ I do not want to throw my people away just to _die_.”

“I don’t think there is much of a choice in this matter,” Saudia answered, some frustration creeping into her voice. “Let us entertain the possibility of a surrender to the aliens. Do you know what that would _actually_ mean for your people?” She paused to let that sink in. “Humanity would become a subject species to the Ethereals, your people would be taken away, experimented on, killed. The rights your people enjoy would be curtailed beyond all measure. You would only work in service to the Ethereals. Free will means nothing to them. It is slavery in all but name, Prime Minister. _That_ is what you are choosing by refusing to take a side.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Saudia cut him off as she realized another point. “And I can safely say that the reason the aliens are ignoring you is _not_ just because you are a threat. Remember Germany? Remember China? Remember _Australia?_ The _United Nations_? What direct threat did _they_ pose?”

“They supported XCOM,” he shrugged, although sounding uncertain. “They helped the Commander wage war. The UN enabled him and perhaps they viewed that as a military target.”

“Canada supported XCOM if I recall,” Saudia retorted coolly. “So that point can be dismissed. No. The actions of the aliens seem to be unpredictable, and relying on their _mercy_ is as foolish as believing they don’t have plans for Canada.”

Murphy inhaled sharply. “Perhaps. Perhaps not, but truthfully, Chancellor, I am not sure you would be any better.”

Saudia stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard correctly,” he stated with a humorless smile. “And don’t act too surprised. I am not blind to what ADVENT is doing in the world. I know you are bombing cities in the Middle East, executing civilians just for getting in their way. I know you kidnap people in the middle of the night on terrorism and criminal charges and convict with no jury or trial. You execute military leaders with no due process. Your “Peacekeepers” fire on crowds of civilians for daring to protest having their country taken from them without any semblance of democratic process.”

He shook his head. “Your administration is little better than that of North Korea, Chancellor, although since they are a member of ADVENT, perhaps that isn’t surprising. Your administration is set up to trample anyone who dares question them, I’ve read your directive and it is terrifying. No one can enter a position of power without approval from the state, military leaders can order the indiscriminate killing of innocent civilians, and entire businesses can, and have been, taken over by your administration without any say in the matter.”

Saudia listened as he kept going on. “And this is not including the abhorrent people you have placed in positions of influence. Amalda Stein shouldn’t even be in charge of a unit, let alone the entire _Law enforcement_ , and that isn’t counting the war hawk Treduant, dictator Iseul Gwan and a list of people who I’ve never heard of before. And of course, the _Commander_ of XCOM.” The last words he practically spat out.

“You are a question mark, Chancellor,” he continued, eyeing her with open disdain. “I have no idea who you are or were and I am shocked that this isn’t terrifying anyone. I’ve attempted to come up with explanations as to where you come from, and each one is more worrying than the last. At best you are who you say you are, and someone in intelligence work as scrubbed as you should not be in such a position where millions of lives are at stake.”

He paused. “Or you lied and then the question is _how_ you could have possible become the de facto leader of what is now more or less the new United Nations. Either you are a puppet or…something else. Your Intelligence Director, your engineering and science heads, your own _husband_. These people have no pasts and appeared as though from thin air. I do not want to imagine the implications of that, but I have and I can’t stop thinking about them.”

He sipped from his mug. “I’ve met people like you, Chancellor, and all of them were all the same. They have a fundamental lack of _empathy_. They think people can be forced or molded into whatever they wish. They think they can place everyone into neat little boxes, and rely on fear and subjugation of force the rest in line. People, Chancellor, are _not like that_. They are unique, they are not set in stone, they can change. A woman like Stein believes that a personality is immutable, a person like _you_ is arrogant enough to believe that you know what people need better than themselves.”

He set his mug down. “On paper you have the semblance of a democracy, Chancellor, but in practice this is an elegant dictatorship. Authoritarianism with a delicacy I can’t help but admire in spite of how much it repels me. Your administration is the exact opposite of what is acceptable. It lacks empathy, it lacks freedom, it lacks _humanity_. It is potentially just as much of a threat to our species as the aliens themselves.”

His humorless smile vanished. “I was entertaining allowing your soldiers to pass through my country, but after this conversation I have decided against even that. Canada will not assist you in your fight against the aliens. We do not want, nor need your help. The aliens will be dealt with and _without_ your interference.”

Saudia was as still as a stone, and then took a breath. “I think, Prime Minister, that we have a fundamental difference regarding our views on humanity. You have faith in the common person, but I lost that faith long ago. People do _not_ know what is best for them. Some people even believe capitulating to an alien force is preferable to standing up for their ideals. Most people lack the _will_ to make difficult decisions, and then demonize the ones who make the world safe for everyone. Most people, Prime Minister, are easily manipulated and influenced by what they see around them. Media, celebrities, news, and even their own leaders.”

Her tone hardened. “I do not apologize for doing what must be done, Prime Minister. I do not apologize for putting the survival of humanity above the so-called _freedoms_ that have divided us for generations. I do not apologize for subduing a region that has been awash in death for decades. I do not apologize for distributing justice to people who _break the law_. You can call ADVENT harsh, heartless or without _humanity_ , as you so eloquently put it. But…” she suddenly smiled. “I do not particularly care. Because it. Is. _Working_. We have an _army_ capable of withstanding an extraterrestrial force. We have _peace_ between large portions of the world. We have _leaders_ who, while you might despise, are _professionals_. We _know_ what we are doing, Prime Minister, and I would be very careful openly declaring your intentions towards this war.”

“And why is that?” He demanded.

“Because, Prime Minister,” she answered smoothly. “ADVENT may not take action, but XCOM certainly would. You know what the Commander is capable of, and I believe if he heard what you just said to me, he would recommend your termination from your position. There are people who want me to authorize Section 9.8 of the Directive, Prime Minister.”

He stiffened at that. “I don’t want that, Prime Minister,” she continued coldly. “And I don’t believe that would be an appropriate course of action. But I would strongly reconsider your intentions towards the aliens, or at least keep them private. I will keep your words to myself out of respect for your position, but openly believing that capitulation to the aliens is possibly preferable will make enemies. And you do not want to make an enemy of ADVENT, and especially not XCOM.”

“Is this a threat?” He asked icily.

“No, it is not,” she shook her head. “It is a warning of what might happen. But understand that there are consequences to your actions, Prime Minister, and completely refusing to help will not endear you to those in my administration. I do want to come to some agreement, but perhaps next time it should be you that takes the initiative.” She stood. “I would strongly reconsider your position here, Prime Minister, but ultimately, you must decide. Good day, and remember that there is more at stake than just your country.”

Without waiting for a response she spun on a heel and marched to the door. Perhaps it was rude, but she didn’t see any reason to give any more consideration to someone who was arguably worse than a traitor. Ethan was waiting for her outside and immediately fell into step beside her as she marched past the Canadian guards.

“That bad?” Ethan muttered as they walked.

“An understatement,” Saudia muttered in return, keeping the fury in her voice controlled. “Let’s just say that the good Prime Minister just made a lot of new enemies.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 9: Relations with Foreign Nations

Subsection 9.1: Introduction

 _Purpose:_ ADVENT seeks to have efficient and mutually beneficial relationships with various foreign nations that do not seek to join ADVENT, assimilate those that do, and firmly and decisively deal with foreign nations that pose a danger to ADVENT itself and its citizens. This section will detail the exact requirements for a nation to be permitted into ADVENT, and responses to hostile economic, espionage, and military action from foreign nations.

It will also detail the requirements for an alliance or pact (Of any kind) between a foreign nation and ADVENT itself. ADVENT holds itself to a high standard, and expects the same out of those it works with the help ensure both parties are mutually prosperous. Not every country will meet these qualifications, either for an alliance or assimilation, but it will demonstrate which ones truly desire such and which ones do not.

ADVENT will also take appropriate action against foreign nations that take hostile actions of either an economic, espionage or military nature, and the response will vary depending on the size, scope and current damages of such an actions. Response may include sanctions, engineered collapse, or annexation. ADVENT will not tolerate a threat to its citizens or personnel.

Table of contents:

**Section 9.1:** Introduction

 **Section 9.2:** Requirements for Non-Assimilating Alliance

 **Section 9.3:** Qualifications for ADVENT Assimilation

 **Section 9.4:** Procedure for the addition of New ADVENT Member Nation               

 **Section 9.5:** Response to Hostile Economic Action               

 **Section 9.6:** Response to Hostile Military Activity               

 **Section 9.7:** Response to Hostile Espionage Activity               

 **Section 9.8:** Requirements for Annexation               

 **Section 9.9:** Treatment of Hostile Nation Prisoners


	12. Vitakar

 

_Vitakar, Intha_

Even if his time was unlikely to be quiet, Nartha was quite glad to be back on Vitakar. Earth had its charm, but it didn’t quite compare to his homeworld. Intha in particular was unlike most human cities. While Vitakarians didn’t build their cities _into_ the environment like the Dath’Haram, they did build their cities in a way that incorporated the natural landscape.

Intha had massive rolling hills and the city spread for miles around. An additional stark difference between Human and Vitakara architecture was that cities were _expansive_. Vitakara built their buildings _outward_ , not _upwards_. It wasn’t uncommon for ground to be excavated underneath if space was tight. The reason, Nartha believed, was probably due to the storm seasons when winds would reach lethal speeds. He imagined it hadn’t taken long after the first Vitakara skyscrapers collapsed when they decided they needed a better way to construct their buildings.

Besides, it seemed far safer in general. How Humans were fine with continuously working in those skyscrapers was something he didn’t quite grasp. He would never feel comfortable in one and it was worth the extra few minutes to get around without having to worry the building would collapse from a rather strong breeze.

Compared to some of the other Vitakarian cities, Intha was rather small. Only the Hangar had an internal transport system, whereas in a place such as the capital, almost every building in the city had their own internal transport. He supposed it wasn’t too different from Human elevators, but horizontally.

 _“Landed,”_ a pleasant female synthesized voice said. _“Please exit to the right.”_

Nartha unstrapped and stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder. The entirety of his belongings were rather small, and he wore simple civilian attire, a simple gray shirt, pants and boots. He was still wearing the black gloves from his Zararch uniform, no sense in leaving a trail when he could help it. He was glad he had decided for a more subdued approach on arriving. There weren’t many others in the transport with him.

There was a Dath’Haram, and a small family of Vitakarians who hadn’t paid him any attention, which would have doubtlessly happened had he advertised that he was Zararch. Probably had left to visit one of the colonies and were returning home.

Right, he stood in front of the door and waited for it to slide open. He needed to readjust to being among his own species again, and that meant using his position to the best of his ability. His family couldn’t know anything yet, and he couldn’t just _say_ what was actually happening. But the Zararch had establishments everywhere, and there would no doubt be details on suspected Nulorian activity…and dissident activity in the Aui’Vitakar.

The good news so far was that the Sectoid Virus was successfully distributed without any major issues, and with any luck should spread to a good portion of the species within several weeks and months. He’d sincerely wished that he’d thought of contaminating himself before even leaving, because he could have spread the virus to everyone in the Mars Observation Station, including the Zar’Chon himself. Well, not much could be done about that now, but the damage would hopefully be significant.

The door slid open and he walked out into the dark chrome room where checkpoints were constructed before exit transports. Standard procedure was to verify identity, and he walked over to one where a young Vitakarian female was sitting, operating her haptic monitoring board. “Welcome back,” she greeted with a smile, no doubt a standard way to put new arrivals at ease. He suppressed one of his own, because just from her facial movements and the artificial inflection in her tone, he knew she was also a Zararch agent. Unsurprising that they would be monitoring new arrivals.

“Here you go,” he interrupted before she could continue, handing over his ID. “Always a pleasure to encounter one of our own.”

“Ah,” her glowing eyes widened as she saw who he was. “Did you come back from the Mars Station?”

“Earth, actually,” he answered, taking his ID back. “However, I don’t think I’m permitted to reveal more.”

“Of course,” she nodded vigorously, clearing her throat. Definitely a Zararch agent, but a junior one at best. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“You can,” Nartha nodded, tapping his wrist-map and ejecting a small chip, which he handed to her. “I need locations on major locations in Intha. It’s been awhile since I’ve been back. If you have access to the Zararch database, I would also like current operational objectives, and of course, clearance to enter the local Zararch base, if that is possible.”

“I can give you clearance,” she said, typing at her station. “However all operations are restricted externally. I’m sorry.”

“Not an issue,” Nartha said with a nod. “I’ll be going there anyway.”

“Here you go,” she said after a moment, handing the chip back, which he inserted into his wrist-map. “Do you require anything else, agent?”

“Not currently,” he assured her. “Thank you for your assistance.” With a final nod, he walked through the checkpoint and consulted his wrist-map. Humans had made good steps in mobile devices and GPS, but they were still too crude. The Vitakara wrist-map slid smoothly over the arm, and had both a normal screen display and haptic projector for better visualization. Highly useful, but right now, he didn’t quite need it yet.

He was positive his family home was still in the same place, and he knew that all of them were going to be waiting to see him.

He sighed. It was going to be tricky to balance what he could and should say to them. The Zararch were doubtless monitoring the house since his father was part of the Aui’Vitakar, but that was just going to be yet another obstacle he had to work around.

Once the obligatory family meeting was over, he could actually begin his work.

***

_Blacksite 004 – ID: “Sanctuary” – Overseer: Sana’Ligna_

The Battlemaster looked over his blade, inspecting it for any noticeable flaws or chips in the metal. To date there had yet to be anything that did more than scratch it, but as it had been several decades since it had actually been put into action, ensuring that it indeed was as resilient as before was necessary.

In truth though, he knew perfectly well that the only metal that could damage his armor or sword came from the Dead World, and the idea that the Humans could find it, let alone _survive_ on the planet was absurd. Aegis only knew the planet by reputation, and didn’t even know about what the Imperator, the Creator, and Sana’Ligna _actually_ did there, let alone what the Battlemasters had done in the days of the Empire.

His chuckled in amusement. The Imperator had been wise to systematically cut Aegis out from the more sensitive projects of the Collective. A shame, in truth, but Aegis has proven the Imperator right and now couldn’t utterly cripple the Collective, even if he knew most of the Gateway network and had taken Sovereign-level technology to the humans.

Unfortunately, he was going to find much of it impossible to construct from materials found on Earth. Only the Gateways were possible, and even Fectorian and Revelean were still attempting to grasp the intricacies of Sovereign technology. The science was beyond him; he was a warrior and was perfectly content with that.

Times like this gave him the opportunity to reflect which was…refreshing…it had been too long since he had seen true combat, and during the battle, he was reminded of how rewarding it was to finally ply the trade which he had spent centuries honing. The Humans had been slaughtered easily, but the Battlemaster didn’t entirely fault them, not at first.

It was natural. Every species underestimated him until the fighting started, then they would either adapt, or die. He had been rather disappointed that the Commander had acted so predictably, and hadn’t sent an XCOM squad to face him. He doubted they would have stood more of a chance than the hapless ADVENT soldiers, but it would have been more interesting for sure.

The battle had indeed been a rout, but it wasn’t worthless and it did give some insight into how he could expect war to be waged against him significantly. It was unlikely the Commander would be so easily manipulated again, but it would also have the effect of him second-guessing himself, making him wonder if there were more traps hidden throughout the information and carnage. Perhaps it would not rattle him, but it would force him to think, and that was time he was not devoting to managing the battle himself.

The Battlemaster set the greatsword to the side and began to polish his helm, removing some of the dried blood from the crest. The various encounters his subordinates had with XCOM was telling, and gave him much to ponder. Patricia had been successfully negated, although J’Loran’s procedure with the Mutons was not foolproof. That being said, it had attracted Revelean’s attention, so it would likely be refined into something…manageable.

Both Disciple-7 and Irinena had said that the XCOM soldiers encountered were… _enhanced_. Based on the descriptions and reports, it was clearly genetic modification. The impenetrable skin was likely based on Aegis’ own, although the stinger appendages some of them had were more creative than he was expecting. It would be interesting to see if their Iron Skin could hold up to his own weapons.

A very useful piece of information was confirmation that, if pressed, XCOM and ADVENT would retreat, which was both good and bad. Good in that it would ultimately allow cities to be taken more easily, and bad in that it meant he was dealing with tacticians who were willing to pull back if it was clear they were losing, which doubtless implied they would certainly be developing technology to stop him.

It wasn’t a concern with ADVENT. There was very little they could do to develop weapons to use against him, short of nuclear weapons, and he always had the _Cultro_ observing overhead. The moment nuclear activity was detected, he would leave without hesitation while the Humans destroyed a city for nothing.

XCOM, on the other hand, was worth more consideration. It was only a matter of time until they began producing plasma weapons, and their psions reached a power threshold that might pose a threat. Still, such concerns were only valid if he was absolutely overwhelmed, else he would simply eliminate the threat the moment it appeared.

The haptic shield in front of his room dissipated and Chilis walked in, a neatly folded cape in her hands. As always, the Dath’Haram woman had a look of perpetual disapproval etched on her face, making those green eyes even more intimidating to the other aliens she interacted with. He personally found her demeanor amusing, even if others didn’t.

It was fortunate he’d been there when she’d not been as…respectful to Isomnum as he would have liked, and that Aegis had prevented his aura from affecting her. Had he not intervened, he suspected that Isomnum would have derived a great amount of pleasure tearing her mind to pieces and sending her to the Aui’Vitakar as a grim message in respect. He sniffed involuntarily. He viewed such as overly harsh. Ruling over mewling pawns was tiring and was something a good many of his kind had yet to learn.

Caelior, Macula, Isomnum, all of them seemed to think they were still in the Empire. Where they dealt with only equals and superiors daily and other species were lesser. He had thought so as well initially, but over time realized that was a flawed perspective. Objectively, an Ethereal was a superior being to most others, but taking into account the various personalities within the species…they weren’t radically different.

Andromedons, Vitakara, Humans, all of them had leaders, geniuses, prodigies and as many varied traits as Ethereals themselves. Dismissing them simply based on a lack of the Gift or genetic modification was not only a dangerous mistake, it was a foolish one. There was a reason he, Quisilia and even Sana and Fectorian had trusted alien subordinates, and it was a reason he was certain they would learn it themselves someday.

Not today, but if the war dragged on, they soon would.

If not then, when they subdued the inner-galactic species.

“I had forgotten how much of a mess you cause,” Chilis stated in her rasping baritone voice. “But I will say that it is good to actually do something useful for you.” She carefully placed the cape on the table where his helm rested.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to her. Even sitting, he was just as tall as her, a fact that he knew made her uncomfortable. Some part of her was always scared of him, and he could understand why.

She cocked her head. “So, was it everything you were hoping?”

“It was what I expected,” he answered, standing and starting to armor up again. “The Humans will be a worthy opponent. They fell easily, but it will not be so simple next time.”

“And XCOM ignored you, I guess,” she noted, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. “Disappointed?”

“Yes,” he said simply, attaching the cape to his shoulder armor. “But I am quite certain they’ll be there when I strike next. The Commander knows he cannot ignore me now.”

Chilis shrugged. “If you say so. Sana also told me she wants to speak to you now. Don’t ask me what about.”

The Battlemaster actually had a pretty good idea about what she wanted to discuss. “I will head there now,” he said, putting on his helmet. “Inform the Temple Ship that I have some matters to attend to before I arrive.”

She inclined her head. “Yes, Battlemaster.”

He swept past her and exited his room. Time to see what Sana was doing with the Humans he had recovered.

***

_Vitakar, Intha_

Nartha stood in front of his family home, a small and quaint cube in the housing district. He did have to admit that Humans did have better housing architecture overall, but simple cubes quartered off into sections were admittedly more stable, defendable, and easy to maintain. He placed a hand over the haptic display by the door and waited for a confirmation.

Hopefully they hadn’t taken him off the list of pre-approved visitors.

Luckily, it seemed that they hadn’t as it flashed blue and the door slid open with a chime. He stepped inside the immaculately clean house and looked around, wondering the best way to introduce himself when a familiar droll voice greeted him from the right. “Well, entering without an announcement. How very expected from a spy.”

He smirked and turned to her. “Cairu. I’m so happy to be able to listen to your sarcastic comments again.”

His sister chuckled. “So am I, no one else is quite as tolerant. Come here.” He dropped his bag by the door and embraced her. Once they let go, he actually got a good look at what she was wearing. “Runianarch? You actually joined?”

“Yes, a lot has happened since you’ve been gone,” she said proudly, straightening up and fiddling with the bars designating her rank as a Runianarch officer. “I actually went through with it, although I think that father didn’t exactly approve.”

Nartha nodded. His sister had always been fascinated by the events outside of Vitakar, and had seen the Runianarch as a way to explore beyond the homeworld, and had devoted herself fully to that goal. Looking at her now, he suspected that she’d been in intensive training for the past five years, since she was much taller and visibly stronger than him, traits that the Runianarch trainers were responsible for. Vitakarians in particular were viewed as excellent soldiers because of their adaptability, and his sister has no exception.

“Probably nothing like when I joined the Zararch,” Nartha shrugged, inclining his head. “Going to try for the Lurainian?”

Her smile dimmed. “I…don’t think so. Mostly for the same reason I didn’t consider the Zararch like you. Some of the things I’ve heard are…well, not for me, really. Besides, I feel more comfortable working just with the Aui’Vitakar. Don’t trust the Zar’Chon, no offense.”

Nartha smiled. “None taken. What’s your assignment?”

“Colony defense, so far,” she answered wistfully. “It’s great, especially since they continually rotate colony planets. Get to see a lot of new planets. However…” she trailed off, and fixed him with a stare. “There’s talk of moving more forces to fight the Humans…do you know…well, anything about that?”

“I think I’d rather save the discussion on the Humans for when everyone is here,” he told her. “But I’ve been on Earth. You’d probably love it.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened. “I’m more interested in the Humans. There isn’t much reliable information out there.”

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting. “Let’s find our parents, wherever they are. There’s a lot of catching up to do.”

***

_Blacksite 004 – ID: “Sanctuary” – Overseer: Sana’Ligna_

Warm white light bathed the half-clinic, half-laboratory Sana had control over, with much of it devoted to the former half. Her medics and scientists, all of whom were Vitakarians, were tending to the Humans, who were mostly all children. There had been a disgusting amount of practically abandoned children in the cities, and since they were clearly not missed, he had decided that they would fare better away from Earth.

Sana had been requesting younger humans for some time, and all the children processed from the Australian cities had been sent to Revelean and the Creator for…experiments, he supposed. Distasteful, but the Overmind had predictably overridden his request. He wasn’t opposed to the experimentation of other species…but he failed to see how experimenting on children actually achieved anything. They had yet to become fully developed, and thus it seemed a waste of time and resources except for professional curiosity.

At least none had gone to the Sectoids.

But to be fair, Sana was also going to run experiments on the children, but he could tolerate psychological and social engineering experiments because she very rarely killed or deliberately injured her subjects, especially children. Ironically, these children would likely lead a happier life than being forgotten on Earth.

He was slightly impressed at how curious the children were upon seeing him. He would have thought the sight of an alien four times taller than them would be…disquieting. It was likely the effect Sana emitted, which had been described to him once, since he would never be able to feel it. _Warm, comforting, protective;_ unsurprising since she had been a well-respected doctor back in the Empire.

With that said, she was a powerful psion in her own right and had her…other abilities.

He pursed his lips under the helmet and strode forward to where Sana’Ligna was speaking to one of her Vitakarian assistants. Unlike almost every other Ethereal, she lacked a helm of any kind and as one of the few non-military Ethereals, her form was slimmer than most, and she only wore a simple white robe similar to Sicarius, only with much less armor.

“Battlemaster,” she greeted warmly as he walked up, the soothing voice ringing in his ears with an irritating echo. “I must thank you again for bringing the children to me.”

“They were abandoned,” he stated simply. “They would be an unnecessary drain on resources in the captured cities, and you had mentioned needing more some time ago.”

“How practical,” Sana answered knowingly. “But both of us know they are no more a drain there than here. It’s touching, truly.”

“My motivations or reasons are irrelevant here,” he said flatly, ignoring the comment. “I brought them to you. Now I want to know how this will benefit us.”

“Of course,” she said, turning and gesturing him to follow. “This way.” He followed and she led him to a wall with a panel in front of it. “I am afraid that the results of my experiments will likely be of little value to you directly, but it will be necessary when we fully integrate the Humans into our Collective.”

“I suspected as much,” the Battlemaster nodded. Sana’s experiments were often less immediately usable, and longer term, largely focused on alien psychology and social attributes, although her contributions to their genetic upkeep and advances in medicine were certainly significant. But that wasn’t where her true interest lay; it never had.

Her interest was in the examination of other species, and how best to help them. Not _improve_ , but simply help.

The Battlemaster was continually fascinated why the Imperator had allowed such an… _idealist_ to survive the War. She was not unique among Ethereals back in the Empire, but here…she was different, and now a source of irritation to the more cynical and practical Ethereals still alive. Personally, she always offered a more refreshing perspective that was impossible to find anywhere else. A naïve perspective, but one he grudgingly wished was reality.

Unfortunately, reality was much harsher than Sana wanted to believe. It always had been, even in the Empire. The Overmind had informed him that the only reason the Ethereals had _ascended_ to a level free of infighting and weakness was through a war as bloody as any other species, and they had genetically enslaved the survivors to follow the conquerors. The history that had been taught was a lie meant to keep the peace and externally; it was no secret that entire species’ had been wiped out at even the slightest provocation.

Several by his own hand.

 But the truth was, he knew the real reason the Imperator had allowed Sana to survive. The only possible reason was her connection to the Dead Ethereal himself, and if she truly believed that the Imperator would not use him when it was warranted…she was lying to herself.

Brushing those thoughts away, he followed the self-proclaimed Healer into a seemingly empty room with frosted glass for walls and bathed in a much harsher white light. “I’m first running several experiments on human psychological reactions to various events,” she began, tapping a haptic panel on the wall, which cleared up the glass on one side to reveal a fake Human house, one which actually had a family inside right now seemingly going about their day without knowing they were being watched.

“There are two types of experiments being run,” Sana said, the orange fire of her eyes brightening as she continued. “Short term is reactions to sudden or traumatic events or news. Benign, mostly, all of these subjects have had their memories completely altered to make the scenarios work. For ordinary civilians captured I have generally limited the scenarios to non-physical. Receiving news that a family member died, losing a job, witnessing a suicide, traumatic and potentially life-threatening events.”

The Battlemaster suddenly wondered if his assumption that the children would be better off with Sana had been…premature. “Why?”

Sana sighed. “I can feel your disapproval. They are not being hurt, I assure you, but it is necessary. Human psychology is something I am still puzzling out. Mental illness is not something most Humans understand, and even fewer seem to want to fix. Thus, I must do the work myself. The techniques many Humans use are antiquated, and always have an unacceptable rate of failure.”

The Battlemaster nodded. It did make sense. “I don’t recall you doing this for the other species.”

“Because most are not as psychologically varied,” Sana explained. “Sectoids and Andromedons have a limited range of emotions, and almost no mental issues whatsoever. Vitakara eradicated their own mental illnesses long before we arrived. I have been forbidden from interfering with the Mutons, as you no doubt know,” her tone turned bitter at that. “Humans…they have not yet. They are as emotionally varied as the Vitakara and far more prone to violence. There are enough dangerous drugs and substances they can abuse and unfortunately, Humans often fight each other which raised a host of additional complications.”

“I see,” the Battlemaster gave a single nod. “You have your work cut out for you.”

“Yes, I do,” she agreed. “However, they will need to be solved if we are to successfully integrate them into the Collective. Which unfortunately includes some more…distasteful experiments that must be run if I am to fully understand Human psychology. The physical scenarios are more dangerous, domestic abuse, rape,” her nostrils flared. “How the Humans repeatedly allow this is sickening, but it must be observed. I will naturally be using the Human criminals you recovered from all the cities for these particular scenarios.”

Unfortunate, but he was slightly impressed that Sana would indeed go that far. Perhaps there were some ends that justified the means for her, even if even this wouldn’t hold a candle to something Revelean would run. Some of his experiments ran weeks, Sana would only have hers running a few hours at best, and keep them alive afterwards.

Revelean normally either killed the survivors or sent them to Isomnum for _practice_. The Battlemaster grimaced at that thought. Why the sadist felt the need to practice on Humans who literally went insane just being around him was beyond him. _Practicing_ implied challenge and improvement, and he had yet to see how practice on ordinary humans actually did either.

Oh no, he knew exactly why Isomnum _practiced_. It was a childish attempt to feel powerful and the Battlemaster sorely looked forward to when he was _actually_ challenged. Not enough to kill him, but certainly enough to make him realize that he wasn’t another Overmind or Imperator, let alone a _Battlemaster_.

“And what are the long-term experiments?” He asked, returning to the topic at hand.

“Twofold,” she answered, wringing her hands together. “The first involves placing Humans that are not related together in various configurations and observing any possible results. Some will have their memories altered to believe they have always been together, others have not. This is where some of the children will be useful, as I was only limited to adults before.”

Sana motioned behind her. “So for example, I would like to see if a Human male and female would raise a child differently if they knew it was theirs or not, or if they would eventually realize something is wrong despite the modified memories. The same thing with pairing a male and female together and making them believe they have been together even if they actually never met, would they care, or would they realize something is wrong? That is the first major series of experiments.”

She raised a hand that had a handheld holoprojector, which displayed a world he didn’t recognize. “Secondly, I want to allow some limited Human integration within the Collective. The Aui’Vitakar was kind enough to forward me plans for the establishment of a mostly Vitakarian colony, and I will be speaking to several of the applicants about their willingness to foster and raise Human children within it.”

The Battlemaster nodded. “I assume this has been cleared with the Imperator?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, shutting off the holoprojector. “He encouraged it, actually. I was…surprised, but pleased nonetheless. This will be extremely useful information in examining how Humans can be safely integrated into the Collective without major issues. If this experiment is successful, the next trial will be integrating families or adults into colonies and beyond that…” she trailed off. “Well, by that point, I would hope that the conflict is ended and we can begin preparations for the future.”

“I will attempt to make it so,” he promised, inclining his head. “But the Humans will not surrender willingly.”

Sana gave a sad sigh. “Why would they? We did attack them first.”

She was, unfortunately, correct. “Yes, we did. But the Imperator has his reasons.”

“I’m sure he does,” Sana sighed. “But sometimes I do wish he would say what those reasons were. Otherwise there seems to be little point to all of this. But there is little I can do about it, so I will attempt to help the Humans as best I can to adjust after you conquer them.”

“And I will end it as soon as I can,” he promised. “And should you need more Humans, be sure to inform me unless you want to give the Creator and Revelean more subjects.”

“I will,” she said, turning to the glass rooms of unwitting test subjects. “I’ll let you go, Battlemaster. Tell Revelean I said hello. Rub it in if you so feel like it.”

The Battlemaster smiled under his helmet as he turned to leave. “I will, Sana. Until next time.”

***

_Vitakar, Intha_

Despite his reservations, the evening with his family was very…relaxing.

His mother was as happy to see him as ever, which wasn’t surprising as she did her best to only focus on Vitakar and not pay attention to anything beyond that like the Zararch and Aui’Vitakar. Nartha found it interesting how she actually ended with a father who was a representative in the Aui’Vitakar, a son in the Zararch, and now a daughter in the Runianarch.

Nevertheless, much of the attention had been on him, and he found he was actually able to not reveal anything…sensitive just by speaking about the Humans and their culture. Privately, he wasn’t sure that the Zar’Chon would even approve of that, but Nartha would prefer they know that the Humans weren’t exactly primitive savages.

Violent, yes. Impulsive, yes. But not primitives. “I’ve seen the images,” Cairu said. “They look quite a bit like us. It’s a little strange.”

“A little,” Nartha agreed. “But it made it easier to blend in.”

“I’d imagine so,” his mother chuckled. “But I trust you were safe for the most part?”

Nartha thought back to all those times under XCOM, with plasma firing over his head and hid a smile while taking a sip of his water. Some things, like water, transcended species. “As safe as can be expected in the Zararch, Mother. It was never boring.” He shook his head. “Well, now I think it’s my turn for questions. What has happened on Vitakar recently?”

His father grunted. “Surprisingly little, at least compared to you. The Sar’Manda are as isolationist as ever, the Cobrarians are whining about their males migrating to other cities, the Borelians want to make our army even larger, the Dath’Haram are pushing for more investment in civil services, as _well_ as curbing the Borelians, and of course, the Oyariah just want everything to stay the same.”

Nartha nodded. Typical. “So everything is going the same as always.”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “…For the most part, yes.”

And _that_ was code for _I’ll tell you later._ Cairu and his mother were probably not cleared for high-level information the Aui’Vitakar had access to. Being one of the Zararch’s top agents, he was likely able to discuss events more…openly. Still though, he was curious.

“What is the response to the Humans?” He inquired. “Don’t tell me they don’t have an opinion.”

His father pursed his lips and rested his clasped hands on the marble table. “Let’s say that the Collective is keeping a very tight lid on anything regarding the Humans. We know their location, description and…several other factors. Simply put, we do not know enough about them to form a conclusive opinion. Most of what you just told me I had never heard before.”

Nartha blinked. “The Zararch didn’t share anything? I don’t believe it’s classified.”

“It isn’t,” his father shook his head. “Truthfully, the Human issue has…died down, until recently. The Andromedons have suddenly become a larger focal point.”

Cairu nodded. “I’ve heard some of the soldiers talking. Some of their ships came…close to our colonies. Which they shouldn’t have been allowed to do.”

“I suppose I’ll need to catch up on them,” Nartha said. “I’m not familiar with their species. Even in the Zararch they didn’t interfere much.”

“They generally don’t,” Cairu explained, a tinge of wistfulness in her voice. “I doubt any but the Elders truly know the whole story. They’re very isolationist, but powerful, if the rumors are true. They don’t let aliens go into their territory and don’t really seem to like any species other than their own.”

Hm. Yes, he’d definitely have to look into the Andromedons. Any species that wasn’t completely with the Collective may be something he could exploit. “Curious. What is the response?”

“Nothing, yet,” his father answered, taking a sip from his own water. “Supposedly they were chastised by the Zar’Chon or maybe an Ethereal. But that hasn’t really solved the issue. But recently that’s fallen to the wayside now that the Human planet has been invaded. The Ethereals personally getting involved is…of interest. The Battlemaster himself has called for the support of the Runianarch and Lurainian.”

“Right,” Cairu confirmed with a smile. “They apparently won a major battle a day ago. Everyone was talking about it. The word is that the Battlemaster _himself_ participated.”

Oh, that was bad. He winced at the thought of that particular Ethereal facing the Humans. “I almost feel bad for them.”

“Well, the good news is that it will be over quickly if that is the case,” his mother said. “But your father is as cynical as ever when it comes to the Aui’Vitakar. There have been a surge of _good_ things that have happened recently…”

He listened politely as his mother continued describing how the quality of life had improved significantly. Fourteen colonies had been successfully started, education standards were in the ninetieth percentile, science and engineering fields had grown by twenty percent and overall the entire species was doing well.

But the longer they talked, the more it sounded far too good to be true. A particular Human saying applied to this: “If it’s too good to be true, it probably is” and so he listened and asked questions of his own. What it revealed was that the Ethereals were truly insidious in their control.

The Aui’Vitakar were only representative of the Homeworld itself, and didn’t make decisions on intergalactic matters. All colonies were overseen and chosen by the Collective, and he knew from experience that the reason everyone was so…content…was thanks to the Zararch making sure those not in compliance with the Ethereals were removed, and more receptive leaders were installed.

He was well aware that not every Vitakarian conformed to, or was blind to the fact that this was a very elaborate gilded cage, but the Zararch was rarely public about such acts. People would disappear without fuss, and a cheerful explanation was provided if anyone else asked after them. Representatives themselves could vanish and a replacement appointed within the day.

Dissent certainly existed, but it was never given a chance to survive. With the exception of the Nulorian, no one who dared to ask very specific questions lived more than a week.

The good news was that this realization helped solidify the first steps he was going to take. As a Zararch agent himself, even on leave, he could assist in cases, and he would have access to the list of those under surveillance. And he formulated this plan in his mind while they continued chatting about irrelevant matters.

When the talking came to a natural break, his father suddenly stood, eyeing him carefully. “Nartha, if you don’t mind, I’d like to show you something.”

Nartha nodded, and smiled at his mother and sister as he stood up and followed his father into another room which at first glance looked like a cube with a curved ceiling, and then the walls and ceiling faded to reveal the night sky of Vitakar. “The glass can retract as well,” his father stated, closing the door. “But I figure we could use the privacy.”

Nartha turned serious and turned to him. “Good. But I still might not be able to tell you everything.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said grimly. “However, I want to know the _actual_ situation on Earth. The Zar’Chon and everyone in the Collective is not giving us the full story. The fact that there is a _war_ being declared is…surprising. If the species is as technologically limited as you said…subduing them shouldn’t be an issue.”

“The Humans are more dangerous than you know,” Nartha answered, knowing that as long as he didn’t reveal specifics, he was fine. He knew what level of clearance the Aui’Vitakar had. “They aren’t using primitive ballistics anymore. They have beam weaponry, and I expect if they are not stopped, plasma will soon follow.”

“So they’re intelligent,” he nodded. “And strong enough not to be overrun.”

“No, they won’t be overrun,” Nartha confirmed. “What do you know of XCOM?”

His father chuckled. “Only that everyone does _not_ like them.”

“They’re the reason the Humans have any chance at all,” Nartha explained. “They are the best soldiers of humanity. And scientists and engineers if that matters. One XCOM soldier is better than our Lurainian. They were able to kill a _Hive Commander_.”

His father started at that. “How?! And how did you-“

“I was assigned to observe XCOM,” Nartha interrupted, raising a hand. “I learned a great deal about them. As for how, Humans are capable of psionics.”

His father looked away, sucking in his breath. “That explains a lot. If the Humans have their own psions…the Zar’Chon will have to explain why he kept this from us. This is information we need to know and has been denied to us ever since this _started._ ”

“ _No_.” Nartha stated coldly, emphasizing that point as much as possible. “Do you _want_ the Zar’Chon to remove you? Mother? Cairu? If the Aui’Vitakar start discussing the invasion publically, people are going to ask questions, and the Zar’Chon does _not_ want people asking questions now. Neither do the Ethereals.” He gave a weary smile. “Can’t dispel the propaganda, father. The Zararch wouldn’t allow it.”

“And yet you’re telling me this now,” he said slowly. “Why? Last time you wouldn’t even confirm things _I already knew_.”

“One, because the Zar’Chon didn’t say that information is classified above your clearance,” Nartha explained coolly. “He knows I’m related to you, and should have specified if he felt otherwise. Two, because I think the _government_ of our species shouldn’t be in the dark, at least not to this extent. Three, because I’m not the same as I was last time we talked.”

His father appraised him for a few minutes, then gave an imperceptible nod. “I think I understand. You made friends with the Humans, didn’t you.”

It wasn’t a question. “Several,” he answered neutrally. “Though that isn’t exactly relevant here.”

“Then what do you think I should do with this?” He asked.

Nartha pondered that. If things got out of hand, if would be bad if the Zararch decided to purge the entire Aui’Vitakar, but it wouldn’t be out of the question. “You have representatives who want answers as well, yes?” At a nod, he continued. “Tell them what I said. Don’t do anything, and in person, public areas only. The Zararch have likely bugged offices and computers. From there…you have more diplomatic experience here. Perhaps you could speak to the Zar’Chon or better, introduce an order that withholds the Runianarch from participating in Collective activities without informing the Aui’Vitakar.” He paused. “It would have to be very public though. Public enough where if representatives…resigned, there would be questions raised. Too many for the Zararch to silence.”

His father now had a clear look of…not quite concern, but something close to it. “Nartha…you’re being very helpful about this. This is not what I expected from you.”

Nartha gave him a humorless smile as he walked back to the door to rejoin his mother and sister. “Like I said, I’m not the same. Let’s go back before they wonder what you’re actually talking to me about.”

***

_Vitakar, Intha Zararch Base_

“Identification,” a tall Dath’Haram guard stated as he approached the doors of the windowless black square that no doubt extended far underground.

“Of course,” Nartha answered with a nod, handing the ID which was quickly scanned and handed back.

“Apologies, agent,” he grunted. “But we have to check everyone now. Several Nulorian operatives managed to get into one of the bases in Borelia and it was clear that automation wasn’t working here.”

That was certainly interesting. “We were breached by the Nulorian?”

The Dath’Haram bared his teeth. “I should amend it to say that those particular Nulorians never got _out_. Once inside they were quickly captured. Fools, but the Zar’Chon doesn’t want this happening again.”

“Noted,” Nartha said, walking past him and into the lobby that was more or less black metal with an elevator at the end of the room. No one was inside, but he knew very well that the room was being monitored by analysts and plasma turrets would fall down from the ceiling if any threat was detected.

He entered the elevator and a haptic screen was immediately projected before him. And…Level 3 was the agent deployment room, where agents received assignments and information on specific targets was available. That was where he’d find the information he was seeking. He pressed the illuminated image and the elevator door closed behind him and it began lowering.

A few seconds later, the door slid open and he stepped into the bustling deployment room. Zararch agents of varying races were huddled in groups, armoring up, or discussing things with the various analysts in the room. The initial room itself was rather small, with a holographic projector displaying information about various targets of interest and operation statuses in the middle of the room, while the more specialized rooms were elsewhere.

To the left was the Target Library, which was where he needed to go. It was always filled with Operation Handlers and agents looking for gathered information on specific targets. The room was filled with dozens of the fastest computers in the Collective, and very little else. To his right was a briefing room where agents would receive instructions from Operational Handlers in person, and it served as a debriefing room as well.

There was a break lounge directly across from him, but he didn’t care about that now. The Armory and Training Area were likely other floors altogether. He swiftly moved to the Target Library and upon entering took one of the computers near the end, away from the other Vitakara already taking advantage of the wealth of information.

A quick tap of his fingers and the haptic display appeared, along with a virtual keyboard to begin making inquiries. It could be voice-controlled as well, but he didn’t want to advertise himself any more than necessary. He dismissed the haptic keyboard and a physical one slid out a second later and he began entering his identification. He’d always preferred hardware for computer interactions.

Since he was a high-ranking agent, almost everything regarding operations on Vitakar was open to him, and quite a few beyond it, all extremely well organized by organization, species, city, and race. He considered looking over the operations concerning the other Collective Species, but also knew that too much unexpected interest would flag Zararch analysts if they looked into his search history.

No, better to keep on track here. He could always come back some other time.

Instead he touched the NULORIAN box, and narrowed down operations by CITY: INTHA. Perfect, there were currently four targets of interest, none of them assigned to other agents due to the low priority. He spent a good amount of time looking over the details regarding them and finally decided what he was going to do there.

All of the targets of interest were suspected of having ties to the Nulorian, none of them were suspected Nulorian Operatives, but suppliers or contacts at best. All intolerable to the Zararch, but in comparison to the wider galaxy, the Nulorian were a nuisance at best. That was going to work to his favor here.

It seemed his best option was to have a short chat with Mul’forial’intha, the only of the targets who had actually interacted with a confirmed Nulorian operative. There was a chance she had indeed not known who she was dealing with, but he had acquired quite a bit of supplies – all cold-weather survival – from her.

She also stood out because she was rather highly placed in the Mullestha, the species-wide organization responsible for supplying the entire planet and colonies. They worked directly for the Aui’Vitakar and were the suppliers of all major Vitakarian organizations including the Runianarch, Zararch and Lurainian.

Forial wasn’t the _highest_ Mullestha in Intha, but highly placed enough to acquire a lot of specialized equipment in a short amount of time, from all across Vitakar, to a client who was a known criminal. She wasn’t stupid, and had clearly tried to make it seem as innocent as possible, but she was dealing with the Zararch, which made her an amateur at best.

However…there was potential. He _knew_ how the Zararch worked and what would _actually_ flag the analysts. If she really was working with the Nulorian, she could be his means to setting up a meeting which, he noted sourly, was going to go over _very_ well with the suspicious organization. He was not unprepared for the possibility that they would refuse contact altogether just because of who he was.

But he had a plan for that as well.

He nodded to himself and immediately claimed that operation for himself. After this he’d go speak to the Operations Handler to let him know. That might raise some questions, but unlikely anything major since he was certain he actually outranked the Operations Handler here. In fact, he might use this as an opportunity to…establish some cover.

If all current targets of interest were closed, it would look like he was wanting to shut down any sort of criminal activity in his home city. Logical and wouldn’t draw suspicion, and at the same time, make the planet ‘safer for all’. And since he was the one who had pushed for it…well, if one of them was found innocent, then all the better.

In any case, he had another objective to investigate. He backed out of the NULORIAN operations and switched to AUI’VITAKAR operations. He’d never personally participated in any of these, since he had largely worked off-world, but he knew that they were run differently than traditional Zararch ops. For starters, _every_ representative had at least one Zararch spy in his or her entourage that reported on various aspects of the representative.

That was usually as far as it went for most, just another check to make sure the Aui’Vitakar didn’t do anything _too_ radical. But sometimes the Zararch spies flagged representatives for various reasons and those required firmer investigation. Levels of investigation were color-coded based on impact and threat level. Green was normal; blue required additional investigation; yellow required immediate interrogation; red indicated confirmed Nulorian involvement; white indicated immediate replacement and interrogation; black was a demand for immediate execution.

To Nartha’s knowledge, white had only been used four times, and black only once. As it was right now, there were 100 blue-level flags which almost elicited a gasp. One entire _third_ of the Aui’Vitakar under further investigation was unprecedented, which clearly meant his father was _far_ from the only one beginning to ask questions.

He quickly acquired some more information on the demographics. Twenty-two were Vitakarians, which was a surprising amount, but not nearly as much as the thirty-three Borelians, which, in retrospect, wasn’t entirely that surprising since a war would warrant their attention. Four were Dath’Haram, which appeared small, but considering they were focused intrinsically on the Vitakara as a species and didn’t care about much beyond that, it at least showed some were willing to dig deeper.

There were zero for the Sar’Manda or Oyariah, which was entirely unsurprising since the Sar’Manda were more concerned with their underwater empire than the rest of the Vitakara, much less anything beyond the planet, and the Oyariah, of course, were blind supporters of the Ethereals who would never dare question them. Fools.

However, the Cobrarians had a staggering forty-one members flagged for further review. That was just past four-fifths of their elected legislature, which _had_ to indicate that this was something likely felt in the leadership itself, and not a simple majority. At the very least, it required further analysis. He isolated the Cobrarian leaders flagged, and sorted by prominence.

Aui’sareech’hala, the former Cobrarian Hierarchy Leader, and now a simple representative. If _she_ was being flagged, then the Hierarchy itself was no doubt also now flagged for review. If there was any representative that held _major_ influence outside the Aui’Vitakar with the Hierarchy, then it would be her.

That alone was major, and indicated at the very least that the Cobrarians were concerned about…something. Nartha wasn’t entirely sure it was the Humans, after reading some of the notes. Apparently there was something of a cultural crisis recently with Cobrarian males leaving the Nests in protest for having virtually no say in the Hierarchy which would be fine…had the ratio of female to males not been nine to one.

Simply put, the Cobrarian Hierarchy couldn’t really afford to alienate the male population too much, otherwise reproduction would be…difficult. But without some kind of controls, there would be nothing to limit the influence a male Cobrarian had within the Nest, and given how essential they were to breeding…it would be a lot.

He sighed, not envying the position the Cobrarian was in. Like he had told Shun, it was bound to happen eventually. But it bad timing for it to start happening _now_ of all times. In either event, he needed to speak to Sareech as soon as possible, but after he attempted to determine a way into the Nulorian.

He quickly committed everything regarding the current investigation on Sareech to memory, and logged out of the computer. Standing, he turned to go and speak with the Operations Handler. Vacation was over, time to get to work.

***

_Mars Orbit, Forward Observation Station_

Ravarian was angry.

No, he amended with a sigh, _angry_ was not the right word in this situation. He was _irritated._

And the next logical question, would be _why_ the Zar’Chon of the largest intelligence organization in the galaxy be angry? For once, it wasn’t about the situation on Earth, which was actually starting to stabilize, because the Battlemaster was an actual professional who had a job and did it well. Unlike _some_ others in the current leadership.

No, he was irritated because the figure before him was the image of…he wasn’t entirely sure. But it certainly wasn’t the image of a competent professional Ethereal wanting to work with him. Quisilia was an Ethereal who could do as he pleased, but Ravarian was truly wishing for the days before being officially transferred here, when Quisilia was a fairly serious overseer who occasionally made a smart comment.

He actually wished _Sicarius_ was back, at least she had let him do his job and didn’t interfere even if she clearly had no interest. Now he was constantly concerned that Quisilia was going to post something that compromised entire operations. He despised the fact that his morning routine consisted of waking up and immediately checking that infernal Human site _Twitter_ and hoping that Quisilia hadn’t made some vague hint about future plans, or worse, posted a selfie _with his actual face_ in some attempt to…taunt XCOM?

Ravarian was still not sure what Quisilia’s end game was, but he was always relieved if all that happened was Quisilia getting into a meme war, or better yet, being _completely silent_. He now had a Zararch analyst now watching all of the Ethereal’s social media, and all of them were torn between thinking it was fake or a traitor, because of course there was _no way_ that it was an actual Ethereal.

Whatever his reasoning, Ravarian could barely fathom how… _stupid_ Quisilia was sometimes. He’d raised the point – many times – that ADVENT and XCOM were _watching_. And the cheerful Ethereal _laughed_ and said he hoped they were.

Well, if nothing else, this had assured Ravarian that Quisilia wasn’t going to ever kill him for gross disrespect. Some of the thoughts he had-including now-were not at all complementary to the good Ethereal before him, and Quisilia seemed more amused by that than anything else. But he was beginning to get a handle on his new eccentrics.

And now Quisilia had decided to go ahead and make himself look like even more of a joke. Because standing before him, in his regular robes and armor, Quisilia looked almost normal. Were it not for the white-haired cat cradled in one lower hand, with the other one affectionately stroking the top of its head. The infernal ball of fur was, of course, purring contentedly as Quisilia waited for him to begin.

Needless to say, he was not amused.

Even less so when Quisilia had said that the name of the cat was “Fluffy”. Ravarian gritted his teeth as the ridiculousness of the picture became more apparent. He was about to have a serious discussion with an Ethereal who could kill everyone here without anyone noticing, that trolled people on the Internet for fun, and was now petting a cat.

“Quisilia, you did quarantine the stations Nartha visited, correct?” He began slowly.

“Yes, of course,” Quisilia confirmed. “I suspect that had we not known about his motives, we would have never suspected him until it is too late. But no matter, the facilities are temporarily closed until we know how best to stop this virus.”

Ravarian sighed. “Well clearly, something didn’t go according to plan. Sectoids across Helion-3 are apparently…ill.”

Quisilia stopped stroking the cat’s back. “Symptoms?”

“Sluggish, listless, and their limited telepathy is distorted,” Ravarian recalled grimly. “The ones most affected have yellow pus building in their eyes. The Sectoids have already isolated the contaminated workers, and are likely now affected as well.”

The Ethereal was silent for a few moments. Ravarian cocked his head. “Quisilia?”

The Elder chuckled. “A brilliant move, Commander.”

“I’m sorry?” Ravarian interrupted. “I highly doubt he was behind this since only Nartha had the agent.”

“No, I believe we are seeing the Commander’s plan at work,” Quisilia said, raising a free hand. “But we… _miscalculated_. We believed that Nartha only needed to distribute the bioweapon for it to work, but I do believe we didn’t account for him being infected _beforehand_.”

Ravarian started. “Impossible. He was screened for illnesses and agents. Nothing was detected.”

“Of course nothing was detected,” Quisilia answered. “It only affects _Sectoids_. And since it clearly is a genetically based bioweapon, our scanners wouldn’t have detected it, not to mention it would be difficult to notice unless you knew about it beforehand.”

“Damn it,” Ravarian cursed, borrowing a human phrase. “I think he mentioned it was specifically designed to be transferrable in every way possible. Air, liquid, food. He’s been a walking bioweapon ever since he arrived…” he sucked in his breath. “And since _we_ were exposed to him…”

“We are as well,” Quisilia finished. “Nartha was not aware of this. I would have learned as much. But the Commander, or perhaps Vahlen, infected him without his knowledge so he wouldn’t be able to reveal it if he was caught. A brilliant contingency plan. One we have fallen for.”

Ravarian felt his grudging respect for the Commander go up a few notches. “And if that is the case, we have a possible catastrophe on our hands. We have to assume the worst and that everyone here is infected, and if one of the Sectoid planets is contaminated, one of the _shipyards_ , then potentially much of the species is as well.”

“I will be informing Revelean of the immediate change of plans,” Quisilia nodded. “We need to figure this disease out before it completely decimates the Sectoid ranks. I will be speaking to the Hive Commanders about suspending all operations and purging contaminated systems.”

Ravarian nodded. “This is going to severely slow down operations, but better that than losing an entire species.”

“Oh, all we lose of value is time,” Quisilia amended, beginning to stroke the cat’s head again, which nuzzled his hand affectionately. “The drones can be replaced, and only the Hive Commanders are of any real value. It will take time to clone replacements, but perhaps they’ll realize that their idiotic reliance on templates is highly flawed. The scientist Vahlen was clever. She used their genetic similarity against them and they are paying the price. An expensive one, but perhaps necessary. It will not affect operations on Earth. We have enough Andromedons, Mutons and Vitakara to handle one planet of Humans.”

Ravarian sighed and turned his mechanical hand palm up as a holographic report appeared as he recalled it from memory. “The Battlemaster will not be happy.”

“No, he’ll be overjoyed, I think,” Quisilia nodded. “He despises the little grays. It will not affect his plans in the least.”

Ravarian was no fan of the Sectoids either, truth be told they were unnerving in even a way Quisilia wasn’t, in a way the _Ravaged One_ hadn’t been, but seeing Nartha’s own report, the initial signs of the bioweapon and the Commander’s own noted history, he wouldn’t wish a bioweapon dreamed up by him on anyone.

The Commander always had an ulterior motive here, there was always something deeper than mass genocide. The Commander exploited psychological warfare, and wouldn’t hesitate using an entire species as a giant message or warning that would say _fight us and this will be you next_. They might be able to suppress this, perhaps, but people were going to ask questions.

The soldiers would definitely being talking amongst themselves when Sectoids began disappearing, or worse, saw the infected ones. Morale would drop. The Andromedons would almost certainly demand answers, and the Hive Commanders would demand to know how something like this could ever happen to begin with.

It made his irritation of Quisilia and his cat trite by comparison. Although that _cat_ was probably now a walking bioweapon as well.

“I need to consult with Revelean immediately,” Quisilia said, walking away. “Beyond the Sectoid problem, there are several recent events that need to be addressed.”

Ravarian eyed him as he left, turning partway towards the retreating Ethereal. “You are actually taking the cat?”

“Oh, of course,” Quisilia said, affectionately petting the animal on the head. “Fluffy always brightens up a room. I rather like the little furballs, the Humans were right to domesticate them. You should consider getting one yourself, it might reduce your stress.”

Ravarian snorted. “I don’t think so. I have-“ he stopped speaking as Quisilia vanished right before him, leaving him alone. With a sigh, he turned back to the list of operations he had to go over. He figured he might as well check on what Nartha was doing and make sure the traitor wasn’t causing any more damage than he already had.

***

_Vitakar, Intha Mullestha Distribution Center_

Nartha ignored the large unloading area that was bustling with shipping airships landing and leaving, much of it automated with Mullestha managers making sure everything was in order. Instead, he decided that it would be more prudent to locate Forial as soon as possible and make sure no one could actually listen to their conversation.

The transparent barrier dissipated as he stepped through, and ignored the receptionist, flashing his Zararch ID at her before stepping into the main tram and directing it to the security section. The tram immediately shot to the right and a few minutes later, he stepped out into the clean security center lobby.

Two guards and a captain waited in front of the door which led to the more secure parts of the security center. All of them were Vitakarians, wearing gray vests that would survive perhaps one shot of plasma before penetration, with the Mullestha logo on the right shoulder patch. The two soldiers held Vitakarian plasma rifles, more streamlined and sleek than the ones the Mutons used, which gleamed with a faint silver sheen.

The soldiers wore simple face-obscuring helmets of the same gray color, with the exception of the captain who simply had an ear implant. He frowned upon Nartha’s approach. “I was not expecting company.”

Nartha smiled. “No, you weren’t. I need to access your security systems.” He raised his ID. “Zar’nartha’intha. I need some information.”

All of them stiffened, and the captain’s eyes widened in surprise…and fear. “I see, how can we assist, agent?”

“With luck, you won’t need to,” Nartha said. “Like I said, I need access to your security systems. I need to ask several questions of one of your associates. I doubt it will take long, but the fewer who are aware of this, the better.”

The captain nodded. “I see. Follow me, agent.” He turned and Nartha followed him into a narrow corridor and then to the second door on the right. The captain scanned his own ID and the metal panels parted and he stepped inside, Nartha close behind him.

Inside was a room with dozens of holoprojectors and haptic screens, all displaying footage from the various cameras, drones and other surveillance equipment installed throughout the facility grounds. An older Vitakarian woman walked up, in a similar uniform, a frown on her face. “Captain? Who are-“

“Zararch,” the captain cut off quickly, not needing to say any more.

She swallowed. “How can we help?”

Nartha turned to them, hands clasped behind his back. Good, he had their attention and the fear of the Zararch would come in use here. And perhaps if they were privy to some ‘confidential’ information, it might go even more smoothly. “I trust that both of you can be discreet?” He made sure to have the underlying threat in his voice. It was coming back rather naturally.

At their nods, he continued. “One of your associates, Mul’forial’intha has come under suspicion and I need to question her. I need her current location.”

The security officer nodded and gave the instructions to one of her subordinates while Nartha continued. “We have identified several possible Nulorian contacts, all of which are being…dealt with now. We _do_ know that the Nulorian are watching this distribution center, and may have possibly compromised your security, especially if Forial is implicated.”

“Agent, I am positive our security has not been compromised,” the security chief said quickly. “If you want-“

“I tend to agree,” Nartha interrupted, raising a hand to cut her off. “However, I will not take chances, and I do not want to tip them off if they have. Set all current surveillance equipment into a loop until I finish questioning her.”

The Vitakarian woman’s eyes widened. “ _All_ of-“

“All. Of. It.” Nartha repeated slowly and deliberately, narrowing his own eyes to blue slits. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

She visibly swallowed. “We will do it-“

“Good,” he finished, turning around. “And I will return when I have finished to verify you have performed as asked.”

The captain quickly got his attention. “Forial is in her office. Manager Section, room 225.”

Nartha gave a nod. “Thank you, captain. Your assistance has been noted.” With that he walked away until her was back on the tram and directed it towards the appropriate sector. He was confident they would follow his directions, and he knew enough about standard Vitakarian computer systems to know if they were foolish enough to try and ignore his orders.

The fear and respect the populace still had for the Zararch clearly hadn’t dimmed, thankfully. It wasn’t pleasant, but it made his work much less noticeable and that was what he needed right now. He was in fairly nondescript clothing himself, the gray uniform of a Mullestha field unloader in fact. Uniforms were especially handy in places like these, and he didn’t stand out among the Vitakarians here.

Upon reaching his destination, he stepped out into a shining white lobby and, ignoring the receptionist and other Vitakara in the room, proceeded to the appropriate room. No one had yet stopped him, and presumed that he was supposed to be there or had some otherwise valid reason. The offices themselves were fairly small cubicles, all segmented from each other with white walls and harsh white light from the ceilings.

Nartha located room 225 and the door slid open as the sensor detected his approach. The Vitakarian woman looked up in surprise, eyes widening as she watched him enter smoothly, a knowing smile on his face as he carefully made sure to visibly lock the door behind her. “Mul’forial’intha, I presume?”

Forial was sitting behind a desk with a haptic screen displaying what he presumed was distribution information, and probably performing her normal tasks. “Yes…I am…” she answered hesitantly. “May I ask who you are?”

Nartha pulled out an audio disrupter, turned it on and set it on her desk. While he was sure the security footage would be set to a loop, there was a possibility that her room was already bugged, and he preferred not to have to worry about someone eavesdropping their conversation. The audio disruptor emitted an inaudible signal, but one that would turn any recording into high-pitched screeching.

“Zar’nartha’intha,” he answered, taking a seat opposite her. “I would like to ask just a few questions.”

He saw several quick thoughts flash through her eyes. Surprise, fear, panic, and immediately tried to clamp down on her expressions, but it was already too late. However, it wasn’t an admission of guilt. Probably everyone would feel that way after receiving a visit from a Zararch agent. “What about?” She asked slowly, deliberately trying to keep her voice level.

Nartha smiled. “Normally I would ask several questions in an attempt to trap you, but I have neither the time nor inclination to do so. Thus, Forial, I will be blunt: You are currently under suspicion for connections to the Nulorian, specifically, this.” He withdrew his holoprojector and displayed the images of her speaking with the Nulorian operative, then it flashed to reveal the manifest of the items sold to him.

Forial’s eyes widened even more, and he turned his voice colder. “You have one chance to answer honestly, Forial. First, did you know he was Nulorian? And second, if so, I would like to know your reasons.” He shut off the projector. “Understand that if I even get a _hint_ that you’re lying, I will take you to the Sectoids for psionic interrogation. Tell the truth and, well, let’s say it will turn out much better for you. For starters, you will not be arrested and all charges will be dropped in return for your cooperation.”

She bit her lower lip, trembling slightly. Until finally she relented. “I didn’t know he was Nulorian the first time, I swear. But…I did find out later.”

Nartha nodded. “Good. You’re smart enough to not lie. Why?”

“Because, _Zar’nartha’intha,_ I know what you’re doing,” she suddenly snarled, clearly expecting to die now that her treachery was revealed. “The _Zararch, Lurainian,_ even the Aui’Vitakar. All of you are traitors to our species, thralls to your Elder puppetmasters and have the gall to lie to us _every day_. And anyone who even speaks out _disappears_.”

“Yes,” she hissed at him. “Not all of us are blind or stupid. When people suddenly go missing, we _notice_ it. When people I know suddenly vanish it suddenly becomes very clear just who is in charge here.” She folded her arms. “I know about Vitakar-12, _agent_. And if I can help the Nulorian blow up the sick monsters responsible for that…then I’m certainly going to do it!”

Vitakar-12…He was unfamiliar with the name. He would have to look into that later. But the woman was a terrible spy, which fortunately suited his purposes well. He clasped his hands together. “Yes, I agree.”

“That’s what I-“ she froze, and narrowed her eyes to blue slits. “What?”

“An impressive speech, for sure,” he complimented. “And I agree. The Vitakara are too beholden to the Ethereals. The Zararch in particular are little more than direct tools. You’re very lucky I took this assignment, otherwise you would be facing a rather thorough interrogation from the Zararch. If the agent didn’t shoot you out of disgust. But it seems it’s your lucky day.”

She blinked rapidly. “Are you…what…? Why?”

Nartha sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about Earth? The Humans?”

“Some,” she admitted. “We don’t get much information about that. I’m focused on other duties anyway.”

“I’ve been there,” he said. “The Humans are fighting the Collective. I think they can win, and as I see it, this may be the only opportunity to free the Vitakara from the grip of the Ethereals.”

Forial straightened in her seat. “Victory against the Elders is impossible. Not completely. Even as much as I would like to believe it…the most the Nulorian will be able to do is avenge. Not openly rebel.”

Nartha pulled out a chip. “Perhaps I can make it clearer…the Humans killed an Elder. I have _proof_.”

She audibly gasped as he continued. “Everything on that chip is from a Human paramilitary group called XCOM. They’ve been fighting the Collective since the beginning. They have psions. They have acquired the technology. Like I said, they killed an Elder and I think they can ultimately win.” She took it with a trembling hand. “Unlike what you seem to believe…not everyone in the Zararch is blind to the reality. But most of us don’t see a way to change it. But change is never going to come by doing nothing. My time with the Humans was…inspiring in a way. I’ll probably die, but I believe a difference can be made now, and I’m going to take it.”

She nodded, looking back to him. “I…I guess you choose me for a reason then?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “When I return to the Zararch, I will simply say that you had no knowledge of his Nulorian connections, and I have coopted you as a contact should he appear again. The Zararch will file it away and you can go on with your life. You will have protection status as an asset, and I will take the role of your handler. I would suggest you be discreet, but your…purchases will likely not attract as much attention, especially if I say you are working to expose a Nulorian cell.”

He leaned back in his chair. “For what I need? Get that chip to the Nulorian. Tell them I want to help and will be attempting to forge connections in the Aui’Vitakar. They are not the enemy and are just as frustrated as you regarding the lack of answers. But I want to meet them, preferably sooner than later as the Zar’Chon will likely recall me within days. Tell them I’ve worked directly with XCOM, and have Level 2 Security Clearance.”

She sucked in her breath. “You are that highly placed?”

Nartha shrugged. “I did say I reported to the Zar’Chon. Can you do that?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes I can. How should I contact you?”

He handed her a piece of paper. “That is the encrypted line I’ve established. I don’t want it on record, but I should be able to be contacted on it. Pass it on to your Nulorian friends as well.”

“I will,” she promised. “I-“

“And I’ll add,” Nartha said. “Practice your acting. I have plausible deniability here. Betray me and I’ll ensure your entire family is sent to wherever Vitakar-12 is.”

Her pale gray skin turned a shade lighter. “Wait…you really don’t know?”

“No, I’ve never heard about it,” he admitted with a shrug, standing. “But after your little speech, I’m going to look into it. Perhaps you can give me an overview?”

She shuddered. “It’s where they send the dissidents,” she whispered. “Where they have the Sectoids experiment on us. I…I think the Nulorian should give you any specifics. Don’t try finding it either…they warned me that people that look into it also disappear.”

Nartha pursed his lips. She was unfortunately right. Looking into it, if it was really as…vile…as she suggested…he would imagine that the Zar’Chon would have no problem killing him to keep something that dark a secret. “Thank you for telling me. Until later, Mul’forial’intha.”

He exited the building, both elated that it had gone so well, and almost shaken at what the implications of Vitakar-12 really were. In truth…he wasn’t entirely surprised.

But he had thought the Zar’Chon better than sending dissidents to be test subjects for the Sectoids. That fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone. The horrors of the Earth Sectoid Hive had been enough to drive _that_ point home very clearly.

It was becoming clearer that he was doing the right thing. Small steps, but he was on the right path and just had to keep it that way without being discovered.

For now, anyway.

***

_Blacksite 002 – ID: “Forge” – Overseer: Revelean_

While the Battlemaster waited for Revelean to finish his current project, he was taking advantage of the geneticist’s own CODEX system to get status updates from his own subordinates, all of whom were present at this time.

 _“It appears ADVENT is determined to hold Seattle,”_ J’Loran stated. _“If I am to break their lines, I will need a much larger force.”_

 _“Alternative,”_ Disciple-7 interrupted in his grunting monotone. _“Simply neutralize the city entirely. The civilian population is evacuated and there is no risk of collateral damage otherwise. I estimate that the destruction of such a well-known city would significantly damage the morale of local forces and United States civilian population.”_

“And it might compel Aegis to act,” the Battlemaster pointed out. “I would prefer to avoid that at this time. J’Loran, how many modified Mutons are left?”

J’Loran paused before answering, his bulk oddly still. _“There are…a fair amount. However, the iteration is flawed and I have begun modification on a newer generation. Now that Patricia has fought them, she is well aware of their weaknesses. They will not be nearly as effective the second time, and there is a greater chance XCOM will not retaliate with a telepath against me.”_

The Battlemaster nodded, it was expected. “The fact remains that both Seattle and Portland need to be taken before we advance much further. The southwest is largely secured, thanks to my own efforts and Disciple-7. The civilian population is also placated and additional Sargons are maintaining order.”

 _“Indeed,”_ Disciple-7 nodded. _“I have already drafted plans to target Las Vegas. I expect that the population there will not pose much of a threat and there is little strategic work in keeping it secure for ADVENT. However, it is a major cultural icon that would no doubt have an adverse effect on the population. I estimate the risk of advancing there would be low, including factors such as that we have the southwest as you noted, and major cities are few and far between.”_

Irinena growled, her golden form shimmering. _“I have read about the city. I would simply burn it to the ground. There is little value in preserving such a hub of depravity.”_

 _“I do not disagree, in fact,”_ Disciple-7 surprisingly supported. _“The city has little worth to us, and serves primarily as a hub for Human entertainment and luxurious excess. Their wealth is of little value to us, and in my estimation, the morale of the United States population would be reduced three times as much by publicly destroying their icons as opposed to simply capturing the city.”_

J’Loran hummed to himself. _“I am continually impressed by your logical thinking, Sargon. Unfortunate that your brethren are so…restricted.”_

 _“I am not opposed to destroying the city,”_ Irinena noted, baring her teeth. _“However, it would be handicapped by the presence of civilians, unless you wish to include them in the destruction.”_

“I will handle that,” the Battlemaster dismissed with a nod. “I believe I can solve multiple issues at the same time. The Humans have apparently decided to suppress my involvement in subduing San Francisco. That will be remedied. I will inform ADVENT of our impending attack on Las Vegas. They may decide to abandon it, or they may defend it. Such is irrelevant. However, they will work to evacuate the civilian population. Once that is completed, I will raze the city to the ground, and broadcast it for all to see.”

J’Loran chuckled. _“Quisilia will love it.”_

“Indeed,” the Battlemaster noted wryly. “However, what he likes is irrelevant. While I destroy Las Vegas, we will assault Portland and Seattle again in renewed numbers. Disciple-7, you will lead the attack on Portland once more, and J’Loran, you will take Seattle.”

Irinena was silent until he turned to her. “And you will perform a different function. I have been utilizing the Vitakara poorly and the Lurainian in particular. Using you as simple soldiers was not wise, and you do not have the correct mindset for large-scale warfare. So I will utilize you differently.” He waved a hand and another image appeared in the middle of them, the continent of Europe. “I want to distract XCOM. Europe is seen as impenetrable. And the reality is that it is without significant losses on our part. But they will not expect a quick strike.”

Irinena nodded faintly. _“And my objective, Battlemaster? Destruction? Conquest?”_

“ _Distraction,”_ the Battlemaster clarified. “You will take a Gateway Transport to France and deploy it in the middle of Paris, you are free to construct your attack however you wish, but the objective is to cause as much chaos and panic as possible. Provoke an XCOM response. Provoke an ADVENT response. Once they are fully occupied…we will launch our attacks in the United States. Retreat when my signal is transmitted.”

He changed the image to that of what appeared to be a floating orb with a glowing red ‘eye’. The metal plating around the eye was clearly able to be segmented, but otherwise it looked unremarkable. “In addition, you will be fielding a new creation from Blacksite 001, simply dubbed, the _Gatekeeper_. I have been assured that it will be able to defend the Gateway from unwanted assault. The full details will be sent to you.”

He looked around at all of them. “I do not want to destroy Seattle, not yet. Nor Portland. Create your battle plans and report to me within one week. I want to launch this assault no later than two weeks, and I will warn the Humans of the attack on Las Vegas within four standard days. Battlemaster out.”

The golden figures vanished and he swiftly turned and exited the CODEX communication center and into Revelean’s station of horrors. He didn’t know a more accurate way to describe it. The entire Blacksite was segmented into multiple sections. Each level was for running experiments on different species, and more were constructed should he need it. He had just added a Human level in fact. Right now he was on the Vitakara level, and what it contained was somewhat disconcerting, even for him.

The level was segmented not by experimentation type, like the others, but by race. Each segment had stacks of pods holding various Vitakara in stasis until they were used. Revelean had the interesting habit of preserving several specimens after death, and turning them into little more than realistic statues which he placed throughout the facility as _decoration_.

The Battlemaster snorted as he walked through the facility. To his dubious credit, Revelean was not overly cruel. Not like the Creator, though even her actions might be the mere result of her instability. It was a common sight to see Vitakara cut into various pieces or autopsied on tables, but they were always either dead or chemically sedated.

That being said, Revelean wasn’t opposed to inflicting pain. _Dispassionate_. That was the best word to describe him. It wasn’t uncommon for pain-tolerance tests to occur here, especially if he was testing out various genetic enhancements on them, and there of course were the test pens where he kept the results of his genetic manipulation. He was rather fond of splicing various traits of the races together, all of course to one final goal.

Revelean had determined long ago that the Vitakara races were useless and each one had strengths the other lacked. Thus, his somewhat dubious goal (In the Battlemaster’s eyes), was to eventually return all Vitakara into one singular race once more. He had listened to Revelean go on and on about the usefulness of such a process, because he was convinced that he could eventually evolve the Vitakara into shapeshifters.

 _True_ shapeshifters, not the Faceless creatures whose usefulness was sadly limited. It wasn’t surprising that Revelean also had quite a few of the lumbering wax-like creatures cut up here as well, since incorporation of their own genetic malleability would be essential to turning the Vitakara into a shapeshifter race.

Personally, the Battlemaster was skeptical that such a scheme could, or even should, be done. It was something he would have expected the Creator to try and do, but the fact that Revelean had begun to do so indicated to him that it was at least theoretically possible.

The genius Ethereal geneticist himself was currently maneuvering some incomprehensible machine over a Dath’Haram male, the arm specifically, probably going to try some new genetic sequence. Unlike most Ethereals, Revelean wore very modest clothing. He wore no robes or armor, but simple white form-fitting coverings over his torso, arms, legs and white gloves on his hands.

His helm was thinner and resembled something like an armored skullcap, fitting the shape of his head closely, and closing around his nose and mouth, while leaving the eyes exposed. His helm also had the capability to deploy magnifiers for each eye, one of which was over his right one as he worked on the Dath’Haram.

“I have finished,” the Battlemaster interrupted bluntly. “You wanted to talk with me?”

“Ah, certainly, Battlemaster,” the smooth reverberating voice answered, each syllable echoing at least a half second after it was uttered. “I trust that your plans are proceeding.”

The Battlemaster made a dismissive wave. “Yes. What do you want?”

“Patience,” Revelean chastised as he straightened, even at his full height of nine feet, the Battlemaster still towered over him. “I actually have some updates from the Creator herself. Or Blacksite 001, if you prefer.”

The Battlemaster cocked his head. “Interesting. Why would she inform us of her work now?”

Revelean chuckled. “Well, to be fair, I am fairly certain she was calling to brag. She now has yet another pet to add to her collection. You’re not going to believe what she did this time.”

The armored Ethereal sighed. By ‘pet’ he supposed it was yet another result of the Creator attempting to integrate Ethereal genetics into the various species. A fool idea that only someone as unstable as her could conceive of as being clever. The first two ‘results’, that of combining Andromedon and Ethereal genetics, and Vitakarian and Ethereal genetics, had of course resulted in abominations just as insane, if not more so, than the Creator herself.

The first one had killed every assistant associated with its creation, and was a psychopathic bipolar wreck obsessed with pain, torture, combat, and a twisted sense of honor. Supposedly the Creator had to give her dozens of victims a month just to keep her sedated and from losing her mind completely. A useless creation that was far more costly than was worth it. The Creator didn’t care, of course, the mere fact that she had been able to construct such a being was reward enough for her.

The second one was much, _much_ worse. Largely because it killed people by just talking with them and driving them insane. Why the Creator had taught the thing _telepathy_ was beyond him, but the result was a twisted thing that was disturbingly intelligent and had unfortunately learned Quisilia’s sarcasm and believed itself a superior being, sometimes even to other _Ethereals_. Naturally he and Quisilia were friends. Typical. As was _Isomnum_ of all Ethereals, though given his methods, the Battlemaster was not surprised.

Now of course she had done it again. Wonderful. “What happened?”

Revelean raised a finger on one hand. “She incorporated Ethereal and _Muton_ genetics of all things.”

A low growl emanated from the Battlemaster’s throat. “She appears to believe that because her Blacksite is orbiting the Dead World, that she can do whatever she wants. I will be speaking to the Imperator about purging her creations if this continues.”

“For once, I agree with the idea of purging these scientifically momentous achievements,” Revelean nodded. “In truth, I was skeptical, and honestly see little reason to do it. But she has done it and that avenue of research is open to us, should we follow it. However, she should have terminated those abominations long ago. This new one in particular is a gibbering maniacal wreck overwhelmed by his psionics and trying to kill everything that gets close to him. The primitive mind of a Muton cannot simply comprehend the power of the Gift.”

He shook his head. “However, I did congratulate her. She has done excellent work recently, especially with the Gatekeeper, so I feel it appropriate to let her explore her irrational ideas. If the Imperator tires of her experiments, he will interfere, simple as that. But as interesting as this is, I did want to inform you of my latest orders _from_ the Imperator.”

The Battlemaster narrowed his eyes. The Imperator almost _never_ interfered or gave orders with Revelean, so this was…intriguing. “What are they?”

Revelean had an odd note in his voice. “The Imperator wants me to resume work on the Avatar Project.”

The Battlemaster was unable to hide his surprise. “It was deemed a failure centuries ago. We expanded too many resources to begin with. You determined it wasn’t possible.”

“The Imperator seems to disagree,” Revelean shrugged. “He thinks that Humans might be the key. Upon some initial investigation, I am wondering the same thing. Humanity is capable of psionics-“

“As were the Sectoids,” the Battlemaster reminded him. “Need I remind you of the Hive Commanders that immolated themselves or went insane? The Overmind was… _displeased_ he had to personally alter the memories of the remaining Hive Commanders.”

“The point is that it deserves to be investigated,” Revelean interrupted. “Which is why I’d prefer you not kill any psions you find. Capture them and bring them to me.”

“Why?” The Battlemaster asked bluntly. “Does awakening Human psions pose a challenge?”

“No, but it is a matter of time,” Revelean admitted. “Humans at the psionic level and mastery that are useful here will take months or years to properly achieve. And the Imperator…well, I believe he wanted answers on even just if it was possible rather soon. I am, of course, awakening Humans, but I would prefer that to be a contingency, nothing more.”

The Battlemaster was silent, before sighing. “I will see what I can do.”

“I don’t expect it should pose too much of an issue,” Revelean stated with confidence. “After all, I have yet to see an instance of Humanity that would even give you pause.”

“Oh, we’re starting up the Avatar Project again?” A new voice interrupted, and the Battlemaster turning with some resignation to see Quisilia walking up to them. “This will be interesting.”

The Battlemaster stared. “Quisilia…why are you holding a cat?”

Indeed, the former Imperial Shadow was holding some white feline in his lower arms, absentmindedly petting it. The entire picture looked…wrong…to him. And disrupted the somber nature of the discussion. Which was _not_ helped by Quisilia’s companion at his side. “And why is there a… _tiger_ …with you.” The Battlemaster was convinced that animal at his side was such a creature. It was one of the animals from Earth that fascinated him.

The tiger actually seemed docile, and now that Quisilia had stopped, laid down around his feet and started purring, a low rumble that would have terrified any sane person. In truth, the animal was rather small compared to his own height; not even coming up to his knee, but he was still wondering what Quisilia was doing with such a creature.

Quisilia raised a free hand. “I’ll get to that, but Revelean, there is a _slight_ issue with the Sectoids.”

“Really,” Revelean asked dryly. “What now?”

Quisilia cocked his head. “The short version is that I made an error. You recall the Sectoid bioweapon Nartha revealed that XCOM made?”

Revelean nodded. “And you said you had it under control and I could assume control of the Quarantine zones.”

“About that,” Quisilia said slowly. “It turned out that the bioweapon is indeed transferable cross-species, and Nartha was, unknowingly, infected with it. And in turn, infecting everyone around him, and ultimately leading to what I fear to be a majority of the Sectoid population being infected as well. If we do not act, I am afraid our Sectoid numbers will be decimated in the coming months.”

Revelean was silent for a few moments. “You will inform the Imperator of your error, since he was rather insistent that the Avatar Project be completed soon. This new situation takes precedence, but you will bear any punishment for this failure, Quisilia. And I will attempt to clean up your mess. I thought you _insisted_ that you could control this traitor?”

“This had very little to do with Nartha,” Quisilia answered, shaking his head. “At least, knowingly. Even if I had killed him the moment I learned he was a traitor, the damage could still be done. He was a walking bioweapon the moment he landed on Mars and unknowingly contaminated hundreds of workers. This situation would have still arisen. I will, of course, inform the Imperator.”

Privately, the Battlemaster could not have cared less about the Sectoids dying of a genetic bioweapon. He had half a mind to find some way to save the Human scientist who had conceived it for himself, since anyone smart enough to realize that the Sectoids were a blight upon the galaxy was one he wanted working for himself.

“Now, as for the tiger,” Quisilia said, turning to him. “I got him for you as a pet.”

The Battlemaster narrowed his eyes. “A _pet_?”

“Yes, a pet,” Quisilia repeated happily. “Fluffy here has made me realize how nice it is to have them. It’s very relaxing. The furballs are rather cute, and the Humans are smart to have realized that pets are an excellent quality of life improvement. Besides, cats pretty much take care of themselves, and more to the point, everyone else struggles to wrap their minds around me having one,” he finished with a laugh.

The Battlemaster was not convinced. “Self-sufficient or not, I don’t have time to devote to this animal. And why a tiger?”

“Please,” Quisilia dismissed. “A regular house cat is the size of one of your hands. You need something big enough that you won’t kill accidentally. Besides, I figure he would be useful in combat. Tigers are predators after all, and Humans fear them.”

The Battlemaster looked down at the feline stretching out on the ground and sighed. “I see why you get along with the Creator. Your ideas are as unhinged as hers.” Practically speaking, he _could_ probably find a use for this tiger. Maybe not as a _pet_ , but the only ones who could keep up with him in combat were chryssalids or other Ethereals, and since he would never use the former, perhaps it would be interesting to have a combat companion his speed.

Although…he eyed the tiger. It was going to have to be improved significantly. Otherwise it would be shot dead in seconds. Perhaps a project for Fectorian? A short distraction to cybernetically improve an Earth creature? Yes, he could see a way to present this to Fectorian.

“Not one for me?” Revelean asked mockingly.

“Absolutely not,” Quisilia stated, almost sounding offended. “If I gave one to you, it would end up on some cutting board and dissected. I only give cats to people who _appreciate_ them, thank you very much.”

Revelean chuckled, a definitely strange conclusion to a meeting which would have ramifications across the entire Collective.

***

_Vitakar, Aui’Vitakar Assembly Chambers_

The center of Vitakarian government was just as impressive as ever. The Chambers themselves were massive, sleek and with soft white angles that protruded far above any other building in the capital. It was one of the only buildings to break convention and construct upwards instead of horizontal. However, Nartha would not be entering the physical chambers today and instead headed to the Cobrarian Hierarchy Embassy, where all their representatives were stationed when not in session.

Everything had to be kept to regulation, which meant that there was no sand or vegetation in the Embassy, which was no doubt something they would have wanted. Although there were special mats that were the equivalent of chairs for the Cobrarians, who coiled their lower bodies on them. The air was also arid and hotter than usual, which was to be expected. Even the mild climate of the Capital was almost cold for them, though many had adapted to it.

It was fairly busy, as many schools took groups of young Vitakara to the capital, although the goal was to learn more about the different races than specific government, so in addition to them, there were aides, soldiers, guards and other representatives going about their business. He slipped through the crowds unnoticed, acutely aware of how many Zararch agents were stationed throughout just this area, all watchers for the representatives. Some were aides, some were friends, and others were guards. All were spies keeping tabs on assuredly more than just their charges.

Sareech herself was fairly close, and her own personal aide, another young Cobrarian, Aui’hisrath’lasa, was her unknown Zararch spy, a rare Cobrarian Zararch agent. He had let her know beforehand that he was coming “on business” and she had agreed that he would not be disturbed. He outranked her by a significant margin, so it wasn’t difficult to get past her.

She actually inclined her head as he walked up, and the doors parted as he stepped into the office of the Cobrarian representative. It was fairly larger for an office, with clean white walls, chairs to accommodate all races and lit by a Cobrarian Heat Lamp, which had the adverse effect of making the entire room hot.

Sareech herself was behind a tan desk, her lower body coiled up on one of the mats, and her upper half was dressed in the typical Cobrarian Representative uniform: A brown cloth vest-like garment that bore no markings aside from the emblem of the Hierarchy on the shoulder pad. The hood of the garment was down, exposing the reptilian face of the representative.

Nartha did admit that the Cobrarians were a race that did occasionally make him nervous being around. They were strikingly _different_ from every other race, with perhaps the exception of the Sar’Manda. How they were even the same species was amazing, but such was the power of Vitakara genetics.

Sareech was fairly old, from what he could tell. Her scales were a pale yellow, scratched in places and her diamond-shaped head was actually turning white in some places. Nevertheless, she was one of the most influential figures in the Hierarchy, even if she was a mere representative now. She tilted her head as he walked in and took a seat. “[Hello, Vitakarian,]” she began in their language, unable to properly form words of the Basic language all other races used. Fortunate that he could understand it. “[May I help you?]”

“I hope so,” Nartha nodded. “I don’t suppose you know who I am?” At this he activated his Audio Disruptor.

She flicked out her forked tongue.”[…no, but you taste different than the others. You have been off world. _Earth_.]”

He widened his eyes. “Impressive. How did you know?”

She hissed, which was Cobrarian for a chuckle. He hoped. “[Because I’ve spoken with those who have returned. Soldiers. Lurainian. Runianarch. _Zararch_. All who came from Earth tasted as you did, with the faint scent of the Humans on them. Which are you?]”

He inclined his head. “Zararch, honored representative. Zar’nartha’intha.”

She visibly tensed, coiling up tighter like a spring. “[Zararch…I see. And why would you wish to speak to me, agent?]”

Nartha laced his fingers together, and rested his hands on the table. “Let us say for now it is simple curiosity. I have disrupted any devices eavesdropping on us, so we can speak freely, although the cameras are still working. But returning to the topic at hand, I don’t suppose you are aware you have been marked as a potential issue by the Zararch? Or that forty of your fellow representatives have been flagged as such?”

She flicked out her tongue again. “[I suspected I was, it is no surprise. I am aware how you… _operate._ However…I did not realize it extended to so many of my sisters. Why?]”

“That, is what I want to determine,” Nartha continued. “Specifically, have you pressed for additional information on Earth? Introduced motions affecting Vitakara military policy? Supported controversial positions?”

Sareech shut off the haptic displays and eyed him curiously. “[The Hierarchy does not approve of how much is…unknown…regarding this new species. Naturally they have asked us, as representatives, to learn what we can. However it seems….few…are interested in the truth. The Runianarch and Lurainian say it’s too sensitive, and the Collective is not forthcoming either. I’m certain you can understand that, and with the…issues…currently in the Hierarchy, we have enough to deal with without wondering what is happening without our knowledge.]”

Nartha nodded. “I suspected as much. And that is why you are under watch, as well as an entire third of the Aui’Vitakar. The Collective does not wish anything involving the war to become public knowledge.”

“[It does not _need_ to be public!]” She hissed. “[But we have a _right_ to know what our people are fighting and dying for! People come to us for answers and we can offer _nothing_. We have no choice, and if the Zararch doesn’t understand that-]”

“Calm, Representative,” Nartha placated, raising a hand. “I believe I can give you some information…provided you don’t use it recklessly.” His tone turned cold to drive home his point. “Understand that everything I will tell you will mark you for death by the Zararch should it be used carelessly. Do you still want me to explain?”

Hesitance, then a nod. “Good,” Nartha continued. “The war against the Humans is not going as well as you are hearing, if you have heard anything at all. They have reverse-engineered Collective technology and are using it to defend themselves. It has gotten to the point where the Elders themselves are taking part in the conquest. Most notably the Battlemaster and previously Ethereals Sicarius and the Ravaged One.”

She tilted her head. “[I do not recognize the names, save the Battlemaster.]”

“They are isolated figures,” Nartha clarified. “But what you need to know is that the Humans, specifically and organization called XCOM, killed the Ravaged One. I have proof, and I was there.”

She visibly recoiled. “[How could they kill an _Elder_?]” She hissed in amazement. “[It should be impossible…]”

Nartha gave a slight smile. “You can see why they want this information…suppressed. After the Ravaged One died, that was when the war began in earnest. Despite what you might have heard…the Humans have the ability to fight back, and possibly win. Their people are also capable of wielding psionics.]”

“[This changes everything,]” Sareech hissed furiously. “[They truly thought they could keep this from us? We have tolerated the insolence of the Collective too long. We must demand _answers!_ ]”

Good, she was on the right track. “I would avoid that,” he cautioned. “Trust me, I feel the same way. Which is why I’m telling you this. But you can’t act immediately, not unless you want to draw the Zararch out, and they _will_ kill you. I wouldn’t even take this to the Hierarchy, not yet. It would look too suspicious if you were to suddenly leave after we spoke. I wouldn’t mention this to _anyone_ yet either. But wait at least a few days, preferably, a week, then return to the Hierarchy. Decide what to do then.”

He subtly left a chip on the table. “There is proof. And if you want to get answers of a different sort…have you ever heard of Vitakar-12?”

She cocked her head. “[Sectoid naming convention? Are you referring to Viennith? It’s a dead planet, desolate and abandoned. Why?]”

Nartha pursed his lips. “I’ve received some potential information that is…disturbing, if true. However, you say it hasn’t been touched. Are there mineral deposits? Anything of use?”

“[The entire moon could be mined for resources,]” she said slowly. “[It’s been on the lower end of the agenda for decades. Never gets any traction when there are better projects.]”

“Perhaps you should bump it up,” Nartha suggested. “I hope I’m wrong about it, but I would prefer we know everything in our home system. Please don’t ask questions. Not yet.”

She nodded. “[You have been…helpful…But I suspect this is a means to an end for you. This information isn’t handed to me for a reason.]”

He stood. “Let us say I need a friend in the Aui’Vitakar who I can marginally trust. However…before you make any public decisions, or even ones in the Aui’Vitakar relating to this…contact me first. I would prefer you not attract the Zararch and be executed. They will not hesitate to remove one even as influential as you. Now you know why.”

He paused. “Take the proof to the Hierarchy when the time comes. Think carefully about the future of our species. Information on how to contact me is on the chip. Good day, Sareech.” He turned around and exited.

That had gone…well…he supposed. The shock and outrage he’d seen was genuine, but he was more concerned she would accidentally compromise him and do something rash. That was always a risk, but he had to trust she wasn’t an idiot. But if he could get the Hierarchy on his side, things just might start shaping up in his favor.

Assuming of course, he could still continue to trick the Zar’Chon into thinking he was still on the side of the Collective.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 10: Guidelines for Extraterrestrial Civilizations

Subsection 10.1: Introduction

 _Overview and Purpose:_ As humanity is decisively no longer alone in the universe, we must prepare for contact, conflict and diplomacy with other alien civilizations beyond our own and ensure that we establish humanity and ADVENT as the unrelenting and proud voice of our species. We will ensure that humanity never bows or succumbs to alien influences and no alien civilization will hold power over our species without destroying our own in the process.

Alien civilizations must be made to understand that humanity can never operate or negotiate from a position where the alien benefits overwhelmingly from the arrangement or at the expense of Humanity, nor can they be allowed to believe that conflict would result in anything other than their own annihilation. To attack one Human is to attack our species, and ADVENT must take an unrelenting hand in dealing with alien civilizations and put the preservation of human life above all else.

At the same time, ADVENT realizes that not all aliens seek war or destruction with our own, and should be a strong and diplomatic leader to species who choose to ally or work with ADVENT. The extent of friendly relations will be determined on a case by case basis, but alien civilizations can rest assured that ADVENT will never attack unless provoked, be it openly or otherwise.

Humanity seeks not war, but will accept nothing less than total victory for those that oppose us.

_Table of Contents:_

10.1: Introduction

10.2: Diplomacy for Hostile Alien Forces

10.3: Diplomacy for Friendly/Neutral Alien Forces

10.4: Treatment of Captive Aliens

10.5: Economic Trade Between Friendly Alien Forces

10.6: Alien Citizenship in ADVENT

10.6: Requirements for Declaration of War on Non-Hostile Alien Species


	13. Trials and Templars

 

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

The Commander frowned at the report on his tablet, and looked up at Patricia, Aegis, and Zhang who had all arrived to discuss the latest development. “Does this seem genuine, Aegis?” All of them looked to the robed Ethereal as he studied the simple message which had been recently sent to ADVENT:

 _Las Vegas is next_.

There was no signature or anything indicating identity, or even that it was alien in origin. But given the ominous nature of the message and the straightforward words, the Commander was suspecting it was the Battlemaster. “I would not be surprised if it were so,” Aegis finally said. “Though he is normally not so… _open_.”

Patricia crossed her arms. “It has to be a trap.”

“I agree,” Zhang nodded. “He’s trying to use Las Vegas as bait for some reason. He might not even attack there.”

“No, he would,” Aegis countered. “However, he is clearly expecting a specific reaction to this. The question is what it could be.”

“Assuming this is genuine in the first place,” Zhang pointed out grimly. “Is Las Vegas a city we should care about? What value does it have strategically?”

“Symbolism,” the Commander answered, looking down at the holomap of the state of Nevada. “Las Vegas is a cultural icon and seeing it captured would be a blow to morale and weaken the trust people have in ADVENT protecting them. Strategically, it’s not useful. It’s what it represents that’s the issue.”

“The question is if we should take the risk if it is fake,” Patricia noted, leaning forward and resting her hands on the table. “Even if it isn’t, the cities close to the fighting should evacuate. Yeah, it might ruin some vacations, but anyone actually going to Las Vegas for fun right now is an idiot.”

The Commander opened his mouth to speak and Aegis suddenly raised a hand. “Commander…would it be unreasonable to assume that the destruction of the city would have a larger impact than its capture?”

“Depends on how well it is publicized,” the Commander said with a shrug. “However, if they want to destroy it, I doubt there is anything we can do to stop them from broadcasting. ADVENT could lie, but it might backfire. Why?”

“A thought,” Aegis mused. “I wonder if that is what the Battlemaster plans. To destroy the city. He would not do so if there were civilians still living in the city, but if they were gone…”

“Ah,” Zhang suddenly smiled. “I see. ADVENT of course wants to reduce civilian casualties. Leak the attack ahead of time and they will evacuate, leaving nothing but soldiers. Clever.”

The Commander had to agree. “Interesting. That means he does not see any strategic value in preserving it. Perhaps we can use that.”

“The question is _how_ ,” Patricia mused. “The easiest way to negate his plans would be to advise Saudia not to evacuate. It might prevent the Battlemaster from destroying the city right away-“

“No, it won’t,” the Commander interrupted. “All that will do is delay him. If he really just wants to destroy the city, he’ll just remove the civilians and do it anyway. We have little to gain by not evacuating.”

“We can’t forget that this may simply be a distraction,” Zhang reminded them. “I highly doubt the Battlemaster will just attack one city, if he even bothers to personally appear.”

“I agree,” Aegis nodded. “If I had to hypothesize, he is preparing another offensive in the United States. Likely to capture Portland and Seattle before continuing onward.”

The Commander frowned as he looked down at the holotable. With Canada unreliable, and the Battlemaster wanting to establish clear lines of territory as he advanced, reprisal was going to be…problematic, and he clearly wanted those cities. The Templar Program was proceeding…well…but he was very skeptical that they would do little more than slow the Battlemaster down. Whichever city he attacked was likely forfeit, but doing nothing was out of the question.

“If it is him, the Battlemaster is giving us a warning,” Patricia said slowly. “We need to take that. Negate as much damage as possible.”

“The good news is that all the civilians that were still in Portland and Seattle are gone,” Zhang noted. “I hate to suggest this…but I think we should begin thinking not of winning, but asset denial tactics and prepare in more fortified cities and use the natural barriers in the Midwest instead to trying to keep our hold on the West Coast cities.”

The Commander sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t necessarily disagree. At the very least contingencies should be made if we _do_ lose the cities. If the Battlemaster is indeed intent on destroying Las Vegas, we should make it as costly for him as possible.”

Patricia rubbed her forehead. “Saudia is not going to like this. The large decisions like this have to be approved by her.”

“She isn’t an idiot,” the Commander said. “And I think that we’ll all agree that if we do lose the cities, we make sure there isn’t much left for the aliens to use, or make it extremely costly.”

“So is that our recommendation?” Patricia asked. “Evacuate Las Vegas and prepare to sacrifice the cities?”

“It should be,” Aegis agreed. “Perhaps you can hold the cities where the Battlemaster is not attacking, but in the event you cannot, it is better to force the Battlemaster to delay than decide a few structures are worth preserving and allow him to capture them whole. And I will strive to continue preparing the Templars until the Battlemaster strikes.”

“I’m curious when you’ll actually decide to participate,” Zhang muttered, shooting a glare at the Ethereal. “Talk is all well and good, but actions speak louder than words, as we Humans say. If you really are on our side, you should show it.”

“I will help when the time is right,” Aegis answered calmly. “I do not wish to escalate the situation more than necessary. Yes, I could help you and perhaps save the West Coast. But you understand that by publicly taking a side, you will draw more Ethereals here, and it might be more than we can handle. I am not refraining from interference simply because of cowardice and not ‘taking a side’ as you put it. But because my public involvement could irrevocably doom your world.”

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can understand that to a degree, but if the situation worsens…”

“I am not ignorant, Commander,” Aegis said. “If the situation becomes dire enough, I will intervene. You have my word.”

A word the Commander didn’t entirely trust, but then again, Aegis had been exceedingly helpful the past couple months, and perhaps he could be trusted to a degree. But it was still mildly frustrating dealing with his refusal to openly fight. “I suppose that’s it. I’ll have Jackson send our recommendation to Saudia. Dismissed.”

***

_Australia, Sydney Outskirts_

Abby put away her binoculars and observed the now-captured city from afar. The problem, from even the outside, was that it seemed impossible to get in without discovery. Whoever was in charge of defense was very smart. There were what looked like Zararch snipers, and every street entrance was guarded by Mutons and she had observed groups of Mutons led by Centurions or a Vitakara wandering the city streets.

No civilians whatsoever, at least wandering out in the open. What was curious was that there appeared be no supply lines of any kind. She’d carefully watched over the past couple days and nothing. Which immediately indicated to her that they had, or were building, Gateways within the city.

Which was not good.

She knew hard proof was needed, but again the problem was actually getting inside, and then _out_ once she learned what she needed. Exploring without a direction or general area was also a bad idea, as she would only waste time and increase the possibility of her capture. So no good options.

A glint in the sky caught her eye and she looked up to see a gray UFO transport come out of the sky, and maneuver towards the interior of the city, close to the center, and slowly land. She raised an eyebrow and brought up her binoculars. Hm. Well, that hadn’t been expected. The good news was that from her vantage point she could get an idea of what they were doing, since the area had been converted into a makeshift landing zone recently.

Her eyes widened even more as they began unloading a strange structure, almost an upright _U_ attached to a pedestal with glowing purple lenses throughout it…ah, now _that_ made sense. They were _receiving_ Gateways from offworld, not actually building them here. That made sense, but as she kept watching, she didn’t see more than two being unloaded.

In the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t a lot. It would be a problem, but unlikely to be game-changing especially if they were located and destroyed. She quickly noted that in her log, along with the time and location, as well as the areas it appeared the Gateways were being transported to. Harper would definitely prefer harder intel, but she simply didn’t have the equipment or information needed to successfully penetrate the city.

Well, she’d gotten what he wanted. Her goals were to learn if the aliens _did_ have Gateways established and if possible, their locations. She knew the answer to one, and could narrow down the second. It would have to be good enough, and she’d need to talk with Zhang about additional tactics or supplies she could use.

She waited until the sun went down and then began making her way back to the main camp with the little ATV Rover she’d been provided. It would at least suffice until she reached the helicopter, one of the few that was in operation. That reminded her…

She was fairly certain at this point the deal she had made with the Chronicler was up. She didn’t remember if it had been two or three weeks, but even if it was the latter, she knew it was past that. Once she reported to Harper, maybe it was time to pay the psion a visit and see if he was as useful as he’d promised.

Abby wasn’t sure she actually wanted him to have fulfilled his promise. If he _had_ …it was going to make things a lot more complicated.

***

_The Praesidium, Templar Training Arena_

The thing Patricia especially liked about the Praesidium was how large it actually was. She had initially thought that the ones selected for the Templar program could train with the regular psions, but she’d dismissed that when the Commander had notified her of a large empty room that could be used as a training arena for them.

And so the Templar Training Area was born. It was largely empty and a massive rectangular room with one corner filled with various obstacles when either Aegis or Leng wanted to challenge the trainees. All of them were deep in practice now. There had been four she and Aegis had deemed appropriate as “trial” participants.

Iosif first, which was not a surprise as a defensive psion fit the program exceptionally well. Karen Dais had also been chosen, and Patricia did believe that a telekinetic psion could work almost as well as a defensive one. Chan Jin-Taek was more of a test case, since he was an attack psion and potentially vulnerable in a way none of the other ones were. He wouldn’t go up against the Battlemaster, but Aegis did believe an attack psion could easily decimate ordinary enemies.

The last one she’d added almost as an afterthought: Carmelita. While the combination of psionics and melee combat was _technically_ what Patricia wanted, Carmelita was uniquely qualified to fill the role. She had experience with melee combat to a degree, was an expert at close quarters and ultimately, if she could wield a melee weapon…Patricia couldn’t see a reason to deny her that. She was really only accepted because she had the Iron Skin and Muscle Fiber Density modifications and could take damage that Templars would draw. But Patricia knew that Carmelita would be the exception here – not the rule.

Right now the Korean woman was dueling Leng who was still managing to fight her to a draw. Patricia shook her head in amazement as he continuously managed not to get brutally beaten by the genetically superior soldier. All the Templars were training in full armor, as Aegis and Leng both agreed that they should get used to wielding weapons in their gear.

Chan was currently cutting through a self-created scenario of haptic dummy projections, his greatsword flaring with purple mist as he swung the blade as if it weighed nothing. Karen was practicing telekinetically calling her weapon to her hand instinctively and throwing it again at a different target.

Iosif was currently attempting to duel Aegis and actually seemed to be doing decently. All in all, things were proceeding well. A month and they might have some exceptional duelists. As soon as the Commander had authorized the program, Patricia had Jackson find an actual expert in historical melee weaponry and tactics, and she had found one: Aki Leng.

A middle-aged Japanese immigrant to America, he had been surprised at the offer, but definitely willing. She confirmed that he seemed trustworthy enough, and that he wouldn’t do anything to hinder their operations. He had been, well, somewhat disturbed seeing the Battlemaster in action, and the fact that one of the same aliens was working for XCOM didn’t exactly reassure him.

However, he did agree that their plan was solid, and had immediately gone along and shattered Shen’s vision for the Templars. Shen, and Patricia too for that matter, had envisioned the Templars as sword-wielding psions that killed enemies with ease and could slow the Battlemaster down, if not stop him altogether. Romantic for sure, and _not_ practical at all according to Leng.

The first thing he had thrown out the window was the set goal of using _swords_ as the base weapon. He had, rightfully, pointed out that stabbing the Battlemaster was going to accomplish absolutely nothing because of his armor, and would ultimately be little more than show. “He’s not going to get tired, he’s not going to have his armor breached, and he’s not going to care about your swords except laugh.” Leng had said. “You really want to slow him down? _Damage_ him.”

So he had instead proposed that psions dueling the Battlemaster wield armor damaging weapons like war hammers, maces and flails. “Swords are useful,” he’d said. “But they are not a one-size-fits all weapon. It’s just another tool. You don’t use screwdriver to weld steel, so why should you use a sword against impenetrable armor?”

Aegis had been rather impressed he’d pointed that out. Apparently the Battlemasters in the Empire had not bound themselves by a single weapon either. Aegis recalled that while most did indeed use greatswords, there were a good number that duel-wielded, used axes, morning stars and energy-based alien weapons. So the next thing Leng had done was help each new Templar pick out a weapon that suited them the best.

Iosif had chosen a mace as his primary weapon, two of them in fact. A shorter one for regular enemies and a longer one for dealing with the Battlemaster specifically. Weight wasn’t much of a factor, as all of them were genetically enhanced and could swing heavy weapons easily. Patricia was very careful not to be around Iosif when he was swinging his mace around, since he could probably kill her with one lucky hit, or break most of her bones at the least.

Chan had developed a love of massive two-handed weapons that he could envelop in psionic energy. He was alternating between a massive double-headed war hammer which she was _also_ trying to stay away from, and the Zweihander, which looked like a greatsword except somehow larger and with two parrying hooks on the blade, slightly above the hilt. From what she gathered, the Zweihander was for regular aliens and the war hammer was for the Battlemaster.

Karen had opted for complete annihilation tactics. Her primary weapons were two short swords which she planned to use against regular alien forces, throwing and recalling them in such a way that she was never unarmed, and a long-handled mace if she had to face the Battlemaster. In addition to all that, she had strapped half a dozen combat knives to her armor, and planned to telekinetically throw them when she deemed it appropriate.

As Carmelita was the lone non-psion in the group, her style was slightly different. Namely that her alloy cannon was one of her primary weapons, and her melee weapon would alternate between the standard longsword, and a flail. Why she had chosen such a dangerous weapon for her second option had been brought up by Leng, and Carmelita had shrugged and said something to the effect of “It’s unique.” Which Patricia knew from her emotions, that it was her way of saying she wanted to use it, and that was that.

Shen was designing special MELD and alien alloy enhanced variants of the weapons they would be using, but in practice they would always be using basic non-modified weapons. For one, it meant they could unload on Aegis to their heart’s content as he couldn’t be hurt by them, and the Aegis armor was strong enough that Leng could spar with swords and even flails and not get hurt.

She smiled as she felt Creed come up behind her and whistle. “Well, they seem to be coming along quite nicely. Not joining in?”

He meant it as a joke and she chuckled along with it. “Unfortunately not, I can’t use my own powers in melee combat. Wrong skill set.”

He smirked at her. “Nah, you’re just not thinking creatively enough,” he tapped his head. “It’s actually pretty simple: Invade their minds, say “freeze” and while they stand there you go up and slice their throats.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Or I could just shoot them. Never really liked making things more complicated for myself.”

“Fair enough,” he relented, coming up and putting his arms around her, pulling her into his chest while they watched the Templars train. “You trust the new guy?”

“Leng?” She asked. “For the most part. He’s done well here so far and he surprisingly gets along with Aegis well. I don’t think he’ll be a problem. Trust me, I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Well, if anyone would know, it’s you,” Creed said. “I never thought medieval combat would actually return. Seeing XCOM soldiers wielding swords is strange, let alone a giant alien doing the same.”

“Neither did I,” Patricia admitted, listening to his steady heartbeat as the sounds of steel hitting steel rang in the foreground. “But then again, there’s a lot of things I didn’t expect recently.”

There was silence for a few minutes. “Do you think we can stop him?” Creed finally asked.

Patricia hesitated before answered, until she just slumped into him and sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Aegis is doing his best but…even with his help, even if we had _everything_ …I don’t know if we can. And if we do…I’m worried what that would bring down on us. You…you don’t know, but the Battlemaster is far from the most dangerous Ethereal out there. I’m worried that even if we kill him, we’ll just draw down someone worse.”

“Then we’ll kill them too,” Creed reassured her, kissing her gently on the side of her head. “I trust you and I trust the Commander to figure out a solution to any problem that comes up. Think about it Patricia – We should have lost this war a long time ago, but we didn’t. All the aliens have accomplished is making our species stronger, and the longer they fight us, the better we’ll become. I don’t think the Ethereals have ever run into a species quite like ours, Patricia, they don’t know how to deal with an enemy that takes their strengths and turns it against them.”

He did believe the words he was saying, but he didn’t know what she knew about the Ethereals, the Collective, the Synthesized, Revelean, the Imperator himself. He was blissfully ignorant of the evidence that point to the fact that not only did the Ethereals know how adaptable Humanity was, they were _counting_ on it.

For what purpose…Aegis said the Imperator wanted soldiers.

She wasn’t so sure anymore. She believed he was after something specific. There was a goal he wanted to accomplish that all of them were missing.

But she didn’t say anything to Creed, and just enjoyed being in his presence as they watched the Templars train for the inevitable duel with an Ethereal who’d spent centuries honing his craft.

***

_Japan, Nakashibetsu_

“Everything is so quiet.” Beatriz said softly as she peered through her sniper rifle, looking across the vast expanse of fields. “Do you think they’ve given up?”

“Doubt it,” Johan said with a shrug, still keeping his rifle at the ready. “But they’re probably done for the day.”

Duri agreed. The aliens attempted to press an attack of sorts every day, usually by sending a few dozen Andromedon and Vitakara soldiers. He was fairly sure it was a continuous probing attack to make sure ADVENT wasn’t planning a sudden attack on their one lone town. But it was always hectic, even if ADVENT had every advantage.

They had definitely not been idle, and Duri knew that fairly soon ADVENT was going to launch a retaliation attack on the town. Within Nakashibetsu itself, there were dozens of THAAD defense systems and artillery launchers, which was the primary reason they had suffered very few losses when the aliens attacked. There was simply no good cover for them to take, and what cover there had been was now wrecked. The once-tidy fields were now ravaged by artillery fire and turned into misshapen terrain of dirt, grass and plants.

More artillery and squads were being covertly deployed to encircle the town itself, and for the moment hadn’t been detected. Or they had been, but the aliens believed they were safe. Duri wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case. ADVENT Intelligence agents had reportedly been working there, and the intel he’d heard was…concerning.

The agents reported that the aliens had enacted a red energy shield over the entire town, much like what he’d seen from the Andromedons from the first attack. On top of that they were utilizing a kind of laser-point defense system which was shooting down all the airstrikes that had been attempted there. Supposedly there were also several dozen Sectopods (What the massive alien machines were called, apparently), and a _lot_ of Andromedon soldiers.

Duri had also heard talk of something called a Gateway, but he didn’t know what that was.

“Well, I think it’s past time we kicked these aliens off this island,” Cara muttered, her gauss autorifle still trained on the fields. “We should be in America.”

Duri pursed his lips under his helmet, not really sure what he should say to that. He could understand Cara wanting to defend her homeland, but he knew that keeping the aliens in check here was just as important. “They’ll be pushed back,” he reassured her. “But the aliens here are just as important.”

“No disrespect intended, but no,” Cara stated flatly. “If the aliens take America it’s probably over. Even if Japan is lost, it’s not a death blow. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’d be grateful, if anything,” Kang shrugged. “A lot of the people were killed in the attacks. The stuff I’ve heard about San Francisco is rather disturbing.”

“About how that one alien killed a fifth of a garrison?” Cara snorted. “Yeah, I’ll wait for an official proclamation before I believe that. There probably was some super-alien, but not one _that_ powerful. Sure, San Francisco was lost, but they should have at least owned up to it.”

“I’m not sure,” Beatriz commented softly. “In the official statement, there was no mention about how San Francisco was lost, and no mention of a super alien either. Not like LA. Maybe it isn’t like the rumors, but I think there was something there that has the leadership worried.”

“In any event, it doesn’t change our goal here,” Duri said, ready to refocus them before they became too focused on rumors. “We know ADVENT is preparing to decapitate the aliens here. Then we’ll see if they decide to redeploy us or not.”

“Speak for yourself, but I rather like it here,” Johan said easily. “Barring the slightly marred countryside, this is a rather beautiful place. We get to kill aliens and our chances of dying are low. In my experience, looking for fights normally leads to people dying in various horrible ways.”

“Here, here,” Beatriz agreed with a nod.

“Yeah, sure,” Cara sighed. “But you try being objective when it’s your country under attack.”

“We understand,” Duri told her, resting a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. “But all of us – no matter which country is attacked – need to remember that it’s bigger than just one nation. Even if we lose one battle, the war is far from lost. America will be reclaimed. I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so,” Cara relented, letting the barrel of her weapon rest on the ground. “But I want to be there when it happens.”

Duri smiled. “No promises, but if we finish off the aliens here…I’ll see about being deployed to America.”

“We get a vote in this?” Johan asked humorously.

“You say no?” Duri asked, raising an eyebrow even if Johan couldn’t see it under the helmet.

“What, me?” He asked sarcastically. “Nah, been awhile since I’ve been there, and as long as we’re killing aliens, I’m fine with it.”

“No suicide missions though,” Beatriz added.

All of them chuckled at that, and Duri did note that Cara seemed a little less tense as they continued their watch. Thing would hopefully be wrapped up in Japan soon, but Duri also had a feeling the aliens wouldn’t simply continue their probing attacks for long.

They would try another invasion soon, and this time he feared the aliens intended to ensure they couldn’t lose.

***

_The Praesidium, Templar Training Arena_

Nuan was now wondering on occasion if she’d died and was now living in some alternate reality because the scene in front of her didn’t make sense on a logical level. It was utterly fascinating, but not something a rational person would ever expect to see.

Specifically, Iosif and an _Ethereal_ dueling. With a mace and whatever purple weapon Aegis was using.

The Commander had a certain gift for understatement, and of course he had decided to casually reveal XCOM was working with a living Ethereal in the most off-handed and normal way possible. The first thing had involved him calling up groups to his office, where initially he outlined what XCOM was going to be doing to counter the Battlemaster (Which she was very thankful for). And Patricia had revealed the Templar program and what that entailed.

Everything seemed normal. Until someone asked how they could possibly train for something like the Battlemaster. And of course the Commander had said that they’d be training with the Ethereal that was working with them, who by the way, was called Aegis. In hindsight, Nuan believed that the Commander was secretly enjoying springing this bombshell on them.

Needless to say, none of them were permitted to share this with _anyone_ outside XCOM. The Intelligence Director had made the not-so-subtle threat of what would happen if anyone did.

So now she was stuck with game-changing information and couldn’t do anything with it. _Perhaps_ … _perhaps_ it was for the best. If the Chinese Government knew that XCOM was working _directly_ with an Ethereal…well, she honestly wasn’t sure what they _could_ do. But with that information, they could definitely use it against XCOM by implying that they were under the influence of this alien.

Her jaw locked up at that thought. That was exactly what she _didn’t_ want to have happen. She didn’t believe they were under the influence of this Ethereal, otherwise why would XCOM still be fighting at all? But she did agree that at least ADVENT and the governments of the world needed to know about this. Not the public, obviously, but at least the people in charge.

So she’d decided it might be informative to actually go down and see this Aegis and Templar Program. The Templars she could at least report on, though the premise was not likely to make sense to them until they knew about the Battlemaster, which apparently was _also_ being kept quiet. Another mistake in her opinion. It was going to get out eventually, and even if the news was terrifying, it was better than learning XCOM _and_ ADVENT had deliberately kept quiet on it.

She’d said as much to the Commander, who had shook his head and said something about “Not creating more unnecessary panic. Morale is more important than truth at this point.” She could agree with that sentiment to a degree, it was almost Chinese in reasoning, but to flat out refuse to tell other militaries? Questionable.

However, what she had learned for an hour or so of observation was how much she enjoyed watching dueling. She was still somewhat confused as to why Iosif had chosen a _mace_ of all things, but it was definitely enjoyable to watch him duel an opponent that towered over him.

The Ethereal himself was just as fascinating. From the way those dark blue robes were positioned over his body, she would have thought it would hinder his movement. But the Ethereal was surprisingly graceful, especially for his size. The sword-like weapon in one of his hands looked like it was made out of nothing but psionic energy, but it didn’t seem to be hurting Iosif when he got hit.

It was the voice that truly caught her attention. It was rich and deep, and seemed to make the air itself vibrate around him, and had some kind of echo after each syllable spoken. If she hadn’t liked the sound of it so much, it would definitely be something she would find disturbing. Then there was the _aura_ the Commander had warned them about. She knew it was affecting her, even if she was rather far away, but she could tell she was close enough because she didn’t feel any concern or fear.

Normally, anything alien made her nervous, so an Ethereal should dredge up _some_ kind of suspicious emotions, but those never came until after she left. That and she would have also been concerned about people swinging dangerous weapons around with intent to hurt or kill. Iosif was clearly not holding back, even if Aegis was. But she strangely wasn’t concerned for his own safety.

Right now the alien and Human weren’t dueling, per-se, but had been going through repetitions, apparently to help Iosif improve his ability to integrate his abilities into combat. Aegis swung his sword from multiple angles, ordering “Deflect! Deflect! Block!” And at the word “Block” Iosif would raise a hand or forearm and a psionic shield would manifest itself in front of Aegis’ phantom blade before dissipating a second later.

Aegis was deceptively fast, and he attacked from every angle she could imagine, all while yelling out commands at the same time. Sometimes he’d order two blocks in a row and then nothing but deflects for a solid two minutes. By the time the twenty-minute marker had passed, Nuan was sure that Iosif was tired from the relentless assaults and commands. And then Aegis finally attacked with a swing he was unable to block and it sent him flying nearly a dozen feet to the side.

If Nuan could feel concern right now, she would have winced. But he didn’t seem hurt, and Aegis’ weapon dissipated and he withdrew the arm into his robes. “Well done,” he said. “Rest for now before you exhaust yourself.” Then turned and walked over to where some of the other Templars were training.

Iosif groaned and picked himself up, and once he had, pulled off his helmet and trudged over to her. The only indication of his surprise at seeing her was a raised eyebrow. “Hello Nuan, like what you see?”

She nodded. “Yes, it’s rather interesting. I definitely would not have expected anything like this before coming here.”

For some reason, Iosif seemed to find her answer funny. “But really,” he continued, reaching for a water bottle. “Why did you come down here?”

“I wanted to see this Templar Program in action,” she answered. “And the Ethereal. Speaking of which…did you know about him? The whole time?”

“Aegis?” Iosif glanced back. “Yeah, for quite a while. Figured the Commander would tell all of you eventually. Trust me, I was surprised to learn it. But really, Aegis isn’t all that bad. A bit overly dramatic and everything, with that getup, but I like him. He’s been helping all the psions and I’m guessing the Commander and his council.”

That seemed…reasonable. At least to a degree. A hostile Ethereal probably wouldn’t attempt to train Human psions. “Why is he here?” She asked.

“Supposedly because he isn’t happy with how the Ethereals are handling us,” Iosif shrugged. “So his response is apparently to defect and join their greatest enemy. Got to give him credit there. Doubt that’s the _whole_ story, but I don’t think he’s a spy or anything like that. Otherwise we’d all be dead or captured.”

Nuan nodded. “Did that hurt? When you got hit?”

“It wasn’t _fun_ ,” Iosif emphasized, leaning his mace against the wall. “But it didn’t quite hurt. I don’t really feel that anymore thanks to my modification. But Aegis has been pressing me that no matter how bad it is here, the Battlemaster is going to be much, much harder.”

Nuan motioned toward the mace. “Why that instead of a sword?”

“Well, because I wanted it and because it’s more practical,” he explained, picking it up. “A sword is probably not going to pierce or slice his armor, but a mace might be able to put a dent into it and make it difficult for him. A good blow to his head might also disorient him. Leng was rather insistent that all of us train in some kind of blunt weapon for heavily armored enemies.” He grabbed the haft and extended it to her. “Go ahead and hold it.”

She reached out with a hand and grasped the cool haft. “I’d grab it with two hands,” Iosif advised with a grin. “It’s heavier than you think.” She took his advice and grasped it firmly with both hands, eying the flanged head of the mace, which to her eye looked almost as big as her own head. He let go and the head almost dropped to the floor immediately.

She hissed and shifted her grip and managed to lift it in what was probably a mockery of an attack stance. The damn thing was _heavy_. She looked up at him incredulously. “How do you swing this thing around with _one hand_?”

“The beauty of genetic modification,” he smiled, taking the mace back at her insistence and casually twirling it in his hand. “Enhanced strength is a useful side effect. This isn’t really a ‘standard’ mace either. It’s a bigger adaption of the German Mace, with a longer haft and bigger head. Specifically for fighting the Battlemaster. I’ve got a much smaller one for regular enemies.”

“I’d hate to get hit with that thing,” Nuan shuddered at the thought of someone being smashed with that flanged weapon. “It might be worse than a sword.”

“Depends on where you get hit,” Iosif chuckled, letting it fall to his side. “The mace will break bones and cause a _lot_ of blunt trauma. Although with the exception of head injuries, the wounds can be treated easier should there be medics on hand. People generally don’t die from broken bones, but they _do_ die from amputated limbs and blood loss.” He set the mace back against the wall. “However, one good blow to the head is usually enough to kill most people.”

Nuan nodded, now wanting to ask a question that had been on her mind. “Why did you never block Aegis with your weapon? It was always a psionic shield.”

“His advice,” Iosif explained. “According to him, blocking the Battlemaster with your weapon is a quick way to die unless you’re as large as him. It’s better to deflect instead of outright block, saves energy and will stop you from being driven into the ground from the force of the blade alone. Aegis hits _hard_ , and he’s quite pointedly told me that the Battlemaster hits _much_ harder.”

That made sense, but didn’t seem like overly good news. “Does he have _any_ weaknesses?” She asked.

Iosif pursed his lips. “In combat? Truthfully, very few, if any at all. According to Aegis, he’s had literal centuries of training and has seen probably anything we can throw at him. Even if we manage to break his armor or pierce it, his skin is strong enough to likely stop our weapons. Not to mention that he’s a telekinetic and _does_ use his powers in combat.”

Iosif paused thoughtfully. “Aegis thinks that we might be able to use his height against him. The bastard is twelve feet tall, that’s _twice_ as tall as me, and several heads taller than Aegis himself. Getting in close might hinder him more, and make it difficult for him defend himself at such close range. His only _true_ weakness is psionic attacks, but no one but Chan can really do anything about that, and Aegis said that the Battlemaster is _well_ aware of his flaws and he doesn’t usually let actual threats live very long.”

“You’re not exactly making me feel better.” Nuan stated slowly, slowly becoming a little concerned. Well, more than usual. Apparently Aegis was far enough away that he wasn’t affecting her anymore.

“What, you prefer I lie?” He asked sarcastically, with a smile. “Yep, there’s a good chance I’ll die, but we really don’t have a choice, do we?”

Nuan shook her head. “No, I guess not.”

“Hey, don’t count any of us out yet,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I think Shen and Vahlen are making some tools to help us. And don’t forget we’re getting help from an Ethereal that _specializes_ in protection and defense. Trust me, I don’t plan to die.”

“I don’t think any of us want to,” Nuan said quietly. “But it seems…almost impossible, honestly.”

“Then give yourself every advantage you can,” Iosif suggested. “Do what I did. Don’t want to die? Make yourself as unkillable as possible. Get yourself genetically modified. Trust me, you won’t regret it. Train in melee combat, hand to hand, any weapon you can to survive in any situation. Sticking to one weapon only won’t help you forever.”

She bit her lip. The genetic modification _was_ admittedly something she’d been considering, but wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate step to take, especially without permission from her superiors. However, maybe if it was to increase her survivability, they might not need to-no, no, she was doing it again.

 _Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should_. Going being their back like that would be just a traitorous as lying, especially since it meant subjecting herself to foreign procedures. The problem was that those thoughts were becoming more and more common, and she was finding it harder and harder to just ignore them or dismiss them as the treason that they were.

“Nuan? You alright?”

“I-“ she quickly glanced up at a now-concerned Iosif. “Yes.”

He appraised her for a few seconds. “Remember what I said about psions knowing if someone is lying? I somehow doubt it, Nuan. You’ve been doing that a lot recently.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, hoping that would somehow make it better. “I’ll…I’ll think about what you suggested. You’re right, we all have to minimize our chances of losing. But…” she sucked in her breath, then slumped her shoulders. “Sorry. I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later.”

He didn’t seem entirely surprised, but definitely concerned. Still, he said nothing as she made a quick and highly suspicious exit. But she knew that if she’d stayed he’d probably start asking questions and she did not feel like discussing them with someone until she sorted herself out.

But the longer it continued, the more she was wondering if she even could.

***

_Warburton, Australia_

From the onset, Abby could tell there was something different about the little town the Chronicler was staying in. Every single alien on the outskirts still had the illusion of guards, but they were almost as motionless as statues. It was eerie, truth be told, and Abby wasn’t sure she wanted to just walk into it, even if the Chronicler had assured her that she would be safe.

But she didn’t exactly have much of a choice. She supposed it would be pretty simple. She expose herself far enough away where she could retreat if they actually were hostile. Still, she wasn’t overly keen on the idea.

_Be calm, Agent Gertrude, my soldiers will not harm you._

She almost yelped at the Chronicler’s voice suddenly appearing in her head. _Don’t do that again,_ she thought furiously, in case he was listening, but at least it was clear he was here. In fact, there was a small group of aliens coming directly towards her position. A Vitakarian soldier flanked by standard Muton soldiers.

She stayed in place, figuring they had been sent by him. Sure enough they stopped about five feet from her position. The Vitakarian inclined his head towards her. “Agent Gertrude of XCOM, follow us. The Chronicler wishes to speak to you.”

She frowned at the voice, the words were delivered in a dull monotone devoid of any semblance of expression. His eyes were impossible to read, since they were a solid blue, but the Mutons were more conventional and she could swear they looked glazed over, what she might expect a sleepwalker to have or something.

Was he controlling them even now?

“Take me to him,” she nodded, and joined the group as they escorted her into the town. It was even more unnerving as she walked around the empty buildings and houses. The entire town was dead silent, even with the dozens of aliens milling around or standing guard. Many of them turned to look at her, staring as she walked with unblinking eyes.

The atmosphere of this town was almost smothering. Something seemed badly _off_ about all of this. Mind control was one thing, she’d seen it from Patricia, but this didn’t seem to be anything like that. Not really. She didn’t know what it was, but it was something strange and disturbing. The Chronicler had some explaining to do.

The problem was that even if he _did_ have some kind of rational explanation…she wasn’t sure she could even verify that. She wasn’t a psion, and he wasn’t an idiot. She had no doubt he would exploit that somehow, yet it did seem like he actually had done as promised.

Which made this very complicated.

The Chronicler himself was sitting on a bench in the middle of a city square, reading something on his tablet. Two Andromedons stood behind him, the behemoths silent and foreboding. He set the tablet down as she approached, and greeted her with a wide smile. “Agent Gertrude! So, what do you think?”

She hesitated slightly before answering. “What did you do to them? This doesn’t look like just mind control?”

“Ah, but it _is_ ,” he answered, clasping his hands behind his back. “What you’ve no doubt seen is Patricia temporarily take control of various aliens. She has no need to tact or subtlety, all she wants is for them to kill each other. Useful, but hardly viable beyond the short term.” He gestured to the aliens around him. “True mind control, Miss Gertrude, is more subtle. It’s more than simply forcing a message into their little minds. You have to change their way of _thinking_ , you have to establish firm mental commands over time. You have to spend time and constantly exert your will over them.”

He inclined his head towards her. “And for most people, it takes days. But with the Ethereal Orb and my decades of experience, I know how to do it rather quickly. It’s pleasant not having to constantly babysit aliens telepathically. Now I give commands and they carry them out. Useful, wouldn’t you say?”

“That depends on how they’re used,” Abby answered, crossing her arms. “I’m impressed. You actually did what you said. And what is your next move? Continue gathering soldiers? Eventually someone is going to notice.”

“Oh, they will,” the Chronicler smiled. “But as for what I do next, that, I think, depends a great deal on _you_.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “I assume this refers to me telling the Commander about you or not.”

“Correct,” he nodded. “And I have changed my mind on that to a degree. I would prefer to keep working with you, agent. However that is best accomplished by having access to XCOM resources and information, both of which you can provide me access to. Look around and tell me what you see?”

Abby looked around at the aliens in the town, of all types. “Spies.” She said with a nod. “You can use them to penetrate the defenses.”

“Clever girl,” he confirmed. “They would have to be used sparingly at first, but I have no doubt more will come eventually. I have a plan for growing my own forces, but what is important to you is what I can _do_ with them. Intel gathering, Gateway locations, troop numbers, sabotage, assassination, poison; the list, Agent Gertrude, is limitless.”

“But you want me to help,” Abby said slowly. “What do you want from me?”

“Reveal me to the Commander as a…contact,” the Chronicler explained slowly. “Someone who’s in the cities and can cause damage. My psionics will remain a secret of course, but this way I can more effectively coordinate my efforts to help XCOM, and the Resistance here, of course. I would hate to accidentally ruin your plans.”

Abby thought for a moment. “The Commander is not going to trust you at first. And if you _do_ cause as much damage as you claim, then he’s going to ask questions.”

“I expect he will,” he nodded. “However, that is unimportant right now. I’m not asking much here, agent, and you stand to gain a lot more if you work with me. Quite frankly, with the Battlemaster in play, you need all the help you can get.”

Abby appraised him carefully. “And how do you know about that?”

He smiled and tapped the side of his head. “The Battlemaster is well-known in the Collective army. They spread the news of his conquest quite readily. I simply observe. So what do you say, agent? Help me liberate Australia? Or potentially doom it?”

“Cute phrasing,” Abby snorted as she thought. She still didn’t trust him, not completely. Anyone who could do… _this_ , was dangerous, and she was entirely relying on him not taking control of her here. Yet the fact that he _hadn’t_ yet told her that he probably wasn’t going mind control her. The question is whether she could do it at all without him learning of it.

But the bigger question was if she _should_.

_He’s right. We need all the help we can get._

Objectively, there wasn’t a question of working with him. It would make their operations much easier and could actually cause a great deal of damage to the aliens. Subjectively, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen afterwards if they won. This had the makings of a deal with the devil, and she _knew_ there would be some cost down the line.

_If we lose, it won’t matter in the end._

Another good point. Would it actually be better if they lost because she was too skeptical of a psion? Was she being unreasonable here? Patricia was trustworthy, why did she have to be the only one? The other XCOM psions were likely the same, and aside from manipulating EXALT, the Chronicler didn’t seem completely evil. If he _was_ , he’d have likely tried to take over the world long ago.

If he was, he wouldn’t even be bothering with giving her this choice in the first place. No, she was being paranoid here and needed to do her job. The Commander would understand, and if he ever learned, she could defend it.

Abby looked at the Chronicler and gave a single nod. “I’ll take your deal. You help us liberate Australia and I’ll keep your secret. For now. Move against XCOM or ADVENT and I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“Acceptable,” the Chronicler smiled. “I’m glad we could come to this agreement. And here.” He tossed the tablet at her which she caught. “Locations of the Gateways for Sydney and a few other cities. Give it to the Commander as a token of my authenticity. Also mention I know about the Battlemaster if he questions if they are accurate. Only those inside the cities or in ADVENT or XCOM know.”

“I will,” Abby promised, lowering the tablet. “I’ll be in contact soon.”

He gave a short melodramatic bow. “I look forward to it, Agent Gertrude. I look forward to working with XCOM.”

He probably did. Abby just hoped that she was making the right decision here, but it was done. Now she had to return and sort all of this out with Zhang in the Commander.

She was sure both of them were going to be _thrilled_.

***

_The Praesidium, Engineering Bay_

Shen had announced he had made a breakthrough in the Templar weapons, so the Commander had immediately come down to see what it was. No mention of the Shinobi-class MEC, but he didn’t expect that to be completed for some time. But if Shen was already finished with the weapons, then perhaps he would get the MEC done in short order as well.

Shen was standing over by a table with several different weapons laid on it, while engineers worked around him. Lily was also by him, surprisingly enough, and visibly brightened as he walked over. “Commander!”

He gave her a smile. “Hello, Lily. Long time no see.”

“I’m glad you came so quickly,” Shen nodded, seeming much more at ease with his daughter around him. “I think Lily here wants your opinion.”

“Oh,” he raised an eyebrow. “Did _she_ make all of these?”

Shen laughed. “Well, not exactly. However, she did draw up the designs for the weapons before you. Dimensions, styles, and she asked the soldiers of any specific additions they wanted. She’s become quite the weaponsmith recently.”

“I’ve always been,” Lily protested. “Well, medieval weapons at least.”

“Lily always had an interest in that sort of thing,” Shen explained. “Honestly I didn’t think much of it, but she sadly has more experience with melee weapon design than most people here. So I figured I’d put her work under your eye.” He paused. “Although the designs weren’t the tricky part, it was making them durable.”

“Well, now I’m curious,” the Commander said, looking towards the table of weapons. “Show me what you’ve done.”

“Get the test dummies,” Shen asked his daughter, who ran off while he turned and picked up a mace from the table. “I’ll first show off the weapons easiest to do. Maces, from what I’ve learned, only need to damage armor and only cause blunt trauma. Nothing fancy here.” He handed the flanged mace to the Commander. “Here.”

The Commander tested it, moved it around and took a few mock swings. He was completely unfamiliar with maces, but the head seemed heavy. The entire weapon appeared to be a dark steel, and nothing else. “Seems good,” he said, looking at Shen. “Alloys I presume?”

“With a MELD overlay,” Shen corrected. “The nanites were programmed to harden over it. It can be damaged, but only by our pulse weapons and plasma. We haven’t been able to break it significantly any other way. It should certainly hold up against the Battlemaster’s sword.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon,” the Commander muttered, as he saw Lily rolling over a humanoid dummy with alloy armor of some kind over it. “That for practice?” He asked.

“Yep!” Lily said with a grin. “Try it! It’s fun!”

“The armor is several centimeters thick, minimum,” Shen added as the Commander walked over to the dummy. “It should give you an idea of the damage output.”

The Commander raised the mace, which was heavier than he was used to, and brought it down on the dummy’s head with all his might. And with perhaps a little too much vigor as the ‘helmet’ completely caved in and the head was smashed into little white chunks. The Commander lifted the mace, noting that the metal was now almost stuck on the weapon. He shook it off and the remains fell to the ground.

“Perhaps I should have been gentler,” he mused, turning back to them. “Even if it won’t dent the Battlemaster’s armor, it will probably wreck anything else on the battlefield. Well done.” He looked down at Lily. “I like the design too. What did you base it off of?”

“A German Mace,” she answered proudly. “Although not as spiky as some variants. I made that one more of as a proof-of-concept, Iosif’s will be bigger.”

“Yes,” Shen chuckled. “None of the weapons are designed to the Templar specifications, those will only come after your approval. Each weapon type will be approved before being tailored. Iosif for example seemed to like it…only bigger.”

“Can’t blame him,” the Commander said. “So, what next?”

“The war hammer is essentially the same concept,” Shen said, gesturing to the double-headed hammer almost as tall as him. “Forged of alien alloys and with a hardened MELD overlay. You can test it as well, though I can guarantee you’ll receive the same result.”

“I’ll trust you on that,” the Commander dismissed with a wave. “Now, you said that was the easy part. What about the bladed weapons?”

“Lily?” Shen called, and the young girl reached for what looked like a standard longsword and handed it to him. To his surprise, the blade was almost…shimmering. Blue reflections appears and vanished on the silver blade as if it was reflecting water. “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you,” Shen warned, acutely noting his interest. “The largest problem with blades weapons is that, against any sort of defenses, they will suffer damage. They chip, split, and sometimes break. None of which are optimal.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded absentmindedly, turning the sword around in his hand. It certainly _felt_ sturdy enough. “How did you fix it?”

“By using computers,” Shen answered with a proud smile of his own. “Embedded in each sword is a small, simple OS that has different states. And the thing is, this sword has a MELD overlay, but unlike the war hammer and mace, the MELD nanites can be in multiple states. Right now, the current mode is _repair_.”

“In essence it repairs any damage to the original structure,” he continued, pointing at the blade. “The original design is programmed into their memory, so they can ‘rebuild’ it, so to speak. Although it isn’t permanent and does take nanites to accomplish. In theory you could use all the nanites and the sword would be just…well, a sword.”

“Reapplying the MELD is a simple process,” Shen reassured, adjusting his glasses. “But you should be aware there are some drawbacks here.”

The Commander lowered the weapon. “So, this has multiple states? How many more?”

“Turn the pommel,” Shen suggested. The Commander looked down at the square pommel, and noted that there was a design on each side. The one now was currently a wrench. _Repair_ , he assumed. He turned the pommel and it locked with a click once it was even and the blade suddenly turned the same dark gray steel as the blunt weapons. The pommel logo was a shield.

“That hardens the blade to an almost indestructible degree,” Shen explained as the Commander turned the blade, marveling at how it didn’t seem any heavier. “It was the first variant we developed, since we don’t want the blades breaking under the Battlemaster’s weapon. To date there is nothing, outside of pulse and plasma weaponry, that can damage the blade. Even edge-on-edge attacks don’t weaken or chip the sword.”

“And it’s just as effective as the other weapons?” The Commander asked, turning to the dummy which still had the chest plate. He drew the weapon back and stabbed into the armor. It definitely didn’t go through without resistance, but it impaled through the dummy easily enough. If it worked this well from direct penetration attacks, then it was a success to him.

“Well done,” he complimented. “Let’s see what’s next.”

He turned the pommel and this one had a lightning bolt implant. The blade suddenly reverted to its silver color, except now little bolts of electricity lined the blade, zapping in and out of existence within milliseconds. “The ARC setting,” Lily explained with a grin. “The nanites generate little jolts of electricity with each other, multiply that by a million and you have a weapon that can short out any mechanical enemy or system.”

“In theory,” Shen amended gently. “It’s worked well on our systems so far, and it would probably be best used on Andromedons, Drones, Cyberdisks and the like. One of the weaker physical blades, but I’m positive that it would stun enemies just from a single strike. Don’t discount that.”

“Better to have more options than none,” the Commander agreed, turning the pommel for a final time. This one had a flame on it. The blade suddenly turned a blazing orange. It wasn’t quite red-hot, perhaps orange-hot, but he felt no heat coming from the blade.

“The nanites generate friction together, which makes anything they touch melt,” Shen said. “The science is…complicated, but the short version is that this will melt anything it comes in contact with. It’s proven rather effective against armor, actually. Though I don’t think it would stand up to a direct hit from the Battlemaster.”

The Commander switched the blade back to the _repair_ setting and handed it back to Lily. “You outdid yourselves here, both of you. All I wanted was swords and you managed to turn that into a damn Swiss army knife.”

“We appreciate that, Commander,” Shen smiled. “The greatsword operates virtually the same way, just on a larger scale. We can also apply this technology to other blades, should it be required. Even katanas and scythes, should someone ever want it.”

The Commander snorted. “I doubt we’ll need scythes. But well done. Have you shown the Templars yet?”

“Not in action,” Lily answered. “But they know how it works.”

“I’d show them,” the Commander suggested. “It would definitely give them something to look forward to. And is the Shinobi proceeding well?”

“Still designing,” Shen shrugged. “But I’m close to completing it.”

“Good,” the Commander said. “I’d get to work on the swords for the Templars. The Battlemaster could strike any day, and I want people ready to respond.”

“With pleasure, Commander,” Lily beamed, apparently thrilled he was happy. Her joy was infectious, and he almost wished he could be that optimistic. But for right now, he would just enjoy the feeling, even if it was just an echo of the real thing.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

The gathering storm had finally broken.

Jamali had been expecting it ever since the Commander had revealed that they were actually sharing a base with a damn Ethereal, and had subsequently started taking people for some new psionic program. Then there was a lot of speculation that the aliens were going to launch another offensive in America, and specifically target Las Vegas.

The aliens had finally attacked, but much later than they had anticipated and in a completely different location.

Jamali flipped his helmet in his hands and placed it on his head. France of all places. And since France wasn’t part of ADVENT, and no one had expected such a…brazen attack there, the response was almost nothing. But XCOM was on the way, as was the rest of the French Army. ADVENT would probably respond as well, but it would take hours before they arrived.

Jamali grimaced as he grabbed his pulse rifle. The French were absolutely going to get slaughtered. The tech advantage the aliens had was too large and the French would be lucky to kill a few dozen.

Unless they just used explosives.

The good news was that there had been no reports of the Battlemaster, and they would definitely know by now if he was there. Although there was warning of some new alien construct. A floating mechanical ball if the reports were to be believed. Wonderful. Despite that, the Commander wasn’t taking chances and was sending one of his Templars along with them.

Chan he was called, an offensive psion with a massive greatsword held in his hands as he took some practice swipes. Sorry, no Chan had been very specific and called it a Zweihander, as if it made a difference. It was a massive sword that looked dangerous, and clearly forged out of alien alloys and MELD.

Chan had seemed very eager to test it out. Jamali was also reassured that Patricia was going along as well. If anyone could rally the people still alive there, it was her.

“Jamali! Hurry up!” Patricia called, and he decided it was time to stop ruminating, and prepare for the battle ahead.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 1: Organization and Structure

Subsection 1.4: ADVENT Member Nations

Overview: Countries which comprise ADVENT are known as member nations, and are afforded representation, funding, law enforcement, and additional support to ensure that each member nation is held to the highest possible standard possible; ensuring that ADVENT is strong enough to withstand any adversary or trial.

Member nations are afforded one representative in the Congress of Nations, and said representative is decided via appointment of the Head of States of a nation. However, the Head of State may take the place of a representative in certain circumstances. All representatives at all levels are expected to be of the highest caliber of candidates, and shall not engage in criminal or treasonous activity, which if ignored, will result in prosecution by the ADVENT Peacekeepers.

Member nations will be given a standing garrison, proportional to the size and population of the nations. The same will be done of the Peacekeeping forces, and the Head of State can directly petition the Executive Branch for additional support if needed. Note that while the soldiers are stationed within the nation, they do not ultimately answer to the Head of State or their cabinet, although they will be part of the leadership. All ADVENT forces ultimately answer to the Commander of the ADVENT Military and the Peacekeepers ultimately answer to the Chief of Peacekeeper Operations.

Taxes and funding directly from the State will be negotiated at the federal level, as there are multiple different variables that must be taken into account, making standardization less effective. But it will vary depending again on the size and population of the country, but ADVENT is committed to making sure every nation succeeds and will never intentionally force poor or malicious decisions on a nation. Should that happen, those responsible will be investigated and prosecuted by the Peacekeepers.

Heads of State are allowed to pick their own cabinet, although candidates must be reviewed by ADVENT Internal Affairs and Oversight to ensure the appointees are truly best suited for the job. This does not apply to levels lower than that of the Head of State, though those must choose from a pool of pre-approved candidates. The Head of State is also permitted to retain their previous title before joining ADVENT, or simply be referred to as the Head of State of a certain nation.

Finally, ADVENT member nations are expected to completely comply to all laws and decisions made by the Congress of Nations, Executive Branch and the Chancellor, and the Judicial Courts. Failure to abide by the laws established will lead to the removal of current leadership, and emergency elections for replacements. Treason and criminal activity will not be tolerated under ADVENT, especially not in the highest levels of government.


	14. The March Unrelenting

 

_Skyranger, En route to Paris, France_

Jamali swore he could feel how angry Patricia was.

Given her abilities, he wouldn’t be surprised at all if that was the case. But it was a foreign feeling to him. He was no stranger to anger and injustice, but he would describe his output as more…hot. Intense, but would fade after a few minutes and cooler heads prevailed. He was never a persuasive speaker, and always tried to stay out of situations that he knew would risk a confrontation.

Patricia, on the other hand, was as cold as ice. He felt the cold analytical anger affect him, simmering below the surface. Every thought was logical and emotionless, his thoughts were not fury at their actions, but how to methodically disembowel them violently and brutally. He thought he glimpsed thoughts from her own mind, visions of aliens being driven to insanity while she strode through the throng.

But the rest he had a sickening feeling were of his own design. Patricia apparently had the effect of drawing out the darkest parts of people, and he wasn’t entirely happy that there was a part of himself that was this…brutal. He knew he had the capability…but he’d never wanted to act on it.

Not until now.

“We’re expecting the French army to be heavily outclassed,” Patricia finally said, her arms resting on her knees in a deceptively nonchalant manner. “The French have given us the locations of where the fighting is the heaviest. We will be deploying near the Grand Palais, and the Goliath will be dropped near the Pantheon. The UFO supposedly landed at the Eiffel Tower, so that is where we will fight towards.”

Jamali noticed the hands of the soldiers in the skyranger were clenched as Patricia’s voice became harder. “We suspect they are using Gateway Transports. Only one, it seems. We fight towards them and destroy it. We take no prisoners with the exception of the leader. Kill the rest.”

“It will be a pleasure,” Catherine nodded, clenching her rifle. Jamali wasn’t surprised she sounded even harsher than Patricia. The native Frenchwoman had a much more personal reason for being here than the rest of them, which was a stark contrast to her normally friendly persona.

“What aliens are here?” Iida asked, as calm as always

“They seem to be all Vitakarians,” Patricia answered. “Likely Runianarch or Lurainian. Early reports suggest there might be something else in the Transport, but it’s likely Outsiders.”

 _“Psion Trask, we are approaching the LZ,”_ Big Sky interjected. _“It’s looking bad.”_

“Copy that,” Patricia answered calmly, standing. The rest of them quickly stood with her as she walked to the end of the skyranger, the new Templar Chan at her side. The Zweihander was held in a reverse grip, the point on the ground since Chan had no sheath and space was limited. To his eye, Chan seemed rather eager to see combat.

He stood next to Fakhr, and both shared mutual nods as they mentally prepared themselves for battle. As the skyranger dipped, Jamali found himself remarkably calm and the sounds around him slowly faded into the background. They were _there_ , but his concentration was…elsewhere.

Patricia at work, he supposed.

The skyranger ramp opened and all of them charged into the fray. It was, without a doubt, a near rout of the French forces. Human bodies in French uniforms littered the grounds and streets, burned, dismembered, and malformed by alien weapons. A few alien bodies were scattered in the streets, but the majority of the small battlefield was stained with red blood.

They had landed behind the main alien force that was advancing, and there were more coming up from the side, as the French seemed to be making a last stand in the middle of a giant intersection, hiding behind concrete barricades and what limited cover there was. Jamali instinctively fell to one knee and aimed at a Vitakarian soldier and fired. The red laser instantly slammed into its face and it fell dead.

Patricia’s body was enveloped in a shimmering, and faintly purple field of energy, and she extended her hands towards both groups of aliens, along with the snarled message. _“Kill them all_.”

The effects were almost instantaneous. The main group attacking the French suddenly began fighting amongst themselves, and the reinforcements suddenly fell to the ground, screaming in apparent pain. Jamali immediately moved towards the crippled reinforcements and fired short pulse laser blasts at the writing bodies. Fakhr and Liliyane assisted him in executing the hapless aliens and after a few minutes all the bodies stopped wriggling.

Jamali turned to see how the much larger alien group was being handled, and then saw the results of giving Chan a sword. If Patricia was lightly covered by psionic energy, Chan was engulfed in purple flames. These extended to his Zweihander which was wreathed in purple energy and seemed to only be making the damage worse.

Chan cut his way through the infighting Vitakarians with an emphasis on brutality. The swipes were wide enough to cut through multiple aliens at once, and he seemed to like leaving the ones not killed instantly to bleed to death on the ground. While decapitating a Borelian with one hand, he raised the opposite one and purple energy shot out from it and ravaged a couple of Vitakarians in the faces.

The rest of the XCOM soldiers assisted in executing the wounded Vitakarians not cut up by Chan and his sword. The French had stopped firing, seemingly not wanting to risk wounding the Templar that was cutting through the alien horde, which was still being affected by Patricia, and not even able to focus on the blade-wielding soldier as he cut them to pieces.

All of them advanced through the remnants of the alien force, who were incapable of retreating. Scattered and crazed by fighting each other, it was almost too easy for Jamali to pick off strays and the rest of them performed just as well. Catherine and Blake rushed to the French line, presumably to help treat injuries, while Patricia strode up to a Vitakarian soldier who was screaming on the ground, and roughly grabbed it by the head, and stood there for a few seconds.

Once she was done, she threw the soldier down and pulled out her gauss pistol and shot her in the head. A few more minutes of slaughtering the aliens, and the battlefield was almost silent. The psionic energy around both Patricia and Chan had faded, and Jamali noted that the dark gray of Chan’s sword was smudged and black.

“I have the location where the UFO is,” Patricia stated, as she marched over to the French line. “We fight towards it on our own. It doesn’t appear that the aliens have forces that can combat me; at least they didn’t tell the soldiers about it.”

Catherine rushed up with what appeared to be a ranking French officer who looked both parts relieved they had arrived, and terrified after seeing what eight XCOM soldiers had done. “I assume he is the ranking offer?” Patricia asked, looking to Catherine.

“Yes,” she answered. “He-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Patricia interrupted, raising a hand. “Tell him I know where the UFO is and we’re going to destroy it. Tell him to have his superiors contact ADVENT if by some miracle they haven’t. We move out once you deliver that.”

Catherine quickly translated it to the officer while Patricia turned to them. “We need to wrap this up quickly. I have a feeling this isn’t a true attack. The information I extracted from the soldier’s mind indicated they were to cause as much damage to the military as possible and leave. This is a diversion to something.”

Jamali could easily imagine the scowl under Chan’s helmet. “You get that, Commander?”

 _“I did,”_ he confirmed grimly. _“However we don’t have anything else to go on yet. Everything is normal.”_

“I’ll keep you appraised,” Patricia stated as Catherine jogged up to them, signaling her readiness with a nod. “We move out now. I’ll let you know before we engage, but I don’t expect these aliens will pose a challenge to me.”

And with that, they marched off, Patricia leading the charge with the Templar at her side, the blade already soaked in golden blood.

***

_The Cultro_

“XCOM has entered the battle,” the CODEX system informed the Battlemaster as he flew over the desert sands, a small fleet of alien transports behind him. “Lura’irinena’borelia has reported that Patricia Trask is leading the attack, and a Goliath-class MEC is also fighting against her forces. In addition, there appears to be a few types of XCOM soldier. A psion wielding a greatsword, presumably in conjunction with his abilities. More information has yet to be obtained. At this point they are quickly marching toward the Gateway Transport.”

Well, that was unexpected.

Aegis was likely behind such an idea. He was rather impressed, honestly. These new XCOM soldiers had to be a direct response to him. Pale imitations of what a Battlemaster was, for sure, but it was an attempt that he was pleased they had undertaken. Perhaps it was foolish to dismiss them immediately, but he had faced down legions of Synthesized hordes, the best militaries of far more advanced species, and even once a Director Flagship.

At best they would make his conquest here more interesting. Hopefully.

“Time to Las Vegas?” He asked the CODEX.

Her golden figure flashed briefly. “Ten minutes. Additionally, we have officially attracted the attention of ADVENT forces. Defenses are likely being raised.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Order Irinena to retreat and deploy the Gatekeeper. The Creator has assured me that it can…disrupt…telepaths. I am curious to see if that is the case. Also order her to destroy the Eiffel Tower.”

“At once, Battlemaster.” She flashed again and disappeared. A few seconds later the forms of Disciple-7 and J’Loran appeared.

“Begin your assault,” he commanded. “I am close to Las Vegas and XCOM will respond soon. Take the cities and wipe out all the soldiers. We have no need of prisoners today.”

Disciple-7, in his full armor and helmet, gave a brief nod. _“At once, Battlemaster. Portland will fall today.”_

 _“As will Seattle,”_ J’Loran added. _“Burn Las Vegas to the ground. J’Loran out.”_

The two forms vanished and the CODEX figure appeared once more in front of him. “Initial scans of the city do not reveal any trace of nuclear weaponry or activity. However, there are large amounts of high-explosive materials laced throughout the city and perimeter. In addition, there appear to be a minimum of fifty thousand soldiers heavily entrenched in the city. I have also detected multiple mechanical manned and unmanned platforms. Aircraft is limited, but air support is likely.”

Good, the Humans had actually prepared for a fight, and he was curious to see what, if anything, they had learned from their first engagement with him. Many of his soldiers would likely die today, but he certainly would not. Overall, it was on the surface looking to be invigorating if nothing else.

Two armies facing each other in battle. It had been too long since he had participated in such, and hopefully XCOM didn’t disappoint him when they finally appeared.

A low growl reached his ears and he glanced down at the tiger Quisilia had gifted him with, now very much improved. Farath, he’d decided to call him, since Quisilia insisted he needed to name it. The Battlemaster had grudgingly accepted that maybe the animal wouldn’t be as useless as he feared, now that Fectorian had turned it into a cybernetic terror, and it was admittedly nice to have a somewhat loyal companion that didn’t need much.

Of course the creature had tried to attack him several times, to no effect of course, but it had eventually been broken in and was a rather efficient killer, and Fectorian had made sure that the creature was conditioned to never attack again, and had included specific code phrases he could use if he absolutely needed to take direct control. Although Fectorian wasn’t sure that would be necessary, since he did note that this creature was fairly intelligent.

 _Intimidating_ was the word the Battlemaster would have personally chosen, given the modifications. He wasn’t sure of the exact procedures Fectorian had used, but he was aware that specific implants had been inserted into various sections of the tiger’s body, which allowed heavy armor to be attached and removed at will. The armor itself covered the entire body and legs, while leaving the pads of the feet and tail untouched.

It was a sleek black, and the armor was configured in such a way that allowed a full range of motion, and the Battlemaster knew Fectorian had also cybernetically enhanced the bones and joints to allow it to carry the additional weight, and replaced elements like the teeth and claws with alloy alternatives which would allow penetration of ADVENT soldier armor.

Needless to say, the Battlemaster had been pleased with the result, and for the most part, Farath acted the same aside from not attacking him randomly. Which he appreciated. But today would be the first real test, both for the animal and Fectorian’s work, since the engineer had himself declared it an experiment.

The Battlemaster rested an armored hand on Farath’s head, as they waited to reach their location. The CODEX appeared once more. “We are outside the city perimeter. Landing now and sending orders to remaining transports. Authorization?”

“Granted.” The Battlemaster declared with a nod.

The CODEX vanished and the _Cultro_ dipped and within half a minute, had come to a stop and the Battlemaster felt it rest on the ground. The metal panel over the exit slid up and the multicolored barrier dissipated and the Battlemaster felt a rush of hot air enter the Overseer. Gripping his sword, he marched out into the desert with the shining city in the distance, his feline warrior at his side.

In the distance, he spotted the ADVENT encampments. In sight of them, he raised his sword in a salute, thousands of alien soldiers behind him disembarking. The _Cultro_ rose and flew up into the air. The Battlemaster lowered his sword and spoke into his link with the CODEX. “Begin the transmission.”

***

_The Praesidium, Mission Control_

So he’d been right in suspecting that the Paris attack wasn’t what it seemed.

The Battlemaster wasn’t an idiot. He knew there was no way to hold a city like Paris without an actual army, and while the French were horribly outmatched, ADVENT was marching to the city and XCOM was already there and annihilating their forces. It seemed to be going exceptionally, which made him immediately suspicious.

Which was why he and Jackson had decided to prepare two additional squads and had sent them off to the Citadel if the Battlemaster decided to attack in America again. The worst that would happen is that nothing happened and this was just a poor tactical decision by the Battlemaster. But if the Battlemaster _did_ attack, XCOM could be the difference between victory or defeat.

Jackson echoed his thoughts. “I’m glad we sent the skyrangers.”

The Commander only nodded as the hologlobe lit up with reports of the cities coming under attack. Seattle and Portland again, and Las Vegas as the Battlemaster had warned. The good news was that every city was prepared for an attack and wouldn’t fall easily, especially with XCOM support. However, they had only two skyranger teams, and there were three cities.

So choices had to be made. Seattle would get support, since the city was heavily contested, and the video on the screen now playing confirmed that Las Vegas would be receiving the second squad. The video had suddenly begun streaming on every social media and video streaming service minutes ago, and it was providing a bird’s eye view of the ADVENT defenders, and the aliens marching on their position.

Lead by the Battlemaster.

The Templars were going to get a trial by fire today. There were standing orders to retreat if too many died, but the Commander wondered if even the Templars would last that long, given how quickly the Battlemaster could kill his enemies. But it shouldn’t be a slaughter like San Francisco.

Hopefully.

ADVENT was already mobilizing the Air Force to bomb the alien armies to dust, with plans and contingencies that had been developed being put into motion. Even if it was futile, there were plans to deal with the Battlemaster, even if the usefulness of them was questionable. But it wasn’t as though there was a choice.

Commander Christiaens was also in constant communication with Zhang in the Situation Room, which he would be heading to in a few minutes, and no doubt the Chancellor was being appraised of the situation. He pursed his lips. Win or lose, this was going to likely have a net loss for ADVENT in terms of support and morale. Full-scale attacks on major cities in such a short time would be difficult for civilians to endure without some kind of damage.

No question about it now. If Seattle fell, Canada would have to give up their morally superior attitude and play ball with ADVENT. The United States could not be lost, and there needed to be significant steps taken to prevent that. Hopefully the Prime Minister would understand that, though given how Saudia described him, that didn’t seem likely.

Damn civilians.

If he thought Saudia was being unfair in their meeting, he was _really_ not going to like her when she was angry. Unlikely most people in power, Saudia was not hesitant to make _extremely_ controversial decisions. And if he made himself her enemy, his days in power were numbered.

That was a worst-case scenario though. Portland could probably be held, even without XCOM support. Seattle might be able to be as well, depending on the enemy composition and force size. Las Vegas was unlikely at _best_ , now that the Battlemaster was in play with an entire army. But if the majority of the army could be killed, that was as close to a victory as they could get.

Jackson nodded at a voice coming in through her headset. “Dodger and Marlin Teams are approaching the cities. We should move to the Situation Room.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded as he turned to leave Mission Control. “Have Zhang prepare the armor cams and holotable. And keep that video running in the background. If the Battlemaster wants to give us more information, we’ll take it.”

Jackson conveyed his instructions, a hand on her headset earpiece, as they made their way to the Situation Room.

***

_Las Vegas, United States of America_

The Battlemaster was immediately besieged by thousands of gauss bullets and tank rounds flying at him. All of them bounced off his armor or missed him entirely. The majority of the forces behind him were Andromedons, and behind those were Muton Grenadiers and Runianarch Demolitionists.

He had come to destroy the city, and that was what he was going to do.

ADVENT was formed up in defensive lines of a dozen soldiers behind a chest-high black barricade, and those were scattered along the perimeter of the city. Tanks were behind those, and they were firing fairly rapidly, not always at him, but assuredly at the army at his back. No point in wasting time.

The Battlemaster leapt up into the air, picked a front-line group of soldiers, and charged, psionic energy flowing off of him and an armored hand tightened into a fist. It landed in the chest of an ADVENT soldier, caving in her armor and he decapitated two more with a single swipe. He immediately transitioned into several quick slices that dismembered several more ADVENT soldiers.

“Blow it!” Someone screamed.

The Battlemaster knew instantly that he needed to get out of the immediate vicinity and quickly dashed backwards as the barricade itself exploded with several bright explosions, killing one of the remaining soldiers, and throwing the survivors to the ground, shrapnel riddling their armor. With a flourish of his blade, the Battlemaster turned his attention to the next group, who was now focusing on him.

Well, they were learning at least.

The Officers were shouting orders and frantically reorganizing soldiers in the back rows, but he decided to deal with that later. He dashed towards the second group, performed several quick slices and dashed away, leaving several dismembered corpses in his wake. A few seconds later he charged forward again, grabbed the heads of two soldiers with free hands and smashed their skulls into the barricade with enough force to preemptively set off the explosives which he immediately dashed away from, though feeling the rush of heat and wind in his wake.

He was suddenly throw back several feet from a tank blast, and he quickly spun to face the threat from the back. ADVENT Rocketeers were also firing grenade launchers towards him, and instead of dashing out of the way, he raised a hand and telekinetically caught the explosives in the air, and sent them back at their source with a flick of his hand.

He ignored the screams and explosions as he surveyed the new battlefield. His army was close enough now that they were beginning to exchange plasma fire with the ADVENT gauss weapons. Lances of green were striking dozens of soldiers every second, and even when the Andromedon line was damaged, they were simply phased out and replaced by a healthy soldiers while the Battlefield Engineers fixed the others.

The Runianarch and Muton soldiers were far behind the line, and were firing their own explosives up in the air, lighting up multiple ADVENT positions and blowing up valuable vehicles and barricades. “Light them up!” One officer screamed right before his life ended with a stab to the face.

The ground was suddenly rocked as the desert behind him exploded. Nearly half of the front-line Andromedon force was on the ground, helmets broken and armor sparking. Most of the Andromedons hit were clearly dead, and there were at minimum several hundred Mutons and Vitakara who had also perished.

Restraint. Impressive.

ADVENT was smart enough to know that explosives would probably not hurt him, so they hadn’t wasted them on him, and instead waited for the army to step over them and then detonate. He’d best be careful if he didn’t want to lose too many more soldiers. He was already underestimating their forces, best not to do it anymore.

Disruption in the back lines was needed, and so he charged towards the tank line which immediately began trying to maneuver away from him, to no avail. With one palm turned over, he telekinetically lifted one tank into the air, and threw it towards an ADVENT barricade which exploded in a shower of fire and metal.

He dashed toward another ADVENT line, grabbed one of the Rocketeers and threw her at another tank and she hit with enough force to explode, destroying the main barrel and rendering it inoperable. He then methodically made his way through the line of tanks, cutting off the barrels or damaging the tanks in other ways, stabbing in vital areas or reducing mobility.

He’d been sure to study the schematics after San Francisco.

Farath was also proving rather effective against the ADVENT soldiers, with bullets washing off his battle armor like water, and he seemed to be enjoying ripping the throats out of various ADVENT soldiers, while the others either tried to frantically retreat or fire at the armored feline. The cat was also smart enough to at least try to dodge explosives, although the armor was certainly dented and scorched, indicating that he had taken a few explosive hits.

 _“Battlemaster, ADVENT aircraft approaching. Fighter and bomber class,”_ The CODEX informed him though their link.

Would they risk airstrikes so close to friendly forces? Probably not a good idea to find out. “Request a squadron of Sectoid Fighters,” he ordered as he stabbed a Gunner through the chest. “All forces, charge the ADVENT line!”

A roar overhead caught his attention and he saw a squad of ADVENT fighters shoot overhead, missiles releasing and speeding towards his approaching army. Most of them took out multiple Andromedons, though thankfully mostly the damaged ones that were shambling forward, driven on only by their AI systems.

Still, they were already swooping around for another round. The Battlemaster gripped his blade tightly in his hands as he cut through another line of ADVENT soldiers, his blade now crimson and splattered with stained sand. He’d made a mistake disregarding the air force they had, seeing as how they hadn’t used it well initially. A mistake he would not repeat after this.

ADVENT also appeared to be retreating into the city, and he noted it was towards the apparently famous Las Vegas Strip, the heart of the city. It was clearly a strategic retreat, since it couldn’t yet be said they had lost enough to warrant a full one. Another aircraft roared overhead, this one the distinctive shape of a bomber.

The Battlemaster watched as a hatch opened on the belly of it, and dozens of small bombs fell out, and a bright line of explosions followed, one that killed hundreds more instantly and wounded even more from the shrapnel. More fatally damaged Andromedons rose from the sands, like metallic zombies as they resumed attacking retreating ADVENT forces further into the city.

 _“Air support has arrived,”_ the CODEX informed him as a dozen Sectoid crafts suddenly sped overhead and began engaging the ADVENT forces, but the Battlemaster saw more of the Human fighters flying in. It was going to result in a victory, but it would likely be a more costly one than he was anticipating.

He dashed towards various stragglers, executing them with single strokes of his sword, and the army behind him was now at his side, far smaller than before. From a simple visual standpoint, he had lost at least a third of his forces, even if the casualties ADVENT had suffered were equal or greater. But now they had the advantage, and destruction was the goal.

“Begin razing the city,” the Battlemaster ordered the demolitionists and grenadiers as he slowly advanced forward, crimson cape flapping in the wind. “ADVENT will be dealt with.”

The ground began shaking as pristine, expensive buildings and hotels began being bombarded with plasma explosives, and Contamination Operatives poisoned the areas around the buildings, which would render them uninhabitable for decades.

And the army behind him marched forward, unrelenting in their quest for victory, led by the invincible Ethereal who was now only waiting for the inevitable challenge by XCOM.

***

_Paris, France_

“They’re falling back,” Jamali noted as he saw the Vitakara retreating through the streets, those that were either ignored or out of the range of Patricia’s mind control. “Why?”

“I would guess they don’t have a special counter to psions,” Iida said as she shot a Vitakarian in the leg, and then finished him off with a bolt to the head. “But I don’t like it either.”

“We’re getting close,” Patricia interrupted, as the Eiffel Tower loomed close by in the distance. “Six Dath’Haram are about to ambush you, Chan. Should I intervene?”

The Templar was finishing off a Borelian, stabbing it through the heart, psionic energy rolling off the blade. “Only if they fight you,” he stated as he pulled the blade from the body and turned to face the new threats as they leapt down from the buildings. These were the green-skinned Vitakara, Dath’Haram, covered in dark green clothing interspersed with silver armor coverings on the chest, arms and legs.

In their hands they held blades of their own, straight ones with no hilt. Almost medieval like were it not for the ornate handles and that the blades had been clearly covered in some kind of red fluid. Right now Jamali couldn’t tell if it was some kind of poison or blood, but it was apparent that these aliens knew how to use them.

Two of them scored hits on the back of Chan, though those bounced off the armor, and he retaliated by blasting one of them in the face with psionic energy from the raised hand, and began fighting off the other three with his blade. The Dath’Haram quickly realized that they faced the problem of their blades being too weak to stand up for long.

Perhaps if Chan’s blade wasn’t awash in purple flame, they could have prolonged the duel, but as it stood, each clash was visibly weakening the temperament of the metal. There were gouges and scorch marks on the metal after each blade met with Chan’s Zweihander. From what he could tell, they appeared to be mostly assassin weapons, not supposed to be used for any real dueling. They seemed too thin and short to be of any real use.

Two of them made the mistake of trying to attack Patricia who simply gestured at them, and they fell to the ground, writhing and screaming in the high-pitched alien wails. Jamali and Fakhr executed both of them with quick shots to the head. The remaining Dath’Haram were certainly trying to kill Chan, but it was simply not going to happen.

With a wide swing, Chan cut through both the blade the alien was using, and subsequently, his head. The momentum of the swing carried over to the next alien who got out of the way, but not fast enough before Chan raised his right hand and the Dath’Haram was suddenly engulfed by purple energy. The last alien he finished off with a quick stab to the heart after shattering the blade of the Dath’Haram with a strike of his sword.

All the aliens dead, they proceeded towards the location of the UFO, and finally came out into the area of the Eiffel Tower, the Gateway Transport landed right in front of it. And guarding it were at least several hundred Vitakara of various types. All of whom were shouting and pointing at the new arrivals.

“Cover!” Patricia shouted as their area was swarmed with plasma weapons fire within seconds. Jamali slid into a small concrete column, and most of the other soldiers followed suit. He heard Catherine scream as a several plasma bolts hit her in the armor, and the small gap in her shoulder. Not fatal, but she was clearly in pain as she pulled herself to a short concrete block.

“I’m fine!” She wheezed as she calmly pulled out her med-kit and began spraying the sizzling wounds. Jamali did actually believe her. If there was anyone who could say that after being shot, it would be a medic.

Patricia was once more distorted from drawing upon psionic energy of her own. “Give me a second,” she advised as she stood. “There are more here than I thought. I want to try something.”

Plasma bolts flying all around her, she extended a hand towards the mass of barricaded and entrenched aliens, and as the bolts became ever more accurate, she closed a fist and Jamali could almost swear he heard a deafening _snap_ echo across the entire area. He glanced over to see Liliyane shake her head, and Fakhr and Blade exchange looks of confusion. Iida inhaled sharply and the purple energy enshrining Chan flickered and he stiffened like a statue.

Everything went silent for one brief, small, second.

Then madness broke out.

Jamali watched in fascinated horror as the once united aliens suddenly turned into shrieking crazed maniacs. Some of them still continued to attack XCOM, but the shots were wild and didn’t even seem close to intentional. No, they were focused on attacking _each other_. But this clearly wasn’t the same as Patricia _directing_ them to turn on themselves.

She appeared to have quite literally driven them insane.

Liliyane turned to glance at Patricia who now slowly lowered her arm, and quickly looked away. “Shit.”

“They’ll be occupied and should pose little threat,” Patricia stated calmly as she motioned them to move towards the UFO. “Catherine, how are your wounds.”

“Fine,” she grunted, walking noticeably stiffer, even if her rifle was at the ready. “Won’t be as fast as normal, but I’ll live.”

“Acceptable,” Patricia nodded, as she gestured as Vitakara in their way collapsed onto the ground, and the soldiers only spending brief seconds shooting them in the heads. Jamali almost considered it a mercy at this point. “I’d prefer we take the Gateway intact, but if need be, we destroy it. Expect Outsiders.”

“I’m curious how they’ll stand up to this,” Chan commented as he stabbed downwards on a neutralized Borelian. “Psionic-“ He stiffened, and fell to one knee. Patricia’s also calm walk turned to a shuffle and she rested a hand on her helmet.

“Patricia?” Iida demanded, moving forward to grab an arm to steady her, while Jamali grabbed the opposite one. “What’s wrong?”

“Look!” Fakhr shouted, raising her rifle. Out of the UFO came four massive Outsiders, and in the center was a…floating ball?

That’s what it seemed to be, anyway. A perfect white sphere with a glowing orange ‘eye’ in the middle. The ground under it was slightly distorted from the propulsion systems likely installed, but it didn’t appear to be anything more than that. It moved effortlessly through the air, oddly graceful as it swooped to a stop and appeared to notice them.

“What the hell?” Chan gasped, grunting and grasping the Zweihander with two hands. “What’s _wrong_ with that thing? Patricia, can you feel it?”

Patricia had stabilized, and was, for the first time, reaching for her heavy autorifle. “I can feel it,” she said, her voice still slightly distorted. “It’s interfering with my psionics. I think it’s overwhelming me by psionically projecting its state over the entire area.”

Jamali froze. “That thing is _psionic_?”

“I think so,” Patricia said slowly as the odd alien squad began moving towards them. “And it’s screaming.”

***

_Las Vegas, United States of America_

Even with three Templars in the squad, Nuan did not have a good feeling about this mission. As far as she could tell, the squad had been designed specifically to counter the Battlemaster, and besides the three Templars, Iosif, Karen and Carmelita, there were the two snipers, Cassandra and Esinam, and two infantry for dealing with the other aliens, Antoni and Aya.

And herself, who would have the distinct pleasure of testing out some of the new grenade types, and the effectiveness of them against the Battlemaster. There was some kind of irony that despite her efforts at trying to stay alive, she was getting thrown into against perhaps the most dangerous being in the galaxy.

Armed with _grenades_.

Which she would normally consider fairly reliable, had she forgotten that the Battlemaster was a telekinetic and could turn them away with a gesture. She supposed that was what the Templars were here for: to distract him from the other XCOM squad members.

“What is the status on the advance?” Karen asked, one of her short swords resting idly in her hand, a cold dark steel. They were unlike any that Nuan had seen before, shorter than most swords, and they lacked a guard of any kind. Probably made it easier for Karen to telekinetically throw them.

“ADVENT is fighting back, but they’ve pushed their way a quarter down the Strip and are expanding outward,” Iosif answered grimly, the head of his mace resting on the ground. “They are also destroying everything in their way. The Battlemaster is at the front as expected.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Cassandra asked, her sniper rifle resting against her knees, nodding towards Esinam beside her. “Target the Battlemaster as well or assist ADVENT?”

“Assist ADVENT at the beginning,” Iosif ordered. “We need to halt their advance, and the three of us can deal with the Battlemaster. Nuan, Antoni, and Aya, the three of you stay back and hold the line against the aliens, Nuan, if you see an opportunity, use your grenades.”

Nuan swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Overseer.”

“I am best able to face the Battlemaster one-on-one,” Iosif continued, raising a palm and a small purple shield manifested before them as he made his point. “I can take hits even if I’ll try to avoid them. Karen, you’ll try and keep him in place with your weapons and telekinesis and Carmelita…” he glanced over at the final Templar as if not sure what to do. “Hit his flanks when he is distracted. I’ve seen you kill pretty much anything at close range, so see if you can add an Ethereal to your list.”

Nuan had been uneasy around the woman for a while now, ever since their first heated exchange. She had looked downright nice compared to the armored terror before Nuan now. Her armor was night black, with the small visor in her helmet a pale white. Several high-explosive grenades were strapped to her waist, and on her back was her alloy cannon and in her hands was an actual _flail_ of all weapons, which Nuan didn’t entirely understand.

Combined with her Iron Skin and Stinger modification, she was walking death for anything close to her.

But still, a _flail_?

 _“Heads up,”_ Burning Sky informed them as the skyranger suddenly dipped. _“We’re coming in hot. Can’t stay long on the ground, explosions are everywhere. There’s a massive dogfight above as well. Guess ADVENT remembered they have planes.”_

The lights flashed to a solid red and Iosif stood, and they all prepared to disembark. Nuan was beside Karen, who pulled out her second sword and held it in a reverse grip. The skyranger shuddered, and the sounds of screaming, gauss weapons and plasma suddenly became audible. One hand gripping his mace, Iosif raised the free one and a shimmering purple barrier appeared in front of them.

“Advance!” He ordered as the ramp opened up and they charged out into the streets.

“Moving to higher ground!” Esinam called, speaking for the first time as he and Cassandra ran towards opposite buildings to establish their positions.

“Copy!” Iosif acknowledged as ADVENT realized that XCOM was here. There were some audible cheers, quickly drowned out by the constant barrage of explosions in the distance. Nuan almost stumbled from the shockwaves in the ground every few seconds as she took in the scene before her.

She had never been to Vegas, and only knew it by reputation. It was never a place she ever wanted to visit, but she had to admit it was a beautiful city, if drowning in excess at times. And it said something that even in the midst of a battle, it still retained some of its magnificence. But only where the aliens hadn’t touched it yet.

What ADVENT controlled was simply marred, broken windows and scorched walls disturbed the hotels and casinos around them. There was even a small amusement park, she noticed. But in the distance, the aliens were leaving nothing behind.

Every building that wasn’t blown apart and collapsed was on fire, and that fire was spreading. She winced as a hotel in the distance collapsed, shaking the ground in a deafening crash. The massive black pyramid structure she’d seen pictures of was completely ruined, a smoking and deformed structure of black metal and glass.

And the aliens themselves were still advancing, and she got her first glimpse of the Battlemaster. He towered over even the Andromedons behind him, and somehow seemed even taller in person. His charging ability was just as terrifying, as he seemed to move between doomed groups to soldiers within seconds. She gripped her weapon tighter as she saw him kill an Officer and three other soldiers within five seconds with a few swipes of the massive bloody sword he held in his hands.

“Let’s get started,” she heard Carmelita mutter as she reached for her alloy cannon. “Engage, Overseer?”

“Let me get his attention first,” Iosif ordered, stopping in the middle of the street, the psionic barrier protecting the ADVENT line on the Strip and the soldiers beside him. The Battlemaster had definitely noticed now, and was just standing there, waiting. “Get into cover,” he ordered the non-Templars while Karen and Carmelita flanked him. “Don’t engage unless you have an opportunity.”

Nuan nodded and dashed behind an ADVENT barricade, and Antoni and Aya did the same, roughly spread out across the ADVENT line. Iosif let the shield drop when they were in position and twirled his mace in a flourish, until the head was pointed at the opposite army. “Battlemaster!”

The massive Ethereal glanced behind him and raised a free fist and the Andromedons stopped advancing, though still continued firing. Nuan thought she saw one of them give a slight nod, and almost immediately a few Battlefield Engineers began rushing forward, carrying those shield generators she knew had been used in Japan.

The gap between the alien and ADVENT line was still large, the entire width of the Strip and at least twenty meters between the armies. The Battlemaster clearly wanted some room to properly duel the Templars. The armored Ethereal took a forward stance, his own weapon raised in a salute. “Come, XCOM, show me what Aegis has taught you.”

Iosif gestured, and the Templars beside him immediately sprang into action. Karen nodded towards Nuan who pulled out a smoke grenade and tossed it to her, who telekinetically caught it and then blasted the grenade towards the Battlemaster, who just stood calmly by as the smoke engulfed him as Carmelita leapt towards him, firing her alloy cannon already.

Iosif’s entire body was covered in a personal psionic shield as he sprinted forward, gesturing towards Carmelita as the Battlemaster made his first move, and sliced at her. His blade was stopped cold by the small purple square that appeared in front of it, and he responded by extending a lower hand and Carmelita was suddenly blasted against a concrete wall form a telekinetic throw.

He immediately turned his attention towards Iosif who was preparing a first rapid strike, likely on one of the legs since the Battlemaster towered over him. The Battlemaster responded by performing a deceptively fast slash against him and Iosif barely managed to turn the blade upwards, deflecting it towards the sky.

Karen had gone around the other side of the Battlemaster, and now her swords were somehow covered in electricity, sparking with blue discharges and she telekinetically tossed one towards the Battlemaster which naturally deflected away, but it did seem to have briefly startled him as he spun to her position, of which she had already moved away from.

In the meantime, ADVENT and the aliens were still exchanging fire, less so than before for fear of hitting the ones in the middle. The Andromedons were establishing a red shield that provided ample cover, while allowing them to shoot back. Nuan saw that ADVENT was immediately rotating out the regular infantry, and replacing them with Grenadiers and Rocketeers.

She nodded in approval, she couldn’t be too distracted by the fight taking place in front of her.

Iosif was keeping the Battlemaster busy, always attempting to strike wherever he could, and always blocked or dodged by the Battlemaster who still seemed content to not use his charge abilities, or any more telekinesis beyond the blast against Carmelita.

That worried her.

Carmelita herself was doing exactly what she was ordered, flanking the Battlemaster when he was focused on Iosif and Karen. She now had her flail in hand and was continually attempting quick strikes with it when she tried quick leap-by attacks. She scored several hits, but only on the heavily armored back, and as far as Nuan could tell, she was doing no damage whatsoever.

Karen was still trying her tactic of throwing her electrified blades, but it was clear the Battlemaster was getting close to ignoring her. While not even looking at her, he raised a free hand while attempting a downward strike at Iosif and telekinetically caught the sword in mid-air, then sent it _back_ slow enough to clearly mock her.

Carmelita tried another leaping flank attack and this time with lightning speed the Battlemaster thrust out with free hands at Iosif and Karen, the former of whom managed to resist the blast, but was briefly stunned, and sending the latter several feet back until she telekinetically stabilized herself. Immediately after that he spun and caught Carmelita in the air, and _charged,_ reappearing a short distance away with Carmelita slammed into a nearby building, cracking it where she’d impacted.

The Battlemaster must have charged again, as he appeared once more in the center of the street, two of the three Templars briefly incapacitated and a low rumble reached her ears through the exchanged fire between the armies.

Laughter. The Ethereal was _laughing_.

Dread threatened to take over as the Battlemaster almost mockingly walked towards Iosif who prepared once more to defend as Carmelita shakily rose and Karen was clearly trying to figure out how to be effective.

This, Nuan concluded, was _not_ going well.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

“Deploy!” Creed ordered and all of them charged out into a battlefield that was far larger than any Oliver had ever seen before. Entire buildings had been leveled in the constant siege between alien and ADVENT forces, and the other side had the oppressive barrier of Andromedon energy shields protecting them.

There were small windows where the Andromedons and other aliens were fighting through, but there was a clear advantage towards the aliens, even if ADVENT had established an equally long black metal barricade, and was also using the buildings still standing as bases and establishments. It was a black metal wall manned by men and women constantly.

The no-man’s land in the center was nothing but charred and destroyed rubble and concrete. Rotting corpses of alien and human bodies were laid in the center, no side willing to attempt to recover their dead in the face of gauss and plasma fire. But now the aliens were launching a full attack again and ADVENT was just as willing to defend.

“I’m getting into position!” Lesedi called and she immediately jumped onto the nearby wall of a building and began climbing up. Oliver would have found it strange at any other time, but he didn’t care as plasma fire was uncomfortably close by. The ADVENT soldiers and Officers made room for all of them as they charged up to the barricade, and Oliver got a good look at the actual situation.

The Andromedon line behind the shield was interspersed with Muton soldiers, and he could unfortunately see there were a lot of them. Although it was worse since hovering above the shield were deployed Cyberdisks, raining blazing projectiles down upon them.  Above the sky there were full dogfights in motion as ADVENT jets shot at UFO fighters, although the UFOs seemed to currently have the upper hand.

“Strategy?” Oliver called to Creed, who was beginning to fire at one of the Andromedons with his pulse rifle.

“Take down the shield,” Creed stated, as their Rocketeer, Nio, took aim at the one of the shield projectors. “Gloria, prepare to barrage the line.”

 _“Copy,”_ Gloria Page, one of the new MEC pilots answered. _“Establishing position.”_

Oliver glanced back at the massive machine as she planted the feet of her Ballista-Class MEC in the ground, and raised her arms, and the rocket launchers on her shoulders began to prime in preparation for the order. Creed nodded toward Matthew. “Take it out.”

“With pleasure,” Matthew stated, a smile clear in his voice. “Allison, some protection?”

“On it,” Allison nodded, and extended her hand, psionic energy manifesting around it. Matthew was then encased in a shimmering psionic shield and stepped out onto the battlefield. He immediately attracted attention, and was immediately shot at by Cyberdisk rounds and plasma bolts, the latter of which were simply absorbed by the shield, and the former he telekinetically stopped in the air.

He extended a hand towards one of the Cyberdisks, as if grabbing it. The metal around the machine groaned and sparked, and Oliver watched in fascination as it was slowly crumpled into a ball of fluid and metal. He threw his arm to the ground, and the wreck was thrown into the bottom of the shield generators, and the entire area around the generator flickered momentarily.

“Lesedi! Jose! Nio! Fire!” Creed commanded. Nio and Jose fired his rocket at the weakened area and Lesedi began taking shots at the Battlefield Engineers that were coming to assist, driving them back momentarily as the rocket destroyed another shield generator, and then an entire section was suddenly offline.

Matthew extended his hands to another Cyberdisk and repeated the procedure, and another section of the shield was collapsed. “Barrage their position!” Creed ordered as the now-exposed aliens began scrambling back. The ground was wracked with tremors and booms filled the air as Gloria unloaded her arsenal on the exposed aliens.

Oliver felt some measure of satisfaction as he watched the missiles rain down upon the Mutons and Andromedons, most of them destroyed beyond repair or recovery. Then the aliens appeared to switch tactics entirely. All of the nearby Cyberdisks retracted into disks and flew behind enemy lines.

 _“Potential issue,”_ Lesedi reported worriedly. _“Muton Elites incoming, and Berserkers. They started reorganizing once the shield began coming down. I just couldn’t see until now.”_

“How many?” Matthew demanded, as he lifted massive concrete chunks and tossed them at the enemy line.

 _“At least twenty Elites,”_ Lesedi answered, another Muton falling from one of her shots. _“Shit. Ten Berserkers at least. We might have made a mistake bringing that shield down. They definitely know we’re here.”_

“We can handle that,” Allison said, still focusing on protecting Matthew. “But the Berserkers need to be stopped. I can’t maintain this while moving.”

“Ready barrage and rockets again,” Creed instructed, as he looked around at the ADVENT soldiers. “We’ve got Berserkers incoming! Prepare to fire on incoming on my command! Officers, ready your soldiers.”

“Will do, sir!” One of the Officers stated, tapping a button on her wrist. “Going to inform the Corporal Williams about the situation.”

“Do that,” Creed said, as he forced an Andromedon back from concentrate fire. “Also say that we’d appreciate an air strike here at some point.”

“I wouldn’t expect that anytime soon,” Shun growled as she tossed a grenade towards a pair of Mutons. “They seem pretty well occupied.”

As she said that, a UFO shot overhead, pursued by two ADVENT fighters. Another one in the distance was shot down by a UFO and crashed into an abandoned building. Oliver had to agree that the ADVENT Air Force likely had more pressing concerns, and with two psions, they could probably control the situation.

Then again, the last time they’d also had two psions and he remembered how _that_ had gone.

A roar in the distance indicated the Berserkers were charging. “I’m going to freeze them when they get into position,” Matthew yelled, crossing his arms to likely help his focus his power. “Don’t waste the shot!”

 _“Incoming,”_ Lesedi stated calmly. _“Probably ten seconds.”_

Creed raised a hand. “Be ready!”

Oliver immediately focused in on the massive Mutons the moment their silver helmets entered his sights. “Sighted!” The pack of Berserkers roared at the sight of the taunting psion in the wasteland, and began charging.

“And… _stop_!” Matthew yelled, extending his hands and the foremost Berserkers suddenly froze, faint psionic energy binding them. The ones behind them slammed into the trapped brutes, and Creed lowered his arm.

_“Fire!”_

At least a few dozen rockets, and another barrage from Gloria was rained down upon the trapped horde. That was not counting the hundreds of gauss rounds and laser pulse streams added to the slaughter. The entire small area was annihilated with multiple orange and fiery explosions, and when the smoke and shrapnel cleared, all the Mutons were clearly dead.

Shun whooped and Matthew lowered his arms, seemingly exhausted from the display. The ADVENT soldiers also cheered, although it was cut short by Lesedi. _“Elites incoming. Matthew, you should probably get back and rest some. You can’t keep that up forever.”_

“Fine, a short break,” he relented and began to slowly retreat when he was suddenly yanked backwards, a seeker materializing around him.

“Fucking machine!” He growled, squeezing a fist and the head of the Seeker crumpled, and fell off of him.

“Ah!” Shun and Allison shouted simultaneously as Seekers materialized behind them, and then around multiple Officers.

“Duck!” Creed yelled at him, and he threw himself to the ground and Creed shot right above him, and another Seeker wreck fell to the ground. The rest of them were trying to quickly shoot the ones holding Shun and Allison. The one behind Allison suddenly crumpled from a telekinetic grab as Matthew came stumbling back.

Nio shot the one above Shun and it collapsed to the ground after about a few seconds of sustained fire. She fell to her knees and tore off her helmet and immediately began vomiting up whatever that black poison was that the Seekers used. Allison fortunately seemed to not have been affected, likely protected by her psionics.

 _“There’s two of the things on me!”_ Lesedi yelled frantically from the roof of the building, obviously choking. _“I can’t-“_

She gurgled and cut off. “We need to help her!” Oliver demanded, looking up frantically where she was, even knowing that there was no way they could get up there in time.

“We need to help the living!” Matthew yelled back, as there were still multiple Officers being strangled by the Seekers, all up and down the line. The good news was that they were so isolated from the main force that they were killed before too many Officers choked to death, but the bad was that during that time, the aliens had taken full advantage of the confusion and moved forward.

As the last Seeker was destroyed, Oliver turned to see a line of towering Muton Elites in the distance, their plasma cannons firing massive bolts of plasma in their direction, and quickly advancing, more Mutons behind them, and in the distance were the roars of more Berserkers.

Swallowing, Oliver reloaded and prepared to face down the oncoming Muton horde.

Everything had gone wrong very fast.

And he knew it was likely going to get worse.

***

_Las Vegas, United States of America_

The Battlemaster was sufficiently pleased with XCOM’s attempts at fighting him.

By themselves they were woefully inadequate, but together they were managing to force him to pay attention, even if they had yet to land a significant blow. They were an adequate challenge, which was admittedly more than he had expected given that this had to have been a recent development.

These particular XCOM soldiers would likely be rather devastating on his own army, but not even remotely close to the skill of a Battlemaster. He was pleasantly surprised with their weapon choices as well, it showed they had at least put some thought into how to realistically take him down, even if in practice it didn’t work nearly as well.

The one with the mace, Iosif, who he recalled from the intelligence gathered, was clearly the smartest one. He knew his limits and only played to his strengths and successfully demanded attention, and was skilled enough to deflect his strikes instead of meeting them head-on. The rare times the Battlemaster scored a direct hit, it had been blocked or negated with psionic shields.

He was decent, but not a particularly good duelist and didn’t have the appropriate speed to respond to his faster ripostes.

The telekinetic soldier was utterly useless, and outside of the gimmick of her electrified swords, posed no threat to him that he had seen. The trick had initially been welcome, but she hadn’t figured out the current needed to be _sustained_ if it was to have any effect. Simply throwing her weapons at him would do next to nothing as they couldn’t pierce his armor.

So it amused him to continually return her weapons, knowing that she would only get more frustrated. She also had refrained from directly using her telekinesis directly on _him_ , perhaps out of fear of provoking him to do the same. Commendable, since he would feel obligated to respond in kind, even if it was as weak as the rest of her fighting style.

The other one had been a mild surprise, and highly amusing. Carmelita was nothing more than a rage-driven berserker with a shotgun and ridiculous melee weapon. It could clearly hit fairly hard, but she was so predictable it was almost tiring. She was one of those fighters that only relied on strength and invincibility over strategy, and thus fell into traps and make mistakes rational fighters didn’t make.

She was tough though, he could respect that.

He felt one of them behind him and kicked out and hit air. He transitioned into a spin-slash downwards and barely missed Carmelita, who had dodged out the way, firing her ineffective alloy cannon as she retreated. The telekinetic woman had apparently decided she was tired trying ineffective strategies and had both her weapons in her hand, now glowing a bright orange.

Well, this should be interesting.

He swung towards Iosif who was too slow to get out of the way, but a psionic shield before his raised forearm stopped the blade in its tracks, although it was clearly draining. The telekinetic jumped forward, trying to slash at his leg. Because he was curious what would happen, he let her, though positioned his hand above her as her blades connected.

To his surprise, they sizzled on the armor on his thigh, and he actually noted they had left visible marks.

A problem then.

He reached down, grabbed the woman by her helmet and threw her into a nearby wall and immediately turned to deflect a blow from Iosif. With a free hand, he telekinetically grabbed the swords from the woman’s hand and threw them far behind the alien line. With any luck he would find them later and learn how exactly they were strong enough to even scratch his armor.

He felt Carmelita behind him and stuck out his arm, nailing her in the chest and sending her falling to the ground. He was rather tired of her now, so he spun around and angled his blade to stab into her body, and aimed right for her throat, it suddenly was halted a foot from Carmelita, and a yell of anger caught his attention and he turned to see the telekinetic with her hands extended to him, or rather, his sword.

Carmelita scrambled away and he turned to face the now-furious psion, the energy rippling off her. “You’re fast,” he said, inclining his head. “But I intended to kill her. Someone else must die in her place.”

He charged toward the ADVENT line, appeared in front of one of the XCOM soldiers, one he had no name for. All of them shouted and stumbled back, and he telekinetically grabbed one of the XCOM soldiers and forced him onto the blade, which stuck through his neck. The blade went through the gap smoothly, and with the body still on it, he slammed the point onto the ground, pinning the XCOM soldier to the ground.

The Battlemaster smoothly drew the blade from his neck and charged back towards the melee only to be stopped in his tracks by the telekinetic psion. He felt the energy covering his entire body, the bonds preventing it from moving. Or at least, trying to. It was no stasis field which was both easier to maintain and _actually_ froze a target in place.

But it was enough for Iosif finally score a hit directly on his knee. The metal was slightly dented as a result, but it would take at least a dozen volleys before it did any possible damage. He contemplated letting her exhaust herself on this false imprisonment, but seeing as though Carmelita was also taking advantage and striking on the opposite knee, he figured it was best not to take chances.

He focused on the point where the telekinetic was, and squeezed. The effect was immediate and she fell to the ground, gasping as he cut off her air supply and circulation throughout her body. The instant he was free, he released her and slashed towards Iosif, scoring an actual hit and sending him flying backwards, a large gash in his armor.

He transitioned to a slash against Carmelita, but she had wisely gotten out of his way, and had returned to firing her alloy cannon at him. He heard a clicking sound and looked down to see a small canister at his feet which didn’t explode but released a white gas into the air. Curious-Ah, he knew what it was.

He charged out of the way just in time as a laser from the XCOM line shot towards the gas and hit it. The instant the laser hit, the cloud turned into an inferno and burned out a second later. He glanced towards the XCOM line where one of the soldiers was probably preparing another one. Clever. Although it likely wouldn’t have hurt him even if he’d been in the center of the inferno.

His legs were suddenly rooted to the ground and he saw the telekinetic woman yet again trying to pin him, several more grenades floating above another hand. She thrust it forward and he raised a hand to ‘catch’ them-

And they exploded, but not in shrapnel or fire. But black sticky fluid coated his arm and managed to reach his helmet. The black goo coated his eyepieces, unfortunately rendering him effectively blind.

That was new. He knew what it was. XCOM had dubbed them ‘symbiote grenades’. Used for incapacitation and a rather ingenious application of the green sap the Sectoids used in constructing the Civilian Pacifiers. Charging was risky since he couldn’t see, but he could still feel the Humans around him, and he charged approximately halfway towards where the ADVENT line was and briefly assessed the damage.

His one hand was completely covered in the black substance and he couldn’t move it at all. It was rubbery, and not completely unpleasant. But certainly immobilizing. He still had three other arms, but the front of his helmet was covered by the substance. He felt the soldiers converging on him again, and he quickly tested peeling the substance away, but to no avail. Perhaps if he had time.

But right now, he did not.

He smiled. Fighting blind was something he had not done in decades. All Battlemasters trained at one time or another, but it was seen as unnecessary and impractical. It was more for sport than a serious tactic.

But this _was_ sport, was it not?

But the telekinetic woman had earned her death. He had considered capturing her for Revelean, but she had turned this into an interesting fight. She deserved a warrior’s death, not whatever the geneticist had planned. After all, there was still another psion he could capture.

He closed his eyes, reverting to his habits and focusing on his senses. He tuned the sounds of the still-raging battle around him out, and only focused on the three presences. One focused and determined – Iosif, likely. One victory and triumph – likely the telekinetic. One rage and hate – Carmelita.

In his mind he visualized the battlefield, with the XCOM soldiers as ghostly purple apparitions, and put their presences to the apparitions, and the sounds around them. Swishes of air and grunts of exertion. All allowing milliseconds of time to react.

But he was a Battlemaster. There was no question of _if_ he could do it.

And so he charged forward toward the apparition of Iosif who moved back and the Battlemaster felt his blade meet nothing, which was a psionic shield. He felt Carmelita behind him, and spun to catch her, his fingers outstretched to catch where he presumed her position was, and was rewarded with grabbing her by the arm, and he threw her towards Iosif who probably caught her, he couldn’t exactly say.

He then charged toward the telekinetic, fully intending to kill her, but in a more respectable way. He slashed towards where her legs would probably be, he felt her rise slightly – jumping – and quickly transitioned to an overhead chop with blinding speed. A scream that echoed with psionic distortion sounded, and he realized that his blade was actually _stuck_ in her body.

He heard her yell in pain, and the Battlemaster used the noise to pinpoint her exact location as he pried the blade from her body. The so-called Iron Skin modification. Strong, but not strong enough to resist his weapon. Focusing on her sounds of pain, he gripped his sword with two hands and swung towards where her head would be.

He felt resistance, but it was a clean cut.

The sounds stopped.

Her presence vanished.

He turned to the other two psions, their presences now tinged with panic and fear. They had indeed fought as well as could be expected. Perhaps he would kill them all anyway. It wasn’t as though he was never going to get another chance.

With the firefight still raging around him, the Battlemaster raised his sword in a final salute to them. The dance was coming to a close, and he was curious to see if there were any other tricks they had.

Then again…

He glanced toward where the other humans were, feeling their fear and terror at the sight of a blinded alien still handily beating their best soldiers.

Perhaps he should make a short diversion. Kill the rest of the XCOM soldiers first. Then the psions.

He gripped his weapon, smiled, and charged the line of Humans.

***

_Paris, France_

“Down!” Jamali yelled as the eye of the alien machine glowed brightly and a massive beam shot out of it, luckily missing all of them and slamming into a building behind them, leaving the wall cracked. The Outsiders were taking cover, as a good portion of the squad had Pulse weapons, the bane of the crystalline aliens.

Chan raised his hand, and shot purple energy towards the machine which whirred and floated behind the Outsiders, who began firing on the Templar. “Fakhr, can you blow them up?” Patricia demanded, as she began firing at one of the Outsiders shooting behind a concrete column.

“Give me a moment!” She yelled back as she pulled the rocket launcher from her shoulder and began loading the rocket inside. Jamali noticed the floating ball was moving back their way, the eye glowing again.

“It’s firing again!” Liliyane called while she ducked and the orange lance shot where her position had been. She responded by shooting her Pulse rifle at the floating ball, and scored a hit on the hull. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be having much of an effect, only seeming to scorch the armor.

Patricia managed to shatter one of the Outsiders into orange shards as he attempted rushing to a closer position. Iida and Catherine were pinning another one down, and Jamali, Blade and Chan were focusing on the other two. They were getting shots of their own off, and many of them were frighteningly close.

“Rocket ready!” Fakhr announced. “Target?”

“Shoot the machine!” Patricia called, seeming to improvise, as it just was floating there, and the eye was glowing a brighter orange as it probably was preparing to fire again. “Chan! Close range! Everyone else cover!”

“Copy!” They all shouted and Chan grasped his Zweihander and began charging one of the Outsiders while Jamali and the rest of them laid down dozens of gauss shots and laser bursts on the remaining Outsiders. Fakhr shot the rocket towards the ball and it just managed to float out of the way, but not before the rocket hit close by, and the shrapnel and fire actually seemed to penetrate it.

“Ah!” Patricia groaned, pausing her fire as she shook her head, perhaps in response to the pain of the floating ball? Was it actually alive then?

Chan was upon one of the Outsiders and slashed down at the alien. It raised a crystalline arm to block it, and did so, though the blade cut deep as it burned with purple energy. With the blade stuck midway down the arm, Chan took one of his hands off the grip to place a hand flaming with more purple fire onto the Outsider, and within seconds of his hand touching the alien, it was slowly engulfed in psionic energy and disintegrated as all Outsiders did in death.

Iida and Blade took the opportunity to charge forward to both flank the remaining Outsiders, and the floating alien. Fakhr was loading another rocket into her launcher, and Liliyane suddenly cried out as a plasma bolt from one of the Outsiders hit her directly in the shoulder, forcing her back down into cover.

At the same time, the floating alien suddenly began changing. Jamali watched in fascinated horror as the panels around the upper half of the eye suddenly retracted revealing a sickening… _thing_ housed within. Literal tentacles wreathed in psionic energy emerged from the shell, four of them, all attached to a rolling and shifting mass that emitted the same purple aura.

The ball of flesh in the cell was utterly and completely unnatural, even by Jamali’s ever-changing standards. It wasn’t static, but was rolling and inverting, twisting into vaguely spherical shapes. He couldn’t tell if the flesh was naturally pink, or if it was simply an illusion from the psionic energy distorting it.

“What the fuck?!” Blake spat as he began focusing on the tentacle alien.

“New target!” Patricia shouted, focusing her weapon on the monstrosity. “Scatter!”

The thing began manipulating it’s tentacles around the air, and a purple sphere began converging in the center. It thrust it forward, sending the ball in their direction. Jamali leapt out of the way, and managed to get out of the small blast radius where it hit. But he saw the effects. The bodies caught in the blast suddenly turned black and disintegrated within seconds, and even Liliyane and Catherine who were on the edge of the radius had entire chunks of their armor just disintegrated off, and their entire suit was black and scorched.

“Damn that hurts!” Catherine cursed, as she frantically pulled out her med-kit. “Lily! Get over here!”

“Preparing rocket!” Fakhr yelled, aiming at the tentacle alien. “Firing!”

Her rocket sped towards the creature, but it simply shifted to the side and the rocket crashed nearby, managing to hit one of the Outsiders, but nothing close to where the rocket was intended. Jamali risked standing, taking a few precious seconds to aim at the mass of flesh, and fired.

The burning red lance was true and hit the rolling flesh dead center, and it swiftly turned to him. After three seconds of sustained fire, he ceased and looked at the damage he had caused. Only he saw that the effect had been almost nothing. The charred flesh and even the hole he had burned were already healing and within a few seconds, it was almost as though there had never been a wound at all.

It suddenly floated forward with surprising speed, and stopped right in front of Iida who began stumbling back in surprise, firing her weapon at the tentacled monstrosity in front of her. The thing lashed out with one of its tentacles, wrapping it around her leg, and another wrapped it around her arm and hoisted her up into the air.

“Shoot it now!” Jamali called frantically, but the alien was healing too fast for their shots to be of any use. Iida screamed as she was thrown into the rolling mass of flesh by the tentacles. Jamali could only watch in horror as the flesh enveloped her body, slowly consuming her and presumably dissolving her body within.

The tentacles suddenly withdrew into the shell, and the coverings slid over the flesh-brain, completely protecting it from harm. “Readying rocket,” Fakhr called. “Last one.”

The lone bit of good news he could see was that Chan had killed the last Outsider and was moving towards the alien… _thing_. The eye of the alien began heating up, but Chan struck it from behind, scoring what seemed to be a deep hit. It spun around, and seeing it was facing an enemy at close range, retracted it’s armor and the tentacles emerged again.

But Chan fortunately seemed to know what he was doing. When one tentacle lashed around his leg, he sliced down and the alien recoiled as he sliced the tentacle clean off. He severed another one with an uppercut. Yet even that didn’t seem to only be a temporary solution, as the alien was simply sticking the tentacle stump back into the mass of flesh, and it was emerging with a completely new tentacle.

Chan couldn’t keep it up forever, but he seemed to be wanting it to end. With that enemy the only one remaining, the surviving XCOM soldiers were circling around it, trying to shoot the mass of flesh encased within the shell, hoping that massive damage to it might manage to kill it. But at this point Jamali suspected that the only thing that would kill it is if the entire flesh-brain was destroyed at once.

Chan suddenly adjusted something on his sword, and the blade suddenly turned a white-hot orange, glowing bright as psionic flames wreathed around it. Grasping it with both hands, he plunged it directly into the eye of the alien horror, pushing it deeper and deeper, slowly as the creature seemed to go into some kind of shock, vibrating and flinging its tentacles in the air.

Patricia also shuddered and fell to one knee, clearly affected by whatever psionic thing that was being sent out by the alien. Chan shouted as well, but continued to push the sword further in until it was up to the hilt. “Firing!” Fakhr shouted, and the rocket sped towards the alien mass and hit the back of the shell.

The explosion of purple and orange threw Chan backwards and the shell suddenly fell to the ground. Jamali quickly assessed the damage as soon as the fumes cleared. All that remained in the shell was some purple goop and bits of flesh, though who’s it was he couldn’t tell. The entire front of Chan’s armor had been torn to shreds, and his helmet had open gashes, yet he stood. Shaky, but alive.

“What the actual fuck was that?” He sputtered, exhaustion tinging his voice, as he slumped.

“You sit the hell down,” Catherine demanded as she pulled out her med-kit. “We’ll deal with that later. You’re exhausted and you’re not killing yourself today.”

“Fine, doc,” he sighed, collapsing to the ground. “Lost my sword the first battle. Was hoping it would last a little longer.”

“I’d say it was a fair sacrifice,” Patricia commented, walking up. “That thing pretty much negated my telepathy. I don’t know how that…thing…did it, but I really hope there aren’t that many more of those things.” She motioned toward the UFO. “We’ve still got a mission here. Come on, let’s go secure the Gateway. But I think the hard part is done. I don’t sense anything more inside.”

Jamali sincerely hoped that was true.

He never wanted to experience anything like that again.

***

_Seattle, United States of America_

“I’m hit!” Jose yelled as a large bolt of plasma hit him square in the chest, the brunt of it luckily absorbed, but leaving a small black crater in its wake, a danger that was becoming more and more prominent as the Elites continued pouring through the hole in the barrier and taking positions behind the rubble.

Oliver had heard the stories about how just six Elites and an Ethereal had nearly destroyed New York and fighting them now, he could easily see why. The hulking red-armored aliens with their ornate triangular masks would just. Not. Die.

He saw them shrug off _missile_ attacks from Jose and Nio, if they even did cause any damage. But their skin beneath the armor seemed incredibly tough, and he was pretty sure they had been genetically modified to be able to heal wounds extremely quickly. The massive plasma cannons they wielded were powerful enough to kill any soldier in a few shots, and to make matters worse, they were beginning to be interspersed with ordinary Muton soldiers.

The smaller Mutons fortunately died much easier, although they were on the whole remarkably tough. But the problem was that they were in danger of losing the line, and as more Elites poured through, they were beginning to advance forward, and not even the two psions would be enough to turn the tide.

The air battle above had turned into essentially a victory for the aliens, as the UFOs now far outnumbered the ADVENT aircraft still in operation. Andromedon soldiers were also beginning to come through the gap, and were tactically disabling certain parts of the shield to allow their forces to advance. Normally that would be a bloodbath, but with the Elites leading the charge, it was giving them a fighting chance.

 _“Firing barrage,”_ Gloria informed, and raised the arms of her MEC and fired a trio of missiles directly at one of the Elites, all of which impacted on the upper chest and helmet. Large gaps of the armor fell off and Oliver and Shun fired at the openings, and the combined power managed to bring the behemoth to the ground with a thud.

One down, thirty to go?

It wasn’t the first Elite that had died, but they were few and far between. A roar from the back of the alien line sounded, and Oliver felt his heart drop even further. The Berserkers were back, and this time there wasn’t a coordinated missile strike to stop them. “Berserkers incoming!” Creed echoed, as he killed several more Muton soldiers.

Oliver quickly scanned the battlefield, trying to see how much they could realistically hold. The alien forces were roughly two-thirds through the rubble graveyard, and even though ADVENT was continuously rushing their forces to the defense, it was becoming overwhelming even for them. Soldiers died, were pulled away, and replaced, but now they were falling behind, and dozens of corpses now littered the area around him, along with the smell of ozone and burnt flesh.

If things didn’t improve soon, they would have to pull back.

Allison was selectively using her psionic shields, creating smaller and personal ones around wounded soldiers, those actually firing and also directly in front to alien weapons to temporarily negate the threat. The woman was distorted through her purple veil, but he could tell she was beginning to tire from the constant usage of her powers with no break.

Matthew was similarly weakened, and used his abilities with no wasted breath or finesse. Squeezed fists resulted in Muton heads imploding, and Elite armor crumpling. He alone had been responsible for the deaths of three Elites so far, and the rest of his energy was spent reshaping the battlefield, removing the cover the aliens hid behind, and throwing the concrete at more aliens, or against their barrier.

The Berserkers leapt forward as Oliver executed yet another Muton soldier, and immediately charged forward, wrist blades at the ready. They fortunately weren’t as armored as the Elites, or as large, but that was a small comfort since they still towered over all of the soldiers. “Target the Berserkers!” Creed yelled, and the hail of laser and gauss fire turned to the charging aliens.

Two immediately succumbed to the combined fire, and Matthew yelled as psionic energy convulsed around him, and two of the Berserkers were lifted into the air, and their armor visibly crushed as he threw them into the aliens at the back. Several Berserkers slammed directly into, or tripped over small psionic barriers manifested by Allison.

One was blown apart by rockets, but several managed to leap over the line, and immediately began wreaking havoc on the ill-prepared soldiers. Two ADVENT soldiers were thrown back by one punch from a Berserker, and Nio yelled as another one grabbed him and began beating him into the ground. Oliver frantically fired at the head of the beast, and managed to pierce it after a few volleys and lucky shots.

The Berserker collapsed to the ground, Nio still in its hand, limbs at contorted and unnatural angles and lying still. He was clearly dead. Another Berserker roared as its arms were literally ripped off by Matthew’s telekinesis, and the psion seemed to be growing surprisingly _more_ powerful as things got worse. Creed, Shun, and the combined fire of ADVENT managed to take down the remaining Berserker, but during that entire time, the situation had worsened.

The Elites were almost upon them, and the Cyberdisks had nearly surrounded them as they had been focused on the Berserkers. They had been saved for just that moment, it seemed, when the majority of their tools were spent. Creed noticed too, and knew what had to be done. “Retreat! Allison, shield!”

“On it!” She responded, and raised her hands, the largest psionic shield he had seen from her yet appeared above them, blocking the Cyberdisk fire. The Officers were also yelling to their soldiers to fall back, and into their wrists as they communicated orders from their superiors. Matthew roared, and clenched a fist and six Cyberdisks promptly collapsed into wrecks, the entirety of the force that had been flanking them from above.

And he promptly collapsed.

“Grab him!” Creed ordered Oliver, and Allison readjusted her shield to face the Elites and Muton soldiers. “Lightning Sky, we need an evac _now_!”

 _“On approach,”_ was the response. _“Stand by.”_

Oliver hauled Matthew over his shoulder, grunting at the weight. It seemed that Matthew had not been getting stronger, but had simply expended everything he had left. Luckily, it seemed that might save them since they now didn’t have to worry about getting shot from above. The Mutons were now past the line, and one of the Officers waved back some of the still-retreating soldiers. “Stand clear!”

Oliver realized he was holding a detonator, and once his thumb hit the trigger, the first two buildings near the ADVENT line shuddered and suddenly collapsed from planted explosives inside. The rubble fell onto the Mutons, burying them if not killing them outright. “That’ll buy us some time,” the Officer said grimly. “But I don’t think we can hold the city.”

“Not in this condition,” Creed nodded, as the skyranger swooped down. “We’ve lost too many people now.”

Having now participated in two losing battles, Oliver was not exactly feeling elated as he saw the skyranger land. The aliens seemed unstoppable when they put thought into it, and as shown, overwhelming numbers would kill the defenses even if the aliens weren’t as smart.

He could only hope the other battles were going somewhat better.

Although with the Battlemaster in one of them, he had a sinking feeling that wasn’t the case.

***

_Las Vegas, United States of America_

Nuan would have been awestruck that the reports and even footage of the Battlemaster in combat was somehow _understating_ what it was actually like to physically be around him.

If she hadn’t been completely terrified.

She had felt a faint glimmer of hope after Karen had blinded him with the symbiote grenades, but that had been quickly dispelled when he had proceeded to continue fighting _blind_. His subsequent execution of Karen had been excruciating to watch, and Nuan really felt the screaming urge to throw down her weapon and run.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t leave everyone else to die to this thing.

Even as it butchered everyone around her.

Despite how it seemed on the surface to not be effecting him, Nuan somehow noted that the Battlemaster _was_ hindered by his blindness. His strikes were broader, not as precise. He amputated limbs off of soldiers when she could tell he had been going for kills. Right now he was hacking the soldiers around him into pieces, all grace and precision gone in favor of death.

Iosif and Carmelita were coming back to assist, but the Battlemaster had already killed half of the ADVENT forces around her. Aya was stumbling back, firing her pulse rifle as she tried to get out of the range of his swings, but she was suddenly picked up telekinetically, and a swing by the Battlemaster decapitated her without a sound.

Carmelita tried once more firing several rounds from her alloy cannon, which Nuan knew _had_ to be running low on ammo, but to the _exact same fucking effect._ Nuan felt an unreasonable anger at Carmelita’s so-called ‘tactics’. It _clearly wasn’t working_. Yet the idiot woman kept doing it over and over again expecting different results.

_Idiot!_

Iosif was trying to attract the Battlemaster’s attention again, actually using his brain, by attacking the flank of the towering alien. A low rumble emanated from the alien as he gestured and both Carmelita and Iosif were sent flying back, although Iosif managed to anchor himself to the ground after being pushed a few meters back.

The Battlemaster was now looking towards her side of the street, she swallowed and he suddenly performed his fake teleportation trick and appeared _right beside her_. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming as he slashed the soldiers around him, men and woman crying out in pain around her.

She stumbled back and tossed one of her flame primer grenades at his armored feet, refraining from firing until she was well out of range. And then the Battlemaster looked at her, the helmet encased in the black substance only adding to his terrifying visage. A second later the sword was coming towards her and she leapt to the side and felt the blade whistle horrifyingly past her face and she fell onto her back, thinking how lucky she was that she hadn’t been hit.

Until the pain hit her and she realized that he _had_ hit her. Her arms felt as though they were on fire, and she tried to push herself up to get away, when the extent of her injuries became apparent.

She had no arms.

Panic enveloped her as her vision swam as the pain strangely dulled at the realization that two of his limbs didn’t exist anymore. She could feel the blood running out of the stumps, her life literally draining away as the sounds of the world faded to a mix of screams, gauss blasts and explosions.

She didn’t want to die like this, but she was too weak to fight anymore, too weak to even do more than look around. The sky was irritatingly bright blue and cheerful, almost as if there was no war going on.

Nuan wished with what she presumed was her final moments that the rest of them would leave now. Iosif, Cassandra, that other sniper, even that idiot Carmelita. They couldn’t win. Not against that thing.

Her vision flickered, and she noted with some dull interest that she felt herself behind lifted up by the shoulders and dragged…somewhere. Voices above her talked, but she couldn’t understand them. Were they even friends? Something was sprayed onto the stumps of her arms, blessedly hot and cold at the same time.

What an idiotic last thought to have.

And Nuan finally fell unconscious.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 8: ADVENT Military

Subsection 8.3: Soldier Qualifications

Overview: The ADVENT Military expects the best from its soldiers and that extends from the newly enlisted to the ranking officers themselves. There are standards that ADVENT will adhere to, thus ensuring that those enlisting are of the highest caliber to face the multiple challenges ADVENT will face from a military and diplomatic perspective.

The ADVENT Military must be more than a sword of the Executive Branch, only used as a blunt tool to destroy or negate opposition, but as a scalpel with the knowledge that a military response is not the only one, and exercise restraint when utilizing the ADVENT Military. However, when the time to deploy comes, each ADVENT soldier must follow their orders completely, and execute their enemies without mercy.

There can be no compromise against the enemies of ADVENT, except complete and utter surrender of the enemy. Those serving must be prepared to perform these acts and understand what joining ADVENT truly entails.

There are two points of entry: Enlisted and Officer, both with the potential for promotion.

The ADVENT Military does not discriminate based on age or gender. All positions are open to male and female soldiers, provided that they meet the minimum requirements.

**Educational Requirements:**

Enlisted: High School Degree – Lower education levels not accepted.

Officer: 4-Year College Degree Minimum – Lower education levels not accepted

**Physical Requirements:**

For both Officer and Enlisted: Must pass a physical fitness test which consists of the following:

-Pull-Ups: Minimum Requirement: 10

-Crunches: Minimum Requirement: 75

-3-Mile Run: Minimum Requirement: 28:00 Minutes

Must not be missing one or more limbs, or have approved prosthetic replacements

Must not be suffering from any terminal or debilitating disease or illness.

**Personal Requirements:**

Minimum Age: 18 (17 with parental permission)

Must have a clean criminal record (Only exceptions can be made for misdemeanors)

Must not be affiliated with any known political or religious extremist groups (List is publically available)

Must be a legal citizen of ADVENT. Illegal applicants will be arrested and prosecuted.

**Psychological Requirements:**

Must not have a documented record of deception, bullying, or disruptive behavior.

Must not be under any medication that severely alters mental conditions.

Must not be suffering from one or more mental illnesses or social impairments.

Must participate in a Standard Psychological Examination (SPM) to establish psychological state:

  * Those with pacifistic tendencies, or inclinations towards non-violent behavior in the face of danger will be dismissed. Alternate employment within various ADVENT agencies may be recommended instead.
  * Those with sociopathic, psychopathic, or similar inclinations towards the taking of life to the extent that they pose a threat to combat and military security will be dismissed. Profiles fitting this description will be forwarded to ADVENT Intelligence or XCOM for possible recruitment.
  * Those who do not fall into either extreme will pass, though some may require monitoring for a period of 1 to 5 years.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's that time of year again where the college semester is starting. Like usual I'll post my standard disclaimer that college comes first and will take priority over writing. That being said, historically, there hasn't been a major change in updates, but if there is, that is the reason. What is going to stop writing briefly is the XCOM 2 expansion dropping next week. That'll be where my free time is spent until I beat it. I'm hoping to get another chapter in the pipeline before then, so you should hopefully not experience a drastic delay. No promises though, it's going to be an (obviously) big one.
> 
> And another thank you to everyone reading and/or giving feedback. This would not be nearly as good without you.
> 
> \- Xabiar


	15. Demands of Necessity

 

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

There was very little good news in the wake of the battles.

Patricia had returned to the Praesidium with her squad mostly intact, in addition to a UFO Transport and Gateway. That, and they managed to kill one of the little surprises the Battlemaster had left, which had apparently almost killed the entire squad. Even with the ease of which Patricia had disposed of the majority of the alien forces, the victory felt hollow since it had, in retrospect, not been anything more than a diversion.

Seattle was essentially lost, even though they had extracted a heavy toll from the alien forces, but destroyed most of the city in the process. The casualty list was massive, including several veteran XCOM soldiers, and it would have been far higher if he hadn’t insisted Saudia have the military prepare contingency plans in case of being overrun.

And that was the problem. No matter how skilled they were, no matter how intricate and detailed their plans were, none of that mattered when they could eventually just be overrun with sheer numbers. It was a stark reality he had…not _ignored_ , not entirely, but certainly pushed to the back of his mind; reduced its importance; pretty much whatever to ignore the fact that no matter what, they would probably die from nothing more than being outnumbered.

Psionics did somewhat even the playing field, but not when there were clearly ways to counter it, and the enemy had psions of their own.

Aegis had given him the numbers before, and it put into perspective the… _futility_ …of this war, even if everything somehow went right. Every single individual species’ army outnumbered the _combined_ military might of every single human military, even with the increased numbers from recruitment. The Muton species alone was half the size of the Human race, and Aegis hadn’t clarified if that was for the entire species, or only combat-ready soldiers.

Humans were too easy to kill.

It was just that simple.

It wasn’t that the other species were innately superior to Humans. The battles had shown that. With the exception of the Ethereals, each species had shown that they could, in general, be overcome by Human weapons and tactics. Some easier than others, but it wasn’t _hopeless_. The issue was that there were just more of them than Humanity could ever hope to match in a reasonable amount of time.

Portland had, amazingly, been held, but it was another hollow victory because while ADVENT had managed to hold off the Muton army, they hadn’t been able to exact nearly enough enemy casualties to make a noticeable impact, and once whatever alien commander had realized that the best he could do was overrun with superior numbers, he had instead sabotaged the city outside the zones of control ADVENT held.

Electricity, water; all of that had been severed or sabotaged and immediately afterwards the alien army had retreated, content to force them to leave of their own volition, while keeping heavy watch on any efforts of ADVENT to repair it. Supply lines were being attacked, and planes shot down. The position was untenable, that much was clear, and it would only be a matter of time before ADVENT had to abandon it.

Vegas was little more than shiny rubble now, as the Battlemaster had made good on his promise to destroy the city. ADVENT had helped to an extent, strategically collapsing buildings onto hordes of aliens, similar to Seattle. The majority of the defenders were dead, and only around twenty thousand had managed to retreat safely.

They had admittedly killed at least three times their number of aliens, which would have been an acceptable loss had numbers actually meant anything to them. It didn’t matter how many Mutons, Vitakara, or Andromedons died, they were all ultimately replaceable and for every one that was killed, all it did was delay the inevitable a little longer.

Then there was the Battlemaster himself, and he was one of the only ones whose death would actually have an impact. The problem was that the very idea of managing to kill the Battlemaster seemed laughable. True, the Templars had only had mere weeks of training, yet the Battlemaster had disabled them with ease, going so far as to fight them while _blinded_.

Debriefing Iosif and Carmelita had been unpleasant from what they’d described to him. It had looked that way from the footage of the battle, but both Iosif and Carmelita were convinced that if the Battlemaster had really wanted to, he could have killed them within minutes. The only reason he seemed to keep them alive for so long was because he appeared to want practice.

 _Practice_.

The Commander stared at the footage playing in front of him on the holotable. The same footage of the Battlemaster played over and over, from every perspective he could find. What was he hoping to find here? Weaknesses, tactics, _anything_ that gave a sliver of hope that he could be beaten. And he _could_ be, the Commander was certain of that. Everything had a weakness, some kind of vulnerability.

So he believed, but the more he learned, the more he was wondering if the Battlemaster was the rare exception to the rule. Aegis had given details on the Battlemaster a while ago and had noted much the same thing.

His armor was nigh-impenetrable, and Aegis suspected that only the same type of metal might be able to be strong enough to penetrate it, or defend against his sword. The _only_ glimmer of optimism he could glean from this was that Shen’s swords, set to the high-friction setting, seemed to actually do more than just glance off the armor, but actually cut it in a minuscule way.

The Battlemaster had seemed to think the same thing, judging by how quickly he took Karen’s swords out of the picture.

So one possible weakness. Two if he counted offensive psionic powers. Chan might actually be able to cause of damage. Annette as well, had she still been alive. But that highlighted another problem: The Battlemaster didn’t tolerate threats. The instant it seemed like his life was in danger he stopped playing and removed the threat.

Karen’s swords had caused damage. Literally seconds later he had them telekinetically thrown far away. If a soldier posed something more than being irritating, he would just kill them outright. The Commander didn’t know if Karen had been a victim of this, or she was just unlucky and the first one the Battlemaster had chosen to kill. But he _was_ certain that if a psion like Chan was in play, the Battlemaster wouldn’t waste time toying with him, he would simply _kill_ him within seconds.

The Commander had to admire his intelligence, even if he despised him at the same time.

So what was the solution? More Templars? New weapons? Try to overwhelm him with psions? Get Aegis to actually do something? Or was it time to take more drastic measures?

Problem: Humans were too easy to kill.

Problem: Aliens outnumbered Humans by an unfathomable amount.

Problem: The Battlemaster was almost impossible to stop, let alone kill.

Problem: There were other Ethereals actually worse than the Battlemaster.

Problem: Humans were still divided.

Problem: Every single one of those problems is too major to ignore.

And the issue was that none of them could be solved quickly or easily without taking _drastic_ action. Traditional ethics was not something he held himself to, but he had standards and didn’t begrudge people for following them. He knew there would be some who viewed what Vahlen and her team were doing to the Human body as strange and unnatural, and wouldn’t want that anywhere near themselves.

He’d planned to let genetic modification be a choice each soldier made, like the MEC pilots. Now he was wondering if he could afford to do even that. Every soldier lost now was too major to ignore. Could he honestly say that approach was truly worth preserving? Did he even have a choice now that there was a very real possibility that they would _lose_ if these steps weren’t taken?

There was a problem with his _priorities_. Even now he was still too idealistic. He was looking forward to the future too much, working with a failed fantasy where personal choice was an actual and legitimate option. Manchurian Project be damned, the last thing he needed now was Vahlen wasting time trying to keep Humans under control out of some apocalyptic fear that they could take over the world. That was a problem for after the war, that was a concern that should only be realized when the fighting was done and they had to pick up the pieces.

What was he actually concerned about? Defection? Betrayal?

He laughed to himself.

If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that every member of XCOM would rather die before letting the aliens win. No, betrayal had never been a reason, but his attempt to keep the most powerful people in the world from abusing their abilities on other humans. He was tackling a problem that had yet to manifest just because…why?

Was it to prove that, somewhere, he was not as bad as he knew he was? That he still respected human choice, and wanted for at least _one_ of his achievements to be objectively seen with approval? This, from someone who cared nothing for superfluous praise and validation?

He scowled, hands gripping the holotable tightly as the footage played over and over in front of him.

He wasn’t a good person, so why should he pretend otherwise? Logic and pragmatism were far superior, and that was why he had gotten this far; that was _why_ he was still alive. He saw lines and he crossed them if there was no other choice, so this should be no different. There were still so many problems in the world that he had refrained from interfering in out of the sake of being _apolitical._

_Apolitical._

Sure, that was what he wanted XCOM to be in the future. Work with ADVENT, not work for or control them. Don’t interfere in their matters. He’d given Saudia all the tools needed to create, if not a perfect society, one that was free of most of the failures of the past. And to her credit, Saudia was rising to the challenge, because she too understood what was really at stake.

He wasn’t blind to the fact that normally, after such a defeat, there should be people in the streets. There should be _some_ kind of outcry.

There wasn’t. Probably due to her wisely keeping it quiet.

_Apolitical._

Was that even a word in this time? _Every_ decision had ramifications across the world now. For every country that did not join ADVENT, ADVENT was that much weaker. For every pointless Human war that persisted was one taking precious resources away from the alien invasion. All he needed to do was send Patricia over to China or that idiot in Canada and force them to join for the preservation of the Human race.

One XCOM squad could decapitate any minor threat the countries in the Middle East might pose. The time for surrender had long passed, as far as he could tell. The governments deserved nothing after seeing they stood no chance, and yet, persisting anyway. XCOM had collapsed governments before, but only as it related to the alien threat.

But that was a petty argument, since _everything_ now affected the war against the aliens.

He closed his eyes and took a breath.

He was stressed, tired and likely not thinking clearly.

But major decisions needed to be made.

“You can’t sleep?” He glanced up, partially surprised that Vahlen had managed to get this close without him noticing her. She looked like she had been sleeping, as she was out of her laboratory attire and was wearing more casual clothing for sleeping. He noted absently that her hair was also down and she hadn’t bothered putting on shoes before coming.

Probably waiting for him, he supposed, feeling somewhat guilty to keep her waiting without letting her know- “No,” she suddenly interrupted, raising a hand and walking around. “Don’t you even begin feeling that way. I should have guessed you’d be somewhere here.”

He shrugged, looking back down to the holotable. “For what good it does.”

“And is it working?” She asked, gently taking his chin between her fingers and turning it towards her. “How many times have you watched that? Ten? Twenty?’

He closed his eyes, sighing. “I have no idea.”

She reached over to grab his hands and he let her turn his body towards her. “And what exactly have you managed to find from that that we _didn’t_ find at the meeting?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “That we’re all dead unless we make some big changes.”

“You know you shouldn’t do this all on your own,” she chastised, looking at him with concern both in her eyes and emanating out of her. “Ignoring pointless romantic comparisons, you’re going to make mistakes in judgement if you sneak up here in the middle of the night and dwell on how bad the situation seems.”

He let go of her left hand and used it to rub his eyes. “I’d kept all of you up far past what was needed. People need sleep, I can’t right now. No point in wasting time I say. I’m not-“

“You’re not _well_ , mentally or otherwise,” Vahlen interrupted, more harshness in her voice than he was expecting. “I can feel how much stress and exhaustion you are under from the other end of the Praesidium. You’re probably making it impossible for any reasonably powerful telepath to sleep tonight. You _need_ someone to share it with,” her voice softened. “So here I am.”

He simply pulled her into a hug.

They stood there for a while, both of them relaxing against each other, reminding themselves that they weren’t completely alone in the struggles facing both of them.

“Thank you,” he told her, knowing she could feel how much those words conveyed.

“Anytime you need it,” she answered softly against his chest. “That’s what we do for each other.”

“That it is,” he answered, just as softly. “Although I still don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep anytime soon. Unless you make me.”

“No, I’ve got a better idea,” she said, gently disengaging from him. “I saw what was in your head while walking up here. Difficult to ignore and you needed someone who _sees_ how you think to really help.” She walked around to the opposite side of the holotable, brushed a few unruly strands of hair behind her ear and looked him directly in the eyes.

“We’re both not going to get to sleep, I think,” she continued, shutting off the footage of the Battlemaster. “So we’re going to start going through those thoughts and plans in your head. We’re going to think them through _logically_ and _clearly_ , which you were definitely not. And we’ll do that until Zhang, Jackson, or Patricia decide to check up on us.”

He had to smile at that. “I think that is an excellent idea. Since I was, ah, not ‘thinking clearly’, perhaps you should decide what we go over first.”

“Fine,” she said with a look of intense concentration on her face, already typing on a tablet she had picked up. “Your first identified problem: _Humans are too easy to kill_.”

***

_Switzerland, ADVENT Command_

Saudia sat alone at her desk, no one nearby to disturb her as she dwelled alone on the ramifications of the past few days. She was thankful that the Commander had the foresight to include certain provisions in the Directive, and that she and Elizabeth had worked for this contingency well in advance.

Unfortunately, it was a so-called victory that she didn’t want to have. In fact, it only made things more difficult for her.

Morale was dropping fast in the wake of the losses, and she couldn’t entirely blame everyone.

They were losing. Badly.

There was no way around that fact, and the worst part was that no easy answers presented themselves to her. Or plausible ones of any kind. No, if things stayed as they were, the aliens would win within one year, probably sooner.

She personally wasn’t as affected as everyone else, and was keeping her mind on the big picture. The war wasn’t lost. Not by a long shot. So, there were some facts she was keeping at the forefront of her mind:

One: The aliens only controlled a relatively limited section of the world. They had the major cities in Australia, a town in Japan, and some major cities on the American West Coast. All in all, not that many. Granted the losses were no good for morale, but they still held the advantage when it came to land mass.

Two: ADVENT could beat the aliens. They’d done it before, both with and without XCOM help. They just needed to be smarter and wiser than the aliens for it to happen, which was a somewhat difficult task since the Battlemaster was proving to be too competent for his own good. It was irritating, since she couldn’t help but respect him in a way.

The main problem that she had highlighted was that in the end, it would come down to a numbers game. Humanity could probably kill several billion aliens and they would still have some to throw at them. No, they couldn’t win this conventionally. They were playing within rules imposed in their minds.

Rules that were simply one species against another, winner take all.

Wasn’t fair and didn’t work. So a new strategy needed to be developed. The rules needed to be changed or they simply needed to cheat.

The question was _how_ they should cheat. What would be the best answer to what the aliens were doing here?

That was something she knew she couldn’t figure out on her own. Luckily she had an excellent and competent team of advisors overseeing the various departments and agencies. No, she didn’t believe the war was lost yet. The Battlemaster was a problem, but only because he was smart. She’d surprisingly noted that the Battlemaster seemed to have gotten into the Commander’s head, which she knew had to have been his intention.

The Commander was a man who rarely, if ever, lost. But when he did, it fucked with his head severely. He would second guess himself, become predictable, and try things as safely as possible. The trick with the so-called Templars had been novel, but Saudia had known the best they were going to do was slow the Battlemaster down.

Slowing him down was a pointless goal. He had to be killed. _That_ was what they should be working towards. No _surviving,_ or _slowing him down_ , but purely killing him. But the Commander was almost preparing for defeat, he was acting almost hopeless and scared of the Battlemaster. That was, admittedly, completely justified, but it didn’t solve the problem.

Saudia drummed her fingers against the table, her chin resting on a propped up fist. To her it seemed simple: Kill the Battlemaster and they could win the war. Most of the aliens were inferior to Humans, especially Vitakarians and Mutons. Take away their leaders and they were worse. They weren’t winning on skill, but numbers.

The Andromedons were a problem, but they were fewer and they would have many more weaknesses than the Battlemaster. And the Sectoids…come to think of it, she didn’t recall seeing them at all in the past few months. Though they were another inferior species, with laughably weak psions compared to Humans. With the exception of the Hive Commanders.

Of course, there was the likelihood of another Ethereal showing up if the Battlemaster was killed. But she had her doubts that he would somehow be worse than the Battlemaster, with the exception of this Imperator leading them. Still, even the weaker Ethereals were dangerous, and they had to deal with the problem at hand.

The Battlemaster was one Ethereal. One with a limited area of effect. Capturing cities was all well and good, but his reach was limited and he couldn’t be everywhere at once. The fact that he was, right now, seemingly invincible didn’t matter so much in that perspective. So that meant he needed to be kept off the front lines whenever possible.

ADVENT needed some kind of victory for PR if nothing else. There needed to be strikes against alien holds, or the razing of their armies. The Mutons might have been unfeeling brutes, but she suspected that even Andromedon and Vitakara morale could be damaged.

There had been enough toying around. The aliens were on Earth, and Earth belonged to the Humans.

It was time to remind them of that. Luckily she had several operations she could enact, ones that had been in the process for weeks, but now might need to be bumped up a few days. She needed to talk with the Commander as well. XCOM would probably be needed for some of these, and it was extremely possible that aliens would launch even more attacks soon.

The little bit of good news to come out of this entire debacle had been that the EU was finally coming around. France had begun making efforts to join after Paris was almost taken, and when they realized how unprepared they were for an actual alien army. And Hassan had told her that it would likely have a ripple effect.

Europe had now seen first-hand the strength of the aliens. She found it darkly amusing to have the knowledge that if the idiotic politicians in charge didn’t start using their brains, there were definitely some in the militaries that would be concerned enough to take matters into their own hands. But she felt it wouldn’t come to that. They would join ADVENT in the end and that was the end of story.

Canada was another issue that seemed almost petty in the scope of the threat. Prime Minister Jace might be idiotic enough to openly refuse to help, but she truthfully no longer cared about what he wanted. Necessity demanded that Canada cooperate, and she would ensure they would, one way or another.

But it would require some deftness not to make a martyr out of him, for the moronic pacifists that refused to accept that anything other than ADVENT would result in death. Then again, against her Peacekeepers and army she supposed it really didn’t make much difference what they wanted.

All they had were weak, hollow words and threats. They threatened nothing but her ego.

She had armies.

And it was perhaps time to consider bringing this world to order much more forcefully than she’d wanted. The survival of the human race now depended on it.

***

_The Praesidium, Medical Bay_

Nuan groggily opened her eyes, then rapidly closed them to hide the white light shining from the ceiling. _What happened?_ Was the first thought to come to her head as she slowly adjusted to consciousness.

The battle…the Battlemaster…they were losing…Karen died…Carmelita was an ineffective idiot…

_My arms!_

Her eyes snapped open as adrenaline flowed through her at the realization. The first thing she did was look down as best she could to where her arms were.

Or should be.

Because right now they were just stumps, the ends covered with some kind of soft device, probably medical. The left one had lost about half of the forearm and the right had been amputated right up to the elbow. They didn’t _hurt_ thankfully, but there was just…nothing.

Nuan swallowed as she unconsciously tried to move her fingers and arms, while also realizing that they weren’t there anymore. It was so alien as to be difficult to grasp. It was difficult to believe this was actually happening and not part of some nightmare.

The only good news to her was that she appeared to have been rescued by XCOM. She doubted the aliens would have tried taking care of her, and the room she was in was distinctly _alien_ based on the shimmering gray metal and subconscious throbbing in the back of her mind. So that meant at least some XCOM soldiers had survived.

She hoped Iosif had made it.

The multicolored shield that constituted her ‘door’ suddenly dissipated and a bald man in a medical uniform walked in, a tablet in his hand. She’d seem him before, he’d been one of the soldiers who apparently was also a Praesidium Medic. “Calm down, Nuan,” he said slowly and deliberately as she jerked her head in his direction. “It’s going to be alright.”

“My arms are gone and that alien destroyed us like we were nothing!” She hissed. “How could it be _alright_?”

His forehead furrowed and lips parted slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t speak Chinese.”

Oh, right. She consciously made sure she was speaking English to answer him now, although the initial burst of fury had dissipated, leaving only exhaustion. “It doesn’t look alright to me, doctor…”

“Harkin,” he answered. “Blake Harkin. I’m sure you’ve seen me around. I double as the chief battlefield surgeon when I’m not on missions. And it’s not as bad as it looks, trust me.”

Nuan attempted to relax, trying to ignore the feeling of _nothing_ where her hands should be. “The others…?”

“Iosif, Carmelita, Esinam, and Cassandra managed to get out,” Harkin reassured her, consulting his tablet. “The Templars are the main reason you’re still alive. They pulled you out after you were wounded and called for an extraction nearby. They got everyone alive out before the Battlemaster remembered to kill them.”

Ok…that was some good news. “And the battle?”

Harkin grimaced. “No good news there. After XCOM evacuated the main ADVENT force received orders to retreat and enact contingency plans. They made the aliens pay dearly, but as it stands, the city of Las Vegas no longer exists.”

Nuan didn’t care at all about the city, it could eventually be rebuilt if the Americans really wanted it. But it seemed like such a waste of life now. What did they have that could possibly stop the Battlemaster? All fighting him seemed to accomplish was getting people killed, and had it not been for a liberal dose of luck, she would have been one of them.

“What about the other battles?” She suddenly recalled, also vaguely noting that he’d been on the Paris operation.

He scratched his chin as he hesitated answering, and she absentmindedly noted that the light shining down on him briefly highlighted the almost imperceptible hexagons on his skin. Gene-modded. Huh, she hadn’t known that. “We succeeded in pushing the aliens out of Paris,” he began slowly. “Although there were some complications. We did manage to recover one of their transports and a Gateway. Lost Iida, but we were lucky all things considered. Seattle though…the aliens control what’s left of it. XCOM was overwhelmed and was forced to retreat, and ADVENT didn’t have the numbers to hold.”

She supposed it was good Paris was safe. They’d probably join ADVENT now because of it. “Wasn’t there another city?” She remembered. “Botelan?”

“ _Portland_ ,” he corrected automatically. “News is…mixed. ADVENT _did_ manage to hold it, but we don’t know how long they can stay. The aliens, instead of striking the city proper, hit the utilities leading to it. Water, power, electricity, supplies. ADVENT doesn’t know how long they can hold the city without it becoming unfeasible. And the aliens didn’t take many casualties, although thankfully ADVENT didn’t either.”

“And everything is ‘alright’.” She repeated dully. “You Americans are optimistic.”

“Well, you’re clearly feeling better,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I was more referring to your injuries than the current state of the war. I assume the Commander will be making some changes to our strategies in the coming days. Hopefully that Ethereal actually decides to help instead of sitting around doing nothing.”

Nuan glanced down at the stumps of her arms. “So what will you do?”

Harkin set down his tablet and fixed her with a stare that didn’t exactly instill confidence. “We can do a lot with MELD,” he began. “But we can’t regrow limbs. Haven’t really tried, truth be told, but that isn’t an option for you sadly. Which means you’ll be fitted with prosthetics if you want that. They’re functionally identical to the real thing and will actually be much stronger, if you want to look at the positives.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Considering my options, I’d rather have that than nothing. But…how similar is it to my- _what_ my arms felt like? Is feeling there?”

Harkin’s lips twitched. “I know it’s not as sensitive as natural flesh, but like I said, it’s functional. There are forms of pain receptors, although they will be received differently by your brain. From speaking with some of the recipients, you won’t have the same… _delicacy,_ I believe is the right word. You’ll likely not be able to play the piano very well, but you’ll be able to write as good as ever.”

But she’d have hands…which was better than nothing. Still, she felt a wave of sadness wash over her as she realized that there would be some sensations she would never feel again. Although she knew she-

“[Damn!]” She abruptly swore to herself. She’d somehow forgotten that she couldn’t-no- _shouldn’t_ make any decisions without authorization by her superiors. Why had that not been the first thing she’d thought of when waking up? She didn’t even know if they wanted her _in_ XCOM anymore, let alone if she should be taking their tech.

_If you hadn’t been so loyal and gotten enhanced like Iosif suggested, you might have arms no-_

_No_. She quickly crushed that line of thought. She knew her place and followed her orders. Unless she got permission, she shouldn’t make decisions like this without permission. And she _certainly_ shouldn’t blame them for her condition now.

“It’s not that bad,” Harkin said, misinterpreting her outburst. “The Commander has one, and he’s described it as ‘different’ but it only takes some getting used to-“

“No! Not that,” she interrupted, sounding irritatingly emotions. “I need to contact my superiors.”

“Oh...” he said, nodding slowly. “Nuan, don’t worry about that. They’re appraised of your condition. They commended your bravery in fact. They also have authorized any prosthetics you need.”

“Show me,” she demanded. “I need official documents.”

Harkin smiled. “Lucky that Zhang demanded all of what they said in writing. Something about Chinese loyalty conditioning.”

She flushed as Harkin handed her his tablet. “Zhang can go straight to hell.” The insinuation that she was a conditioned puppet was almost as insulting to her as a criminal being so highly placed here. As if Zhang actually knew anything about _loyalty_ outside of money. She bet he was only here to avoid spending the rest of his life in jail.

Nuan glanced over the documents, and did confirm they were genuine. She felt a warm glow as she read the words commending her. Praise was rare, and she immediately relaxed when she realized that they actually did care about her. Good, good, she would have to write up a detailed report as soon as possible. They needed to know the extent of the threat about the Battlemaster.

“Thank you,” she told Harkin, handing the tablet back. “When will I receive my prosthetics?”

“You’re scheduled for tomorrow,” he answered with a smile as he tucked the tablet under his arm. “You’ll need an additional few days for recovery while you’re prosthetics are calibrated. Then you’ll need at least a week to get used to them, to retrain your brain to remember all the actions you knew; eating, holding a gun, lifting. You likely won’t be able to develop finer motor control right away. I’d say you’ll be out of any combat operations for at least two weeks, possibly three.”

That was a remarkably quick recovery time, she knew, but at the same time it seemed like an eternity. But it was probably needed. “Then I guess the sooner the better.” She paused, hesitating for some reason before speaking further. “Is Iosif fine?”

“Tired, but he’s recovering,” Harkin answered. “I don’t know what he’s been doing, honestly. I’m guessing the Commander’s debriefing him, and I know he’s spent a lot of time with Aegis. He did come by when you were out, and said he’d come visit sometime when you were awake. Might not be until after your surgery, although I’ll update him you’re up.”

She winced knowing that he’d come to see her when she was so…disfigured. Maybe he didn’t care as much, but she’d have preferred he had not seen her like that, it would be better if she was _whole_ , if not exactly the same. “Tell him I’d like to see him after I get my prosthetics.”

“Got it,” he said with a firm nod. “Any other questions?”

Nuan shook her head as best she could on the pillow. “Not right now.”

“Then I’ll leave you to rest,” Harkin said. “Your sacrifice has and will not be forgotten. The Commander wants you to know that, and that goes for all of us as well.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. All she’d done was fight like everyone else, and she’d gotten hurt for it. That she’d done her job didn’t make her feel more special than anyone else. Praise for something like that was strange…but she didn’t dislike it. It made her feel valued if nothing else, not just another soldier here.

“Thank you,” was all she said, closing her eyes.

At least she wouldn’t have to wake up too many times with the phantom pain where her arms had been.

***

_Lancer Operational Command, United States of America_

Saudia quite liked how the former USSOCOM Headquarters had been converted into now what was the headquarters of the Lancer division. From her understanding, it had formerly been known as the MacDill Air Force base and United States Special Forces just happened to have had a section to themselves.

That was gone now, and reorganized into a purely worldwide training and operations center. The Lancers were drawn from the best special forces units in the world, or at least those who hadn’t been recruited to XCOM. SEAL’s, Rangers, KSK, Special Forces Brigades; all working together and learning from each other.

Lancer Operational Command had also since been completely locked down to any civilian presence. Only the highest ranked in the ADVENT Military were able to enter; even representatives and politicians didn’t know the inner workings. Saudia had been sure to invest enough resources into making the Lancers the most effective and deadly special forces organization in the world, even aspiring to surpass XCOM, though that was unlikely.

Luckily the former Commander of the USSOCOM seemed to have a very good idea of how to effectively accomplish that goal. Helion Weekes was perhaps the most dangerous man she had promoted into a position of power. He didn’t command soldiers, he _was_ one through and through. He was even taller than she was, and visibly stronger as well, though not in his prime any more.

From his history she knew Weekes had been a Navy SEAL and been one of the best operatives. Once he couldn’t perform up to standards he transitioned to a command position, and a few years later he’d been in charge of the entirety of the United States Special Forces. Thus he’d seemed the perfect candidate to head a global equivalent. It helped that he was intelligent in addition to being a tactical mastermind.

Since being promoted, Weekes had been working with the Science and Engineering Agencies to ensure his soldiers were receiving the best equipment, in addition to closely following all ongoing developments. He’d also developed cross-national training regimes to eventually standardize the Lancer Corps into a superior fighting force, removing training and tactics that were inferior and only elevating the best.

In addition to that, he’d ordered construction of multiple science labs with genetic modification as a priority. Given that he hadn’t brought that up before, she was assuming that was going to be a topic of discussion in addition to the overall situation. That Dr. Tygan was also here indicated such, and of course Commander Christiaens was also present.

All of them stood around a holotable in the well-lit room, with the walls holding whiteboards and maps all marked with various markers and notes. This was clearly Weekes’s center of command. He stood opposite her, while Laura and Tygan were on opposite sides as they waited for him to start.

“The situation is bad,” he began, the deep baritone was often surprising to most for the first time in its intensity, which was unmitigated with age. “We know it, so I won’t repeat it again. The fact is that we need a solid plan. Sitting back and waiting for them to attack us is only going to cause us to lose ground and wastes soldiers.”

“I agree,” Laura said with a sigh. “Japan was unexpected and gave us a false impression of what we were facing. The fact is that our soldiers are inferior to a significant portion of the alien forces. And, to put it bluntly, they are too easy to kill.”

“The question then, is how we can solve that,” Saudia finished, clasping her hands behind her back. “We have a limited number of soldiers when compared to the aliens, and we can’t replenish them quickly. So we have to work on preserving the ones we have.”

“That’s only solving part of the problem,” Weekes shook his head in disagreement. “We’re acting too passive. We’re letting them come to us and not striking them where it hurts.”

“And where would you propose we strike?” Laura asked, raising an eyebrow. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re somewhat confined to one _planet_. It’s _impossible_ for us to strike anywhere that would hurt them.”

“I will only buy that excuse when Earth is completely ours,” Weekes shot back, crossing his arms. “The aliens _do_ control parts of Earth, right? That’s why we’re here after all. And how exactly can we _not_ reach those?

Saudia’s lips curled up at that point. He wasn’t entirely wrong. “I would say it is because the aliens are heavily fortified in the cities they control, Chief Weekes. But your point is correct. We cannot be passive forever. Should we rely on defenses to hold our ground, the Battlemaster will methodically destroy us.”

“Our method of handling the Battlemaster is also flawed,” Weekes added. “I think we can say for certain that throwing armies at him and expecting that to work is a bad idea. We need to start manipulating him; drawing him away from targets of interest, keeping him on edge. We need a _deterrent_.”

“If I may pose a query,” Tygan spoke for the first time, slightly inclining his head as he spoke. “Have we noticed him exhibit any caution to any of the current arsenal of the ADVENT Military?”

“He seemed eager to get out of a collapsing building in San Francisco,” Laura shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean much. Even he would probably suffocate trapped under tons of rubble.”

“I watched the combat footage in Las Vegas,” Weekes said thoughtfully. “Twice he seemed surprised, or at least reacted differently. When that XCOM soldier threw that grenade with flammable gas, he rushed out of the way. I also noted that he reacted very violently when that XCOM Templar attacked him with her swords. I did not see any visible damage, but it seemed to spook him rather quickly.”

“The symbiote weapon also seemed to slow him down temporarily,” Laura recalled with a nod towards her colleague. “Perhaps applied to a larger scale?”

“Mhmm, that is a feasible approach,” Tygan nodded. “I can speak to Dr. Munju on some potential applications. XCOM has also graciously forwarded a large number of research documents on their MELD and genetic engineering programs, presumably to assist us in enhancing their own forces.”

That more than anything made Saudia concerned. If XCOM was worried enough to share their own gathered information beyond essentials, it meant they didn’t think they had the time, or resources, to wait for ADVENT to advance to a point where it would pose a major threat. “Generous of them.”

“The Commander isn’t an idiot,” Weekes stated. “I know he’s probably hating the fact that he had to send them. But he knows XCOM isn’t enough to win. They’re skilled, but it will be us who win this war. Which brings me to how we should use this gift XCOM has given us.” He nodded to Tygan.

“Yes,” Tygan cleared his throat. “Several of the genetic enhancements XCOM has applied to their soldiers have been included here, in particular, the Iron Skin and Biomuscular Regeneration are of interest, as well as some that modify vision and disease resistance. I have determined that we can apply these enhancements to our own soldiers, should we choose to.”

“The other half of the problem,” Weekes continued, a fierce grin on his face. “We die too easily. We’re a physically weak species and that needs to change. Despite how it turned out, XCOM _did_ have the right idea with their Templars. They keep the Battlemaster _occupied_. More than that, the aliens don’t have much of an answer for them as their work in Paris proved.”

“I assume you have a suggestion?” Laura said.

“First and most obvious, I want the entire Lancer Corps to undergo extensive genetic modification,” Weekes began, raising a finger. “Second, both the Battlemaster and the Templars highlight a weakness in the alien army – Namely, that they have few counters for melee combat outside of the Berserkers and those Oyariah. We should exploit that.”

“How?” Laura asked. “Giving all of our soldiers swords as well?”

“No,” Saudia realized. “The Lancers.”

“Exactly,” Weekes finished with a smile. “Not the entire Corps, of course, perhaps a quarter. But we’ve seen both how well modified soldiers perform in combat from XCOM, and that the aliens will be devastated in close quarters. I’ve looked over the schematics for their weapons they sent over. We have an opportunity here. Chancellor, with respect, I don’t think we have a choice.”

“Yes, but I would caution being overzealous with our supply of MELD,” Tygan interrupted slowly. “Modifying the entire Corps would be a significant investment, and without facilities to make more, we could risk ‘putting our eggs in one basket’ so to speak.”

“But we _know_ how to manufacture MELD,” Laura pointed out. “So why aren’t we doing it?”

“It is largely due to the amount of, and limited supply of specific locations and components,” Tygan explained. “It also takes a respectable amount of time to manufacture in any large quantities-“

“Not good enough,” Saudia interrupted, raising a hand. “We need more. France has joined us. The EU will likely follow. I will be discussing plans in regards to building factories devoted exclusively to the manufacturing of MELD.” She looked at Weekes. “And you have my permission to proceed. Do what you think will suit us best. You have more experience than I in this. But do not waste our resources, do you understand?”

“Of course,” he answered, inclining his head. “And I never would ask unless it would have a tangible benefit.”

“Good,” Saudia nodded. “And as for your point about being idle…that needs to change. I have requested that XCOM join us for a joint operation. I expect they will respond soon and we can prepare an organized operation of retaliation.”

“Excellent,” Weekes said. “It is past time we begin to collaborate with them. They aren’t our rivals and whatever disagreements and tension between you and the Commander should stop. After all, we have larger problems to deal with.”

Saudia couldn’t entirely disagree, but then again, Weekes didn’t know the full context of what he was referring to.

The Commander would work with her, but he would never trust her.

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

“We need to make changes.”

The Commander saw little reason to not be completely blunt. Everyone here was under no illusions. Aegis didn’t need to be here unless he was actually on their side, and the Commander was thinking it best that until that happened, they needed to start planning to win without him. If Aegis really wanted to know what they were planning, he’d have to actually make himself useful in combat against the aliens. Tech wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

“I think that’s obvious, Commander,” Jackson said with a nod. “I’m assuming you have some in mind?”

“I wouldn’t have called this meeting if I didn’t,” the Commander said, nodding towards Vahlen at his side. “Vahlen has been helping me, but I need everyone’s input on this before going forward.”

Patricia crossed her arms. “I don’t suppose you have an idea for the Battlemaster?”

“I have some ideas,” the Commander answered. “The first thing I am doing is authorizing the Artemis Contingency against the Battlemaster. I know the risks, but he warrants them.”

Shen pursed his lips. “I’ll have some of my team begin working on weaponizing the MELD…but I do feel the need to warn you that this could ultimately backfire.”

“I know,” the Commander answered grimly. “But in terms of options, we don’t have many. Weaponized MELD might be enough to actually kill him. The only other options are nukes, collapsing buildings and swords out of whatever metal his equipment is made out of.”

“The MELD swords did seem to damage the armor,” Zhang noted. “That’s useful-“

“Except he threw them away the instant he noticed that,” Patricia interrupted with a scowl. “He’s not a fucking idiot. That’s the _problem_. Even this MELD weapon is going to really have _one_ chance to work and then he’ll know we have it. And what do you think he’s going to do when he sees a missile heading for him? Stand there and let it _hit_ him.”

“No,” the Commander said, smiling for the first time. “But I _do_ think there is a way we can play him a bit. Aegis told me that his UFO is equipped to detect nuclear activity. The moment he detects it, he bails out which does infer that a nuclear blast will kill him.”

Shen’s eyebrows furrowed. “That seems to be a large assumption. How exactly do you know he’ll flee if he detects nuclear activity?”

“Based on what Aegis has told me and my own observations,” the Commander answered. “The fact that the Battlemaster even _has_ his personal ship equipped specifically to detect it means that at the very least it’s a concern of his. Aegis has also stated on multiple occasions that the Battlemaster doesn’t like taking risks, and an unknown or unexpected variable suddenly entering the equation would raise the risk significantly, and perhaps entice him to pull back and reassess.”

“He definitely doesn’t even tolerate things he knows can hurt him,” Patricia noted, nodding. “Like I said before. The _instant_ he realized the swords could hurt him, he removed them. Thing is, one or multiple nuclear weapons heading towards him might be something he can’t personally handle. He doesn’t seem the type to risk his life unless the odds are something he can handle.”

“Then again,” Jackson shrugged. “It could be that he has common sense. I wouldn’t blame him at all if he got word of a nuclear missile incoming. I doubt even he could survive one, no matter what kind of bullshit magic armor he has.”

“Shocking,” Zhang said dryly.

“Sarcasm aside, it gives me an idea,” the Commander continued. “We don’t need to kill the Battlemaster to negate him. Just scare him away. Jackson…how feasible is it to fake nuclear signatures?”

Jackson’s eyes widened and she actually smiled. “I’d have to check that, but I don’t think it should be too hard. Vahlen might know more, actually.”

“Why even fake a signature?” Zhang asked. “Why not use live weapons and just not use them? Or even place them in cities as a deterrent. Sure, the Battlemaster _could_ risk us not blowing up our soldiers, but he knows who you are…and that you’d nuke a city just to kill him. Would he risk that?”

“That depends,” Patricia mused. “He might call our bluff…the question is if we _are_ prepared to blow up cities to kill him?”

“Of course we are,” the Commander sighed. “If that’s the only way to kill him. But I want to keep him guessing. If he always has the fear of nuclear weapons in the back of his mind, it might make him not directly participate until he comes up with a solution.”

“What I’m concerned about is that he _has_ to have prepared for something like this,” Shen noted slowly. “Or do you think this might be his weakness?”

“The unknown? Possibly,” the Commander shrugged. “However, if the Artemis Contingency fails, I’d much prefer him directing from the back than the front.”

“It sounds good,” Jackson nodded approvingly. “So what’s next?”

“We need more psions,” the Commander said. “The simple fact is that we’re far outnumbered and outgunned. So we can’t throw away people and treat everyone as disposable. The Templars performed as well as could be expected, and they’ll only get better. I’m going to expand that program and have Vahlen awaken as many psions as possible.”

Zhang narrowed his eyes. “The Manchurian Program-“

“Fuck the Manchurian Program,” the Commander sighed wearily. “It’s diverting our resources. I’m not worried about the potential of some psion going rogue. Not anymore. We need advantages, we need psions, we need everything we can get and wasting them on a safeguard that might not even be necessary is borderline moronic.”

He paused. “I’m not ordering research be stopped, but we need to prioritize. And another truth is that mandating that ADVENT shouldn’t have psions is self-defeating. I don’t completely trust Saudia, but I trust her willingness not to betray us now. ADVENT can recruit more, probably weaker psions than our own, and even a weak psion could make the difference.”

“That’s…surprisingly reasonable of you,” Shen commented, adjusting his glasses. “I didn’t think you’d risk giving ADVENT such a powerful tool.”

The Commander gave a humorless smirk at Shen. “I’m not going to be idiotic about it. When the Manchurian Program is complete, I will require that every ADVENT Psion undergo it, and _we_ have access to their code words. Until then, I think a small bomb in their heads will ensure they don’t do anything stupid.”

“Not without flaws, but it should suffice for now,” Zhang said with a single nod. “As much as I dislike Saudia, we do need more psions, and ADVENT is the best means of accomplishing the acquisition of mass quantities.”

“We can have some of our own train them if needed,” Patricia nodded. “Or maybe let ADVENT develop their own methods. Aegis will help me with the psions we have here, and Iosif and the other Templars can help others in the Program. When are you going to tell her?”

“ _We’re_ going to tell her,” the Commander said. “It’s time we both meet and make plans together regarding the future of the war. A joint meeting of XCOM and ADVENT Command. Patricia, Zhang and Jackson, you’ll come with me to meet them.”

Vahlen stepped forward. “Before the Commander gives some details regarding what will be discussed, I also think we need to push the genetic modification for our soldiers. We can’t have them dying from stray plasma bolts anymore. It might be necessary to make it mandatory.”

“After this, I think you’re going to get a lot of additional volunteers,” Jackson noted. “But we have to watch our MELD stores. We have a lot, but even modifying half our force will drain them significantly.”

“Which is why we’re going to change that,” the Commander said, looking towards Shen. “I want you to take Aegis’ plans for the MELD manufacturing plant, and make twelve of them. Jackson will secure off-base locations if you need it, but I don’t want to have to worry about MELD stores again.”

“Ah, I’ll begin work immediately,” Shen promised, blinking rapidly. “Although we’ll need some raw materials-“

“You’ll have them,” the Commander dismissed with a wave. “On a similar point, what are you doing with the Gateway and recovered alien tech from the Transport?”

“We’ve stripped the alloys from the craft, and are analyzing the intact alien computers,” Shen explained. “Aegis said he was surprised that there was no CODEX system installed, which means this was one of the earliest iterations of the craft.”

“Or the Battlemaster removed it in case we won,” Patricia noted. “Everything sent on that mission he had to be able to lose.”

“In any event,” Shen continued slowly. “The intact Gateway is one of the only solid positives to come out of that battle. Schematics and theories are useful, but having an actual Gateway to observe will speed along our research significantly. The alien computers will also, I believe, allow us enough to finally reverse-engineer them completely.”

“And finalize the Firestorm Project?” Vahlen asked.

“I should think so,” Shen nodded. “Our largest hurdle was replicating the alien systems we’ve recovered from other UFOs. In theory we could simply use intact alien computers for Firestorms, but that ultimately means we’d always be limited by how many computers we had. It will also help us with every system in the Praesidium that runs on alien tech.”

“Well done,” the Commander agreed. “Now, the last major point. I’m going to suggest that ADVENT end this pointless war in the Middle East once and for all, and we’re going to help.”

Jackson frowned. “Isn’t that in clear, ah, violation of us being apolitical?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” the Commander shrugged, not bothering to hide his irritation with the whole situation. “On one hand, of course it is. But on the other, this is a drain on resources that ADVENT could be using to put towards the aliens. The Middle East is just sitting there not being useful, and it all comes down to the war having a detrimental impact on the _actual_ war, and thus threatening humanity.”

The Commander rested his hands on the holotable, and fixed each of them with one unblinking glare. “We can end this war. So why shouldn’t we?”

No one disagreed.

Patricia finally spoke. “How then?”

The Commander straightened and his lips curled into a smile. “We cut off the heads.”

***

_Japan, Nakashibetsu_

_“[How is it daddy?]”_ Mari asked through the screen, her face taking up around half of it while Sandara stayed in the background, smiling to herself. _“[What are you doing?]”_

Ah, he’d missed them more than he realized. “[I’m keeping everyone safe from the aliens,]” he answered. “[I’m doing it with some really good people.]”

 _“[Did you shoot one?]”_ She asked.

 _“[Mari!]”_ Sandara chastised in the background.

Duri chuckled. “[Maybe, the fighting gets a little chaotic sometimes. But nothing for you to worry about. The aliens don’t stand a chance against us.]”

He sincerely wished he didn’t have to lie, but Mari didn’t need to know the horrors of war quite yet.

 _“[Well, duh,]”_ Mari said, rolling her eyes in exaggeration. _“[They’re scared of you.]”_

His chuckled was almost sad. “[I wish that were so.]”

 _“[Alright, the two of you off to bed,]”_ Sandara said, gently setting Nabi on the ground off her lap, and his younger daughter gave a final wave joined by Mari.

_“[Good night daddy, talk to you soon.]”_

Sandara hustled them off to bed and he waited until she eventually got back and let the facade drop. Damn, she looked like she was going to cry. _“[Tell me the truth,]”_ she said quietly. _“[How is it there, really?]”_

He was silent for a few minutes. “[Here? Not that bad, in all honesty. We’re heavily fortified and the aliens can’t make a move without getting slaughtered. But…well, I assume you’ve been watching the news?]”

A nod.

He grimaced. “[I guess it depends if they hit here next or not. If they do…it’s not safe for any of us. I don’t know if we’ll live or not. I’m not going to get myself killed by being stupid, but the aliens just seem to be _better_ than us.]”

 _“[Can’t you do something?]”_ She almost pleaded. _“[You’re on the front lines! Can’t you be transferred somewhere safer?]”_

He rubbed his forehead. “[I could, maybe. But this is where I’m best. My entire team has stayed alive so far, which is a small miracle in itself. All I would accomplish by asking to leave is condemning someone else to potentially die in my place. I don’t want that.]”

 _“[I know, I know,]”_ Sandara sighed, wiping her eyes. _“[But it’s awful living here alone. The girls make it bearable, but I’m terrified that one day I’m going to have a soldier show up at my door and tell me you died ‘heroically’ or some equally meaningless story.]”_

“[I’m sorry I can’t be there with you,]” Duri said quietly. “[With all my heart I want nothing more than to be with you right now. But we both knew this would happen one day. I’d say we were luckier than most. If it were any other place I’d have no problem with you living on-base, but Japan right now is no place for you or the girls. I won’t put you in danger willingly.]”

 _“[And I wouldn’t put the girls in danger like that,]”_ Sandara gave a weak smile. _“[You should see Mari. She’s so proud of you, she’d been telling everyone at school about how amazing you and all the other soldiers are. She’s made friends with a lot of girls going through the same thing. You would be proud of here.]”_

He felt some tears pricking his eyes as his wife spoke. “[We raised her well.]”

 _“[And I need to be happy for her,]”_ Sandara said. _“[She shouldn’t grow up afraid. None of them should. I’m glad you didn’t tell her what it’s really like. Not yet. She isn’t old enough yet.]”_

Duri nodded. “[Hopefully the war will be over by the time she’s old enough. I pray so anyway.]”

 _“[So do I,]”_ she nodded. _“[Please be safe. I love you.]”_

“[And I love you too,]” he answered back. “[I’m always thinking of you.]”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then the screen went black. Duri just sat there in the chair for a few minutes numbly staring at the screen. He just wanted to see and hug them again, but the time to do that looked to be nowhere in sight. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed them until now, which he’d unconsciously buried in his work and friends.

“You alright?” Cara’s voice asked from just outside the makeshift video-conference room.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes and standing. “It’s just…well, I miss them.”

She nodded, her blue eyes seeming brighter in the dim light. “No shit you do. Didn’t realize you even had a family until recently.”

“Not something I really feel the need to bring up,” he shrugged. “But what about you? Have a husband? Boyfriend? Family?”

She snorted. “No. Dates usually end poorly for me; guys can be idiots sometimes. For the best I think. Military doesn’t really fit that lifestyle.” She eyed him sideways. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he said. “Times like this I realize why it’s discouraged.”

“And as for family?” She shrugged. “No biological parents, at least none that I know of. I grew up in an orphanage for a time, me and my brother got adopted by another family. They’re in Florida thankfully. My brother is probably enlisting, like the patriotic fool he is.”

Duri chuckled. “And you’re just here out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Sorry, but I prefer my siblings alive,” Cara answered back, only sounding partially sarcastic. “He just thinks he’s the next great thing, but he’s not a soldier. I’m only here because I wanted to kill people.”

Duri started. “Sorry?”

“I met a lot of bad people growing up,” Cara said emotionlessly. “But I couldn’t do anything about it. I’d hate to think what might have happened if I hadn’t been adopted. But I never forgot and I made plans. It seemed simple at the time. Bad people didn’t deserve to live and the military killed bad people. Seemed like an easy join.”

She shrugged again, a bit more wearily. “I don’t know if I had a death wish or not. I always requested the most dangerous places, the hottest zones so to speak. Anything for a chance for me to actually remove some evil from the world.”

Duri was wondering where this was going. “And did you?”

“Remove evil? Nope,” she answered nonchalantly. “But I killed a bunch of scared kids in the War on Terror. Brainwashed scared men who believed in some release from their miserable lives. Saw a lot of action in that war, killed a lot more people. Some of them bad, but it wasn’t at all like I’d thought. It was the exact opposite of satisfying, revolting almost. You don’t shoot a teen in the head and come out alright.”

Her lips twitched. “Killing people fucks with your head, no matter who you are. There’s a reason veterans wake up screaming in the night. There’s stuff in their head that they _did_. I can handle it. But I don’t want it. My brother isn’t like me. He’d never be the same again in a war. And no, them being aliens doesn’t make a difference. They bleed, they scream, they die. They clearly think, they have some kind of emotions. I’m not a patriot Duri, I’m only here so someone else doesn’t have to be.”

She waved absentmindedly. “Guess you didn’t need to hear all that, but hey, you asked. Keep it to yourself alright, I don’t talk about it with everyone.” And with that she turned and walked off, leaving him alone.

He’d had no idea she’d had such a traumatic past. She’d certainly never shown it before.

Maybe that was the point. She put up a front for people, just like his wife did for their daughters.

“Don’t worry,” he told the air. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

***

_Tehran, Iran_

Roman stood together with the rest of the Shieldbearer Officers and ranking staff. The Colonel General apparently had something he wanted to update all the command staff on. He personally hoped that it was news about how the war was progressing in other parts of the Middle East. Iran had taken up several months, and there was still a decent amount of territory left.

All of them were in full combat armor, with the helmets off of course. If there was one thing Roman saw that was common with all of them, it was that they looked utterly exhausted. Not necessarily about the war, but that they were wasting their time. Sure, the Middle East probably had some value, but compared to what was happening in America, all of them were itching to actually fight something that was worth their time.

And the Middle East certainly was _not_.

But they did their jobs, like good soldiers.

Ivan Frolov stood in front of them, table before him which held nothing but a map, and a projector displayed it on the wall behind him as well. He was with two people Roman had never seen before, one of which was a fairly short and bald woman wearing the uniform of an ADVENT Officer, helmet removed of course. Interestingly enough her armor was a dull gray, not the traditional red he’d seen from the other officers. Her fair skin and softer features indicated that she wasn’t local or likely Russian either. American probably.

The other person was a man wearing no armor, but a black uniform of sorts that held no badges or means of identification, but if Roman had to guess, he was ADVENT Intelligence. Possibly Kidon since his skin was a darker brown, and he had heard him speaking with a noticeable Israeli accent.

Roman didn’t like him just based off his body language and false voice. Intelligence agents always made him uncomfortable, and the fact he felt the same way around this guy definitely made him think he was right in thinking this man was a spook.

“For the benefit of our guests, we will begin,” Ivan said, speaking English presumably for the two beside him to understand. It was a good thing most of them knew English, though Roman could hear some in the back mumbling to each other, translating to their friends who didn’t know. He presumed Ivan knew about it, which was why he paused after he began.

“This is Marshal Amy Kilian,” he continued, nodding to the woman. “And Operator Moshe Emanuel, from the American and Israeli Divisions respectively. They’ve been spearheading the American and Israeli operations below Israel.”

“And we personally thank you for your contributions to taking Iran,” Moshe said, inclining his head in respect. “Israel Command personally thanks you for your sacrifice here, and we will never forget your help.”

Well, it was the least they could do. Oddly enough Roman felt he was being sincere, and really, why wouldn’t he? Not every day you had major world powers working to help you take revenge. Because that was ultimately what this was about. The Middle Eastern nations had done something stupid and killed people in their government. Israel retaliated, with extreme prejudice.

Not that Roman didn’t like it, but thanking them seemed more like an obligation than anything.

“ADVENT wants this war ended,” Ivan continued. “I’ve received that loud and clear from the top. Based on recent events, I think we can all agree with that. Last I heard they are still planning details about what exactly the strategy will be, but Chief Weekes, Commander Christiaens, and the Chancellor herself are involved in this personally.”

That was actually significant news. The Commander and Lancer Chief in particular meant that ADVENT actually was not fucking around anymore. Which meant that this would be a _massive_ operation when it actually happened. And if it was bad enough that _they_ were getting involved, then it probably wasn’t going to be particularly gentle either.

Good.

“As of right now we’re unaware of the details of the plan,” Marshal Kilian continued, clasping her hands behind her back. “But we suspect it will involve taking out the leadership of the remaining nations opposed to us. But before we can proceed, everyone needs to be updated as to the status of the war itself.” She nodded to Moshe.

“Syria, Iraq, Jordan, and nearly half of Saudi Arabia are now under ADVENT control,” he said, pointing to the respective countries on the map. “Israeli strike forces have severely destabilized Yemen and Oman, and the American Division is preparing teams at this moment to take their capitals. With that we’ll have the capital of Saudi Arabia completely surrounded.”

“How is the Royal Family reacting?” One of the Shieldbearers asked.

“As expected,” Amy shrugged nonchalantly. “They’ve imposed martial law on the remaining cities they own and are pulling in every favor they can. They still have many foreign connections, especially in Russia and America and they’ve been leveraging them for money, resources and influence. Riyadh is a fortress that even we will be hard pressed to take.”

Moshe smiled lazily. “However, ADVENT Intelligence has identified the contacts the Royal Family has been leveraging, and all of them are being prosecuted or sitting in jail cells now. They don’t have anyone left, and no allies they can call on. They will not surrender.”

Roman wasn’t entirely unhappy with that. As satisfying as it would be to see the Saudi King humiliate himself by surrendering, it would be far more satisfying for him to be dragged out into the street. Better yet, shot in the head. Maybe the rest of the family too. As far as he knew, there was no one worthy of any consideration in the Royal Family.

If there was, they’d have done something by now. Or knowing how those animals thought, they would have been killed for daring to suggest something as heretical as ‘surrender’.

“This leaves Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Afghanistan and Pakistan,” Ivan said, pointing towards the respective countries. “We have already started offensives in Turkmenistan, and we’ve received word that India is willing to help take Pakistan when the time comes.”

No surprise there. Roman knew that India and Pakistan hated each other, though didn’t know why. Which raised an interesting question. “Is India part of ADVENT?” He asked.

“Not currently,” Amy clarified. “However, I am under the impression that negotiations are taking place between the two parties. Their proximity to China is a matter of some concern, I believe. And it is entirely possible that they want to take control of Pakistan and I would not be surprised if ADVENT allows them to have it if they help, and respectively join.”

The soldiers in the room nodded. If it got India into ADVENT, Pakistan was a small price to pay. That would boost the war effort _drastically_. They had one of the largest populations in the world, along with the industrial power and resources to match.

Ivan’s face suddenly turned harder. “Pakistan in particular will need to be handled delicately, as they are a minor nuclear power in the region. The only ones aside from Israel to have that capability in the Middle East.”

Roman frowned and everyone around him began murmuring to themselves. “I thought their program was dismantled in the War on Terror?” One soldier asked.

“Halted, not dismantled,” Moshe corrected. “Or so we’ve been able to find out. Official records are…difficult to come by. Pakistan had been conducting nuclear research long before the Commander showed up, and with what the Indian Intelligence Bureau has been sharing with us, China likely helped them become a nuclear power, presumably to keep India in check.”

Well, this was definitely a problem. It was one thing to invade Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the like because the threat they posed was minimal. Their armies were outdated and tactics ineffective. Roman actually figured that the Pakistani army would be largely the same way. But if they had nukes, and their country was in danger of falling, Roman doubted that ADVENT could properly stand against even a small nuclear arsenal, much less the fallout afterwards.

“What are we specifically dealing with here?” He asked. “Do we have numbers? Equipment?”

Moshe and Amy exchanged a look. “The Intelligence Bureau estimates Pakistan has between fifteen and thirty-five nuclear weapons,” Moshe began. “We’re also not entirely positive of the distribution between missiles and bombs, but we suspect they have more missiles than bombs. And they _might_ have one nuclear submarine. Perhaps two. The warheads themselves are likely being stored at a minimum of five separate silos and hidden locations. Nuclear launch procedures are not currently known, and ADVENT Intelligence and the Intelligence Bureau are working to ascertain said procedures.”

“Then what’s the plan of action?” Another Shieldbearer asked, her features scrunched in worry. “We go marching in, they shoot nukes. It’s not like they’ll have anything to lose. Sure, they all die, but they go out in a blaze of glory so to speak.”

“Like I said, it is being handled delicately,” Ivan placated. “I have been assured that ADVENT will not move forward until there is a plan in place to deal with the nuclear problem. But I am aware that the Lancers will take part, as well as top agents from XCOM Intelligence. And if negotiations continue well, the best of the Indian Para Special Forces.”

That ADVENT seemed to have a plan regarding this, or at minimum a healthy understanding of what they were dealing with was reassuring. A shame XCOM wasn’t getting involved, since they could probably make all of this simple by sending in one of those psions. What little he’d heard about them was…unsettling…to say the least, but in this case, mind control might actually be justifiable here.

Assuming all the stories coming out of America and Japan were true, of course.

“What about Kazakhstan?” Another Shieldbearer asked after a few seconds of silence.

“In talks, oddly enough,” Ivan said, his tone audibly lighter. “They’ve never been a major problem historically, and naturally want to keep their independence. Negotiations are going well, last I heard. Considering their strong relations with Uzbekistan, I believe ADVENT wants them to leverage them into surrendering to ADVENT control. I find it unlikely we’ll have to fight them, and they’ll also likely join ADVENT.”

Roman nodded. Since Kazakhstan shared a border with Russia, he knew a little about it. Though not that much, honestly, which was likely a point in their favor since the countries he tended to know a lot about were ones he was enemies of.

“What are they doing to prepare for us?” Someone asked. “Will they surrender?”

“Unlikely at this point,” Moshe shook his head. “They’re preparing as best they can. We can be thankful none of them ever developed nuclear weapons, else this would potentially be a problem. As it stands, they really have nothing that will stop us except time. They’ve apparently tried to solicit help from China, but have been stonewalled completely.”

Made sense. There was no way China was going to back a clearly losing side, much less _deliberately_ antagonize ADVENT and XCOM. China wasn’t run by complete idiots, for better or worse, just very arrogant and prideful people.

Eh, China was something for people smarter than him to figure out.

“Now, for us, we will likely move into Afghanistan next,” Ivan continued, his hard gaze sweeping the room. “Once Israel and America clean up Saudi Arabia, they will assist us in taking the remaining nations. Depending on how negotiations go, we could have support from India and Kazakhstan as well. In short, this war is coming to a close and I suspect it will happen sooner than later.”

Roman smiled. Things were finally coming together. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wait too long before the fighting started. He could feel the energy in the room from the other soldiers, their spirit renewed after learning how close the war could be to actually ending. They were ready to finish it.

All they needed was the word.

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Control, United States of America_

“The operation was largely a success,” Elizabeth finished, handing Saudia a piece of paper with a list of names. “These are the instigators and anarchists we arrested, all currently being held and awaiting prosecution. My agents’ evidence is indisputable, and I’m already ordering interrogations on some of the more influential ones for details on their groups.”

“Good,” Saudia nodded, glancing over at Stein who was standing straight and still at the other side of the table. “Both of you did good work. People are scared, but there aren’t riots in the streets.”

“I think we need to take the initiative now,” Stein stated bluntly. “Some of these people were connected to known anarchist groups, and there are others who have equally dangerous influence. That’s sufficient evidence in the Advent Directive to mandate the disbanding of their groups.”

“Assuming you’re referring to Antifa, it isn’t that simple,” Elizabeth mused, starting to pace. “They have a loose command structure, if you could even call it one. The problem is that it’s an ideology, and ideologies are hard to kill. You know about Anonymous?”

Stein raised an eyebrow. “That hacker group that had a big mouth?”

Saudia snorted at the description, and Elizabeth chuckled. “Yes, that’s the one. Effectiveness aside, they made Anonymous into something of a cultural phenomenon because they openly stated that it _was_ an idea. It was something _anyone_ could be. Antifa is similar, if more violent. Taking out their leaders won’t accomplish much because they know their strength is in decentralization.”

“This is still a simple problem,” Stein shrugged. “You just find the participants and arrest them. Kill the entire movement, not just the leaders. Instill terror in anyone even _thinking_ of joining them. People are squeamish about using that word, but _terror_ is more effective than leniency.”

“In certain cases,” Saudia interrupted. “Or it could have the opposite effect. We could do as you say and make this as public as possible. I think that is a bad idea simply due to the climate at the moment. The last things people need right now is to feel more terrified. Terrified people can sometimes feel they have nothing to lose.”

She glanced at Elizabeth. “That being said, I agree with Stein that these people need to be dealt with. But I want it done quietly.”

“I have a possible solution,” Elizabeth said suddenly, actually pausing her pacing. “One of the greatest strengths these people have is coordination and _belonging_. If they could be isolated, they could be negated since I highly doubt most of these people have actually met in person. The solution might actually be simple – we let them speak, but silence them.”

Stein frowned. “Come again?”

“I believe the internet term is _shadowbanning_ ,” Elizabeth explained. “In essence, it allows a person to post on a certain site, but no one else can see what they post. Essentially placing someone in a glass box that they can see out of, but not actually interact with. They would still have the illusion of freedom, but no one else could see it. Social media in particular is susceptible to this.”

Saudia scratched her chin. “What of the opposite effect? I presume it would be possible to amplify a voice or idea?”

“It certainly is,” Elizabeth nodded, smiling. “However, the Directive does have some restrictions on the extent to which we can interfere.  Invisible promotion of certain ideologies is only acceptable to placate a populace on the verge of panic strong enough to destabilize ADVENT.”

“I’m not sure this would qualify then,” Stein noted dryly. “We’re not quite at that point yet.”

“That depends,” Saudia recalled. “I believe such an action has to be approved by either the Congress of Nations, or the Executive, Military, Peacekeeper and Intelligence branches jointly reaching the same conclusion. At least four of the five are needed, and that would give us that power for three months.”

“Requirements for evidence are strict though,” Elizabeth warned. “But I do think we have enough to make a case.”

“Then I want you to put something together with Treduant or Savvin,” Saudia said. “If this gets put through the Congress first, then the media won’t just be able to say this is some sort of power grab.”

Stein snorted. “The media can go to hell. What exactly can they do anyway? Strongly disapprove?”

“People watch the news in fact,” Elizabeth said dryly, eyeing Stein. “It’s still a massive demographic, and one we don’t entirely control. Speaking of which, Chancellor, the media is not exactly happy with you.”

She sniffed. “What a surprise.”

“They’re being clever about it,” Elizabeth said, grimacing. “But the insinuation is clearly that ADVENT is failing and you are unfit to lead. They’re not going overboard with defamatory stories, not quite yet, but they are clearly cherry-picking coverage that paints you in a bad light.”

Stein frowned. “Aren’t there provisions in the Directive that require full context? Otherwise they’re breaking the law.”

“Not in _opinion_ segments,” Elizabeth corrected. “Which is where a larger amount of the insinuations are coming from. The problem is that people don’t know how to separate fact from opinion, and they’ll trust these so-called ‘news anchors’ blindly without checking for themselves.”

“People are stupid,” Stein shrugged. “What else is new? But even still they can’t flat-out lie.”

“Hence why I said _insinuations_ ,” Elizabeth clarified again. “Bad news is that they’re targeting Treduant next it seems. Canadian media hates us for obvious reasons. Russia is fine, but it’s state-owned for the most part. Europe is right now running a lot of anti-ADVENT pieces. France joining is worrying for them, and they aren’t under the same restrictions media in ADVENT is.”

“Which I assume amounts to calling us a totalitarian nightmare,” Saudia guessed dryly. “Amusing. But I am not worried about them. Fear mongering only works until the aliens come. France was a warning to the people, and until the EU puts up their own plan, people are going to want to join the ones who are actually doing something about the alien problem.”

“Well, I’m ready to move whenever you give the word,” Stein said. “You said there are plans to end the war in the Middle East?”

“Yes there are,” Saudia nodded, her lips curling into a smile. “Both of you will be coming to the meeting with XCOM. It sounds like they want this war ended as badly as we do.”

Stein actually frowned. “Chancellor, that is more concerning than anything else. I thought XCOM was adamant about not getting involved.”

“So I thought,” Saudia shrugged. “But I suppose they came around.”

Stein narrowed her eyes. “From my few meetings with the Commander, I highly doubt that is the case. The only reason I can think of that they would suddenly be willing to help is if they were scared and know something we don’t.”

Saudia’s smiled slowly faded. That had admittedly not crossed her mind. “A fair point.”

Stein shrugged. “Just warning you that I doubt XCOM is making this decision out of the goodness of their hearts or they saw the light or some other crap. The Commander is practical first and foremost. The only reason I can see him doing this is if he genuinely believed he didn’t have a choice.” She paused. “Just be aware of that when talking to them.”

Saudia nodded, wondering how much she should press the Commander for in private. If he really _was_ this worried, it did not sound good for any of them.

***

_Switzerland, ADVENT Command_

This was going to be interesting.

Saudia brushed back her hair and checked her uniform to make sure everything was in place. She didn’t have the time or inclination to go to Canada, but she was certainly going to be as professional as possible when speaking to the Prime Minister via video conference. Low tech, especially with holographic displays being implemented in most ADVENT command centers, but she could make do.

She suspected that Prime Minister Murphy was not going to be entirely happy to see her, and the feeling was mutual. Nonetheless, they now needed Canada as a practical necessity. The situation had become more serious, and they needed to reassess their decisions. Her options were more limited, and she hoped he could see that.

The screen suddenly flashed and displayed Murphy’s face, and the Prime Minister was wearing his standard political attire, which amounted to a well-pressed suit. She couldn’t really see anything below that, and it didn’t matter. “Prime Minister,” she greeted cordially. “I trust you are well?”

 _“I am, Chancellor, and I thank you for your concern.”_ She wondered if he was being mildly sarcastic, though couldn’t tell it in his voice. _“I am sorry about recent events. What the American population is dealing with right now is terrible.”_

She actually believed he was being sincere here, but only because he had specifically noted the _population_ , not the leadership or even ADVENT. Fit with his psyche profile. “Your concern in appreciated,” she answered, inclining her head. “We are doing our best to assuage the concerns of the public and reassess our strategies.”

 _“No doubt,”_ he nodded, and went silent.

There was nothing spoken between them for just over a minute. Saudia finally sighed. “I won’t sugarcoat this, Prime Minister, we both know why we’re speaking. I did not agree with your decision before, but I could work around it. I think we can agree that the situation has changed, has it not?”

 _“The situation in America has changed,”_ he answered evenly. _“Canada is unaffected, last I checked.”_

She carefully kept her face expressionless, though glared daggers into his irritatingly calm face. “Indeed you are correct,” she said coolly. “The American situation has indeed become more serious. To be blunt, we are losing ground and need a way to halt the alien advance. In the interest of complete and full disclosure, we need Canada now. There is very little choice here.”

 _“There is always choice,”_ he answered. _“Tell me, Chancellor, do the aliens control territory from border to border? Is there a straight line of aliens that just ends on the Canadian border? If not, then I do not see why allowing you to pass through our borders is necessary.”_

He was arguing damn semantics. She would think he was an idiot if she didn’t know that wasn’t the case. The problem was that he was a damn _civilian_ pacifist. “It’s not quite so simple,” she explained. “Of course the aliens don’t have something as simple as a line to prevent us from flanking them. But they do have sensors, they likely have satellites and scouts scanning the immediate area on their front line.”

She paused, thinking how best to illustrate this. “What Canada allows us to do is move large divisions that don’t only strike the aliens from an unexpected angle, but from where they are _weak_. Imagine, Prime Minister, if the ADVENT army struck Seattle again and began marching south. Suddenly the aliens are at risk of cities between ADVENT and the coast being cut off. They halt their advance, they pull back, and we begin boxing them in. That simply cannot be accomplished by moving within our borders.”

 _“And I suspect we would then be involved in your war,”_ Murphy said slowly. _“I will also be blunt, Chancellor, I don’t entirely believe you can win. I’ve followed your conflicts. You’ve lost, XCOM has lost. The aliens are more advanced than us. What exactly are you accomplishing by throwing lives away? Let me pose a question to you: If you lose, will the aliens treat you better or worse than if you just surrendered?”_

Saudia realized her fists were clenched in white-hot fury at this coward’s _blindness_. “I will not be responsible for enslaving the Human race to these aliens,” she almost snarled. “If you really believe these aliens will show mercy, you have not been paying attention. You saw the recorded footage from the Sectoid Hive. You saw what they were doing to us. You saw them take Australia. If you want to condemn your people to that fate, then I cannot do anything to dissuade you of that. But I would rather die than live under the thrall of an alien master.”

 _“You are too emotional,”_ he said, lips set in a thin line. _“It’s going to be worse when you finally lose, and despite that, if you were anyone else, representing anyone else, I would help you. But I will not put my people under the thumb of a different master. I will not subject them to ADVENT willingly. Do I make myself clear, Chancellor?”_

“You will not allow us to move within your borders?” She demanded icily.

 _“No,”_ he answered flatly. _“My answer has not changed, and it will not. I can make it no clearer than that.”_

Saudia took a deep breath. “Understand very carefully what you are saying, Prime Minister. By doing this you will stand in opposition to ADVENT protecting humanity. You might be annexed. Do _I_ make myself clear?”

He surprisingly smiled. _“No, Chancellor, you will not do anything outside speak empty threats. You are powerless to do anything. You have armies, you have influence, but you only keep it because you put so much effort into convincing people that you are benevolent and the ‘right side’. If you go so far as to annex a country that did nothing more than say ‘no’ to you, then you will be showing the world exactly what you are.”_

_“And this is what you are, Chancellor. You are a tyrant. You are prideful. You are emotional. You hide all of this from the people, but there can be no hiding such an act, there can be no justifying it in the eyes of the people. Do you really think the world will just accept you? Knowing that you’ll destroy anyone who dares speak against you?”_

A pause. _“No, Chancellor, they will not. So I do not fear your empty threats Chancellor Vyandar, your words are as hollow as your promises for a better life or hope against the aliens. You can certainly try, but know that you will not only make me a martyr, but the great nation of Canada as well. If that is required to have the world strip you of power…then I accept that. Good day, Chancellor, I wish you good fortune in your war.”_

And the screen flashed to an idle setting.

Saudia stood there, both stunned at his audacity and his ignorance.

Yet she couldn’t help but almost admire him in a way. No, _respect_. He might be the embodiment of ignorance and idiocy when it came to the aliens, but he actually had a spine which is more than she could say for most people.

Unfortunately, he had sealed his fate with that little speech.

By refusing to help, Canada now stood in direct opposition of ADVENT operations that protected the entire Human race, and was eligible for annexation. Prime Minister Jace Murphy was no longer fit to hold office over Canada and the entire legislature was also no longer reliable.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Treduant’s number. _“Yes, Chancellor?”_ She answered after Saudia had waited a minute to connect.

“Have your representative call for a special session in Congress,” she said coldly. “Canada has met the requirements for annexation. I want legislation introduced now.”

Silence on the other end. _“I’ll need justifiable evidence_.”

“You’ll have it,” Saudia promised. “I will begin gathering the needed authorizations on my end. Bring Iseul, Savvin, and Nowinski on this as well.”

 _“I’ll start now,”_ Treduant answered, sadness in her voice. _“I wish it hadn’t come to this.”_

“As do I,” Saudia said grimly. “But they made their choice. Now they must face the consequences.”

***

_Command Chamber, Mars Forward Observation Station_

The haptic shield dissipated as the Battlemaster strode into the room that only held one other occupant. Caelior stood in the center of the room, which was displaying a holographic projection of the first battle of Japan captured by one of the Overseer UFOs. Caelior was looking at the recreation of Patricia, her hand extended towards the aliens she was controlling.

“I have been analyzing their tactics here,” Caelior said as he turned his attention to the Battlemaster. “I understand my mistakes. Now the humans will not be able to stop me when I launch our retaliation.”

The Battlemaster gave a single nod. “And you will be accompanying them?”

Caelior raised one hand, palm up. The Battlemaster felt the room begin vibrating, and the metal and glass visibly shook, even his armor became slightly uncomfortable. “I will do more than accompany them,” he stated, venom lacing his voice. “The Humans are inferior and will not be able to stop me. I will crush their cities and splatter their armies. When Japan lies in ruins, I will move to the next country until Humanity submits or dies.”

He had spirit, if nothing else. But there were rules to follow. “Only destroy the cities if needed. We will need some form of shelter to establish our hold. It will delay us to build bases in ruins.”

“The voice of reason as ever, Battlemaster,” Quisilia said cheerfully, walking in with a purring cat in his lower arms. “But I wish you would impose some rule on melodrama.” He glanced over at Caelior, who was staring at Quisilia with unmasked irritation. “Honestly, do you understand how ridiculous you sound?” His voice became a poor imitation of Caelior’s. “ _’I will crush their skulls beneath my hands and bathe in the blood of my enemies. I will tear them apart limb from limb!’_ Please, we’re not savages.”

“ _Leave,”_ Caelior hissed. “Or I will turn that little feline into white and red paste.”

Quisilia straightened and reassuringly petted the cat which purred up at him. “I doubt it, Little Storm. If you do, I’ll cut off one of your hands. Maybe two.” He set the cat on the ground, and it trotted out of the room, which amusingly told the Battlemaster that he was mildly concerned Caelior would follow through on his threat. “But I am going to be helpful here. You’re underestimating the Humans. Badly. What exactly are you going to do? Do the exact same thing, except you’ll be down there?”

“I have elevated some aliens to serve as overseers,” Caelior answered. “But my presence alone will-“ He hissed in surprise as Quisilia’s hand flashed and a dagger was suddenly buried in Caelior’s arm.

The blade was suddenly torn out and flew back into Quisilia’s hand, blue blood covering it and beginning to leak down his arm, even as the flesh itself began visibly healing. “This isn’t a game,” Quisilia stated, all humor gone from his voice. “Did you forget _Aegis_ is down there? Do you really think he doesn’t know how to beat you? Kill you? Do you think he somehow hasn’t shared that little bit of information with XCOM?”

Quisilia hissed as he was suddenly telekinetically lifted into the air, Caelior’s lower hand clenched into a fist. “You give these Humans too much credit,” he growled. “Their weapons will not touch me, let alone _kill_ me.”

“Little fool,” Quisilia sighed and Caelior suddenly groaned. Quisilia then dropped to the ground, staring at the Ethereal that had now fallen to one knee. The Battlemaster let him be; Caelior needed some lessons beaten into him, and he’d been coddled for too long. “I don’t suppose you realize that XCOM has _lasers_ , yes? How exactly will you stop _those_? How exactly are you going to stop someone shooting you in the back? I wounded you from the _front_ and you couldn’t stop me.”

Quisilia knelt down in front of an audibly panting Caelior, and pulled out a smartphone of all things. “Think very carefully before you dismiss what we have to say, Little Storm,” he said, pointing the smartphone at the Ethereal visibly in pain. “And if you ever try that little trick again, I will post this to twitter and make you the laughingstock of the Humans. Stop believing you’re somehow superior. I shouldn’t have to remind you that the Ravaged One _died_ , and Aegis _defected_.”

Quisilia stood, even as Caelior groaned. “Do you wonder how the Battlemaster is winning so easily? It’s because he takes this seriously. He doesn’t consider every victory an absolute. He _respects_ his enemies, and he _certainly_ doesn’t make childish rants promising bloody vengeance.”

Quisilia put the phone away. “Think about that, Little Storm. The days of your incompetence are over, and if you still fail to learn, I will consider your death a benefit.” With that, Quisilia turned and strode out of the room, leaving a mentally tormented Caelior and silent Battlemaster alone. He considered himself above such displays of terror, but he did find some satisfaction in Quisilia reminding Caelior that he wasn’t invincible.

So while he waited for Caelior to recover, he decided to see what exactly Caelior had planned, and if needed, improve it. He glanced over to see Caelior had still not recovered, and figured that he’d be that way for a while.

Quisilia didn’t give lessons people forgot quickly.

***

_Switzerland, ADVENT Command_

As far as the Commander knew, this was the first time so many high-ranking and influential members of ADVENT and XCOM had come together to put together a plan of action. He recognized some of them from the brief meeting before Japan was attacked, even if he didn’t know them well outside their positions.

There was Helion Weekes, the Chief of the Lancer Corps. The Commander almost wished he could work for XCOM, since his record was one of the most impressive he’d seen. Saudia had chosen well in picking him for the role. Commander Christiaens and Elizabeth Falka were also here, in addition to Amalda Stein.

That was the leadership of the Lancers, ADVENT Military, ADVENT Intelligence and the Peacekeepers all in one room. And he’d brought along Patricia, Zhang, and Jackson. All of them stood around the holotable, ready to finally begin. “I am assuming everyone is aware of each other, by reputation if nothing else,” Saudia began, looking around the table. “With that in mind, we should begin. Commander, welcome.”

The Commander nodded beside her. “I’m glad we were able to set this up so quickly.”

Laura gave a humorless smile. “Don’t think we can afford not to, Commander. I’m assuming you’ve come to the same conclusion.”

“That I have,” he agreed, glancing at Saudia. “Chancellor, would you like to begin, or should I?”

“You first,” she relented, letting him take the center.

The Commander stepped forward and waited a few seconds before speaking. “The war in the Middle East has gone on long enough. All it is now is a drain on resources until every hostile nation is captured. In light of recent events, I do not think we can afford to drag it out any longer.”

“Agreed,” Weekes nodded. “We’re wasting time and soldiers.”

“Then how would you propose to speed it up?” Laura asked. “There are some things that cannot simply be bypassed.”

The Commander looked to his right. “Zhang?”

His Intelligence Director cleared his throat. “One thing that has become apparent as this war continues is that morale is fading drastically. These nation’s armies don’t want to fight, yet their governments are not going to surrender. ADVENT is solving the problem the wrong way. Yes, killing their armies will ultimately achieve victory, but it will take far longer.”

“The solution is simple,” the Commander continued, clasping his hands behind his back. “We execute the governments of these hostile countries. Remove them from the equation. They will not surrender, and they have forfeited that right long ago. They must be eliminated. Not captured, not negotiated with, _killed_.”

“There will be immediate chaos,” Stein warned after a few seconds, her brow furrowing. “Provided that everything goes according to plan. And what happens if the armies still don’t surrender?”

“Then I suppose you have to kill them,” the Commander sighed. “But I highly doubt that would happen. Men can only fight so long and lose so much before they just stop. If their government is dead, their land captured, what more are they fighting for? How will they rationalize continuing the fight?”

“True,” Elizabeth said, rapping her fingers on the table, glancing up absentmindedly. “We could potentially exploit that. This isn’t even counting the citizens under martial law. With some well-placed propaganda, we can turn them into ultimately welcoming us.”

“I agree with the goal,” Weekes said, inclining his head in a sign of respect. “But it will take some of our best. The Lancers can do it, but it will cost lives, even if we wait for them to be genetically modified.”

“There is no need to worry,” Patricia interrupted, raising a hand and a smile on her face. “You don’t need an army everywhere. Point me towards any government and I will handle the rest. Give us information and we can send an XCOM team to wipe them out. We are willing to commit to this, and you don’t need armies of hundreds, or even dozens. Just one psion is enough for any Human army.”

“That’s…reassuring,” Saudia said after a few seconds. The Commander noted that all of the ADVENT personnel had become much stiffer and deliberately trying not to be affected by remembering that Patricia could read their minds. “I think that we are of one mind on this. We end this war quickly and effectively.”

“I will need to bring over several thousand Peacekeepers at least,” Stein told Saudia. “It’s going to be a nightmare to keep the population under control, especially in the rural cities.”

“Noted,” Saudia nodded, then looked over to Laura. “Commander Christiaens?”

“Necessary, I suppose,” she sighed. “In which case we need to decide on what we’re doing with India and Kazakhstan, right now India wants Pakistan minimum in addition to protection from China, they might ask for Afghanistan as well. Kazakhstan wants to keep Uzbekistan out of the fighting and for us to take them as a member state.”

“I’ll have Hassan handle it,” Saudia said. “He’ll know how much we can push them. But it’s superfluous anyway. Them joining ADVENT is worth quite a lot. With France now with us, it’s only a matter of time before the EU follows suit. And speaking of which…”

She stopped, and looked over at him, her lips in a thin pressed line. “Legislation has been introduced to annex Canada. I will be authorizing it and am in the process of acquiring the needed authorizations.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “He still wouldn’t listen to reason?”

Saudia’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m afraid not. He… _dislikes_ me. He had some choice words at the end. Enough to convince me that he’s no longer someone who can have any sort of influence in this world. Preparations are being made to deal with the fallout.”

Good riddance. While he would have preferred Saudia refrain from annexing a rather peaceful country, the Prime Minister had brought it down upon himself quite frankly. She’d given him multiple chances and he’d spat on each one, which was intolerable in this day and age. Still, the Commander was somewhat impressed he’d actually had the gall to stand up to who was likely the most powerful woman in the world.

A shame. But Canada would be a massive boost to the war effort, India as well.

China would be furious.

He smiled at the thought.

“There is also something else I would like to make you aware of,” the Commander said after a few seconds. “I have drafted an amendment to the Advent Directive regarding the usage of psionics.”

All of them visibly reacted. Weekes and Laura stiffened in surprise, Stein raised an eyebrow and Saudia blinked rapidly. Elizabeth scratched her head in confusion. “Really?” Saudia finally said. “I didn’t expect it-“

“Neither did I,” he interrupted. “And this isn’t without conditions. As of this point we are working on something we are calling the Manchurian Project. In essence it is a form of mental conditioning that would allow the shutdown of a rogue or dangerous psion. This is something that will be applied to all psions, XCOM and ADVENT, when it is complete. And we will hold the code words for your psions but you will not have the same for ours. This is non-negotiable.”

“Guess you need some kind of power over us,” Elizabeth muttered. “But it’s a lot better than nothing, I’ll admit.”

“A question,” Stein said slowly. “How restrictive is this mental conditioning?”

“The goal is for normal functionality,” the Commander explained. “You should not be even able to tell if someone is under it, unless they act in a way they are specifically not programmed to do, or someone uses their code word.”

“Thank you,” she mused. “I approve. Psions cannot be running around without checks. The risk is too high and I’m glad you can see that.”

“You said it was being worked on,” Weekes recalled. “I suppose you will want some other form of insurance in the meantime?”

“Correct,” the Commander nodded. “Having explosive micro-chips inserted into their heads and providing us with the codes will be an acceptable alternative for now. Although the potential psions must be informed of this beforehand.” The Commander gestured to the side. “In addition, we will provide you will all our current research on Psionics and if requested, training from some of our own.”

He paused, and lowered his voice. “I don’t make this decision lightly. But I don’t believe you will abuse it, and frankly, I don’t think we have much of a choice. Our ability for psionics is one of our few advantages over the aliens. The more who can be awakened, the better. How you go about doing this is up to you.”

“It is appreciated,” Saudia finally said. “Unless there are objections, we will accept with the conditions.”

He nodded towards Jackson. “Send it over, Central.” He turned back to the holotable. “In the meantime, I think we need to retaliate. We need a victory or to at least blunt the alien attacks. In short, we need to hit where they’re vulnerable.”

“That I agree with,” Weekes stated. “They’ve held that town in Japan for too long. It’s time we destroyed it. The same with America. We need to reestablish supply lines with Portland before we’re forced to pull out. I suppose you could assist us in this?”

“With pleasure,” Patricia nodded. “And we’ve drafted some potential tactics we can used against the Battlemaster. They might not work all the time, but we might be able to catch him off guard.”

Zhang’s eyebrows scrunched together. “You said ‘destroy’ the town in Japan. How? I believe it is surrounded by an energy shield and point-laser defense systems. The only way to take it is to march an army there, and a lot of people will die.”

Weekes pressed several buttons and a prototype unit suddenly came up. This was one of the most heavily armored soldiers that he’d seen. The colors were orange and black, and it held some kind of flamethrower in his hands, with an armored tank strapped to his back. “Dr. Mercado has been attempting to develop a suitable counter to close-range alien units. This is the result of the “Purifier” Project. Quite possibly the most dangerous unit in the entire military. While I’m sure Dr. Mercado would like to refine the final iteration a bit longer, I think the circumstances warrant an acceleration of his timeline. I have seen the unit in action and it will suffice.”

“Really?” The Commander said, trying not to sound too skeptical. “It might be useful in certain situations.”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand,” Weekes said with a smile. “Have you ever heard of chlorine trifluoride?”

“A pool chemical?” Jackson guessed lightly.

Weekes chuckled. “Not quite. But it’s possibly the most dangerous and flammable chemical in the world. It was so dangerous even the _Nazis_ stopped working on it because of how bad the effects were. This chemical can burn through nearly anything, concrete, dirt, metal, _aliens_. Water only makes it worse. In short, a squad of these soldiers is enough to put some fear into the aliens.”

“Write that down,” he told Jackson, mildly surprised Vahlen had never informed him of the existence of such a chemical. “I stand corrected then. With the correct protection…yes, I think we can work with this very well.”

“And I will also have my agents in Australia perform some liberations of their own,” Zhang interjected. “One of my agents has a contact that is providing essential information. Enough for Harper’s resistance forces to launch an attack. If we coordinate several strikes at once…”

“The aliens will be briefly stunned,” Laura finished. “They’ll be surprised if nothing else.”

“Then I think it’s decided,” the Commander said, looking around. “With that in mind, I see no point in waiting any further. We have drafted some plans of attack, and this should be done in coordination with ADVENT. Should we begin?”

“I think that’s a rhetorical question, Commander,” Laura said with some amusement. “I think we’re all in favor of some retribution. Let’s begin.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 7: ADVENT Peacekeeper Division

Subsection 7.2: Structure

 **Overview:** Below are the varying ranks and positions within the following departments. Please note that sections specifically covering a division will only highlight relevant positions exclusive to that division. Generic and standardized breakdowns are in the previous subsection.

ADVENT Peacekeeper Command: Holds senior staff for all ADVENT Peacekeeper departments and is the central body for decisions that affect the entire Peacekeeper Division and even ADVENT as a whole. The following positions are as follows:

  * Chief of Peacekeeper Operations
  * Riot Control Commander
  * Chief State Officer
  * SSR Orchestrator



ADVENT Peacekeeper Riot Control and Pacification: Has responsibility over riot suppression and pacification against hostile civilian populations or violent civil unrest and the ranks are as follows by seniority:

  * Regional Commander
  * Riot Control Officer
  * Riot Control Pacifier



ADVENT Peacekeeper State Officers: Has responsibility over enforcing the laws of ADVENT on a day to day basis and performing arrests, investigations, and protection in service of ADVENT citizens. The ranks are as follows by seniority:

  * National Chief
  * Regional Chief
  * Department Chief
  * State Officer



ADVENT Peacekeeper State Special Response (SSR): Is responsible for performing special operations in service of protecting ADVENT. Terrorism, organized crime and arrests of high-profile criminals are handled by the SSR. Ranks are as follows by seniority:

  * SSR Watcher
  * SSR Assassin
  * SSR Saboteur
  * SSR Executor
  * SSR Operative



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, War of the Chosen in certainly fun. If I had to guess, I'm probably a little more than halfway through my campaign (Avenger maxed out, beginning plasma weapons/warden armor, killed one Chosen, just did the Blacksite, etc). Although I have a tendency to delay major story missions until I'm sufficiently powered, so I may be further along. Given me plenty of story ideas, some you no doubt noticed here. Although as a general rule, my adaptions are probably going to be a lot more dangerous. One of my Purifiers would kill any XCOM squad if they were idotic enough to actually let it fire at them.
> 
> Anyway, in some brief behind-the-scenes news, I've reorganized how my beta reading is done. I'd previously had it where one person did the main story , the other XCOM Files (Johnclaw Dragonhelm and BloodspltBOOM respectively), but since both were making corrections, I figured everyone working on the same page was best. I also added another beta reader (Thuzan117) for a total of three. So I think the net result should end up being chapters that are much better than otherwise, this one alone had several spots revised thanks to their feedback.
> 
> Next chapter might be a while, all depends on how soon I finish the campaign. Then I've got XCOM Files to do as well, ha. Thanks as always for the feedback and reading. And go get the expansion if you can, it's definitely worth it.


	16. The Final Crusade

 

_Switzerland, ADVENT Command_

The group consisted of many of the people who had been at the initial private meeting between ADVENT and XCOM, but now they were joined by the various Marshals, Admirals, and Commanders that made up the ADVENT military. The Commander and Commander Christiaens were at the forefront of the semi-large briefing room, facing a small crowd that stood at attention with a holographic projector displaying a blue, glowing map of the Middle East before them.

To his right and Laura’s left stood Patricia and Weekes respectively. The plan had been conceptualized by all of them, and the Commander was confident it would hold up, especially since they had so many tools at their disposal.

But the Middle East was only one part of the offensive, and ironically probably the least dangerous.

The strikes against the aliens held far more danger.

“Welcome and thank you all for arriving on time,” Laura began, stepping forward. “The operation that will be undertaken in the next twenty-four hours will likely be one of the most important, and dangerous, in human history. Myself and Chief Weekes have been closely working with XCOM during this time, as this is one point where we cannot afford mistakes.”

The Commander nodded, and also stepped forward. “The operation we have designated as ‘Deus Vult’ will have two primary objectives, and multiple angles of attack within each objective. The first objective, is the complete subjugation and capture of the Arab nations that stand against ADVENT, and by extension, our survival.”

He began pointing at the holomap. “The targets will be Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, the United Arab Emirates, Yemen, Oman, and Pakistan.” He paused, and noted impressively that there wasn’t any background chatter as he revealed their goal. Given how high-ranking many of these men and women were, they had likely expected something similar.

“Yemen and Oman will likely be final cleanup operations,” Laura continued, nodding to one of the women in the room. “Thanks to the Israeli ADVENT Legion, we control the centers of power and just have to deal with the final military remnants. The other good news is that Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan have been convinced to stand down and assimilate as part of ADVENT.”

“That still leaves us with a few nations to capture,” the Commander warned. “Pakistan, as a nuclear power, is the largest threat to ADVENT. India has been working with us in preparation for our attack. It will have to be handled delicately, and since we know that Pakistan is heavily monitoring the situation thanks to the Intelligence Bureau and ADVENT Intelligence, there is a chance that they will recognize this as a final offensive and feel they are out of options.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “As a result, Pakistan and their nuclear arsenal must be neutralized as soon as possible. To do that, both the Prime Minister and entire Pakistani Defense Council will need to be taken out in short order, as either one has the capability to order the launch of nuclear missiles.” He paused. “In theory, disrupting the chain of command should be enough to prevent nuclear launches due to supposedly strict protocols. In practice, if either the Prime Minister or Defense Council feel they are at risk of falling, protocols will mean nothing.” He nodded towards a man raising a hand. “Yes?”

“How will this be accomplished without either of them acting then?” The officer asked. “Multiple strike teams? That would still give them time to react.”

“Yes, it will,” the Commander agreed. “Fortunately, we don’t have to rely on luck.” He waved Patricia forward, who was clad in her dark red Aegis armor, wearing her helmet for good measure.

“Patricia Trask, Head of the XCOM Psionic Division,” she introduced herself. “This is where I come in.” She pointed to the map. “I will be deployed first to Islamabad, where the Prime Minister is currently residing. The Pakistani military does not have any defense against psionics, so they will pose little threat to me. I will capture the Prime Minister, extract the locations and names related to the nuclear arsenal from his mind, and secure their nuclear football, from there we can determine the locations of all nuclear stockpiles.”

She pointed to a different part of the map. “With the locations established, multiple Lancer and Shieldbearer teams will prepare to take out the stockpiles, and I will deploy to Rawalpindi, where the Pakistani military command is. I will then extract as much information as is needed from the command staff, then terminate the entire base.”

“Once Patricia provides us with the relevant codes, we will then use the protocols to order their nuclear submarine, or submarines, to surface,” Laura continued. “And with the ones in command with the authorization to launch the missiles dead, the strikes against the nuclear stockpiles will begin and the Russian ADVENT Legion will march on the prominent cities in Pakistan and Afghanistan.”

“The neutralization of the Pakistani nuclear threat will be the signal to begin the rest of the operation,” the Commander said, motioning to Saudi Arabia. “I will lead the attack on Riyadh, along with one of the Israeli ADVENT Garrisons, while the rest of the Legion secures other points of interest in Saudi Arabia.”

“In the meantime, the majority of the American Legion deployed here will take Turkmenistan,” Laura said. “We will also receive some assistance from Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan in accomplishing this.”

“It should be made clear what our objectives are,” Weekes stated, speaking for the first time. “Let there be no ambiguity: The time for surrender has long past. This is about the complete decimation of the ones opposed to ADVENT. Our goal is to completely annihilate the opposing militaries by any means necessary. We no longer negotiate with enemies of the State. We are not capturing any soldiers, we are _killing_ them. The only surrender that will accepted is soldiers who throw down their arms. Any others you are ordered to execute on sight, this goes for anyone foolish enough to attack you.”

“We will not risk any portion of the leadership of the Middle East surviving,” the Commander nodded. “The governments and leadership are not to be captured, nor is any surrender to be accepted. Those who are tasked with executing the governments will do nothing less. There will be no trial or capture. They are guilty according to the Advent Directive and mercy has long since been removed from consideration.”

Laura gave a slight frown, and glanced briefly at the Commander. “While harsh, that is correct. The only exceptions will be children, who are to be brought into custody. All other officials who are connected to the Pakistani, Afghanistan and Turkmenistan governments, and the Saudi Royal family are to be executed on sight. This doubly applies for the entire military leadership. Is that understood?”

“ _Yes, Commander!”_ All of them shouted instantly.

The corners of the Commander’s lips twitched. It was somewhat amusing how the circle came to a close here. He’d been the one to first weaken these corrupt and problematic nations, and now he was going to finish the job. “Good. That is the first objective of this operation. The second is arguably more important, and far more dangerous: An initial retaliation against the aliens.”

The holomap flashed and it was replaced with an image of the state of Oregon. “There will be three major components to this operation,” he continued. “This first is the reestablishing of supply lines for Portland. The Sargon commanding the alien forces there has surrounded the city and cut off access. The American ADVENT Legion will lead the attack with XCOM support. With Portland secure, we have at least a better chance of repelling the alien advance.”

The holomap flashed to Australia. “XCOM and ADVENT Intelligence are coordinating in Australia to act on information where the aliens have lessened security around Mackay, a city on the coast. Both my agent on the ground and the current leader of the Resistance believe it’s primed for an unexpected strike to get the civilian population free. Transports to evacuate them have been sent to Resistance areas of control, and they are preparing to actually move on the city and evacuate the civilians in an efficient manner.”

“The final strike will be against the lone alien stronghold of Nakashibetsu,” Laura finished. “With XCOM support, we believe that the aliens won’t be able to maintain control of the city and it will give us undisputed, if temporary, control over the entirety of Japan. To accomplish this we will be deploying the new Purifier teams, and our intent is to reduce their fortifications and army to nothing.”

“You’ve been appraised of their volatility,” Weekes reminded them. “But I need to repeat, keep _all_ your soldiers well away from the fire once it starts. The only ones who should be near the units are the XCOM psions protecting them.”

“MDU’s will also be deployed in all appropriate locations,” Laura updated. “Chief of Engineering Feng has cleared them for deployment, and they will provide a much-needed versatility to our forces across the globe.”

“Are there questions?” The Commander asked, looking around.

“What happens if we encounter the Battlemaster?” One officer asked, his brow furrowed in concern. “Portland is near his territory, so to speak.”

The Commander figured it was a fair question. “We have a contingency in that event. However, in the event that any team encounters the Battlemaster or any other Ethereal, you are to pull back and XCOM will assume control of the operation.”

He looked around once more. “Any more questions?”

No one said anything. “In that case, each of you will break into the respective teams for the various assaults. Kilian, Emanuel, Betos, come with me to go over the assault on Saudi Arabia in more detail.”

“The rest of you stay in place while I give each team specific instructions,” Laura continued as the three commanding officers broke off to follow the Commander. “Good luck to everyone, but now it rests on you.”

***

_Australian Resistance Command, Northern Territory_

To the best of her knowledge, this was the first time Abby could remember Harper’s Resistance team actually all meeting in the same place. She’d seen each of them around occasionally, but not in the same place. Now all of them were here, as well as Hari May, the other XCOM Intelligence agent, the Chronicler (still called Lucas by everyone else) and two ADVENT Intelligence agents, Joseph Falka and Illena Desora.

She’d never met any of them before, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled that yet _another_ former EXALT agent was now here.

All of them were standing around the wooden table, a map of Australia laid out on it, where the target of interest was marked in red sharpie and a pin stuck in the center for good measure. “Mackay is our target,” Harper began. “Thanks to a source of Abby’s, we have been able to confirm that the aliens have left themselves vulnerable in the city. Abby?”

 _You’d better be right._ She thought towards the Chronicler, given that he was her ‘source’. As helpful as he was being right now, she still didn’t entirely trust him, nor was she comfortable with keeping him a secret from Zhang.

_Don’t worry, agent, I know I am._

She shivered.

He still did that, and she hated it every time.

“I’ve been able to confirm myself, and Agent May can back me up,” Abby began. “For whatever reason, the aliens have been moving around the majority of their force, with at least some being sent to the larger cities like Sydney and others to the south.”

“It’s not inconceivable that they are also moving some to help secure the other Oceania states,” May added, tapping the map. “They’ve been having trouble with the guerilla forces there as well. We’ve been doing more reconnaissance work, and thus our impact has been minimal, so naturally, the aliens want to move resources to where they’re needed.”

“In the end, the reasons don’t matter,” Abby continued, refocusing on the map. “There are at least one hundred aliens, which are mostly standard Mutons, and a small portion of Runianarch soldiers, likely Vitakarian. Cobrarian if we’re unlucky, but we didn’t see any when we were there.”

“The more accurate estimates are between one-twenty-five and one-fifty,” May added, glancing around the table. “With the majority being Mutons, I think that we have more than enough to defeat them.”

“With the weapons agents Falka and Desora brought us, I agree,” Ahri Colonan, one of Harper’s best guerilla commandos, nodded. “We have more than ten times that number.”

“But our soldiers are not expendable,” Harper pointed out. “From what I’ve seen, the aliens can replenish their numbers easily. We can’t. We still have to be smart about this, but now that we’re getting actual ADVENT support, I agree that it’s definitely feasible now.”

“Always a pleasure,” Joseph noted, inclining his head with a smile. “While drawing attention to the Resistance here is dangerous, the time has come to hit them where it hurts. But remember the goal, which is _not_ to take the city.”

“Right,” Harper nodded. “Evacuate the civilians. Your people will be at the designated point.”

“Absolutely,” Joseph assured him. “This is part of one of the largest military operations ever undertaken. It will be done. We just have to kill the aliens first.”

“That can be easily arranged,” Harper said with a smile. “The soldiers are eager to attack, and after we take one city, we’ll take the next until only the major ones are left.”

“Don’t go in arrogant,” Abby cautioned, frowning. “We know they have at least four Andromedons, and possibly higher-ranking aliens that we haven’t seen. Not to mention there may be Zararch agents seeded with the civilians. I wouldn’t put it past them to do that.”

“We’ll have to take that chance,” May shrugged. “We don’t have time to take a blood test of every civilian, and I doubt they’ll attack when surrounded by _armed_ humans.”

“The aliens, like us, prefer to use resources wisely,” the Chronicler spoke for the first time, sounding vaguely amused. “If I had to guess, they have far more important usage of such Zararch agents than to place them in random towns.”

Abby narrowed her eyes.

Assuming he was insinuating what she thought, that was one concern averted.

“What happens if they begin taking hostages?” Ahri asked. “They _will_ call for help, and we can’t afford delays.”

There was silence for a few moments. Abby and May exchanged a look, before she looked back to Harper. “That’s why we have snipers. We can’t exactly stop, because those people will be dead anyway. Hostages shouldn’t affect the plan whatsoever.”

Ahri looked at her, his face inscrutable, but she was fairly certain he disapproved. “You might be willing to do that, agent, but I don’t think the rest of the soldiers will be as willing.”

“That, sir, is why we are here,” Joseph interrupted smoothly. “We understand that some people have issues making decisions like that. Should a situation arise, one of us will take care of it. We’re trained for situations like these, and we will do everything we can to keep the civilians safe…” he shook his head. “That being said, we will not compromise the liberation of one hundred civilians for the sake of ten.”

Abby still despised what this was being reduced to, but he was right. She _hated_ that he was right. “This conflict is one of resources and pawns. Like it or not, that’s what it is. The more civilians we rescue, the weaker the alien hold here is. The more that live, the higher morale is. The more held in cities, the lower the morale. The people we’re trying to free are _people,_ yes, but they are also a crucial resource in this war. And like any resource, sometimes they must be used to achieve a greater result.”

 _Well said,_ the Chronicler’s voice in her mind said, very approvingly she noted.

Joseph raised an eyebrow in surprise. “A very practical outlook, Agent Gertrude. And one all of us in this room should understand.”

Harper’s lips were set in a grim line as he stared at her unblinkingly. “I won’t ever reduce the people I swore to protect as mere resources…but I don’t disagree to an extent. Hostages can’t stop this operation. Do what you must if the need arises…but I won’t order my soldiers to do it.”

“You won’t have to,” Joseph promised, tapping the sniper rifle attached to his back. “Like I said, _that_ is our job.”

“Then I’ll tell my soldiers to prepare to move out,” Harper sighed. “Good work, all of you. And good luck in liberating the city. If we win today, this will send a message to the aliens they won’t forget anytime soon.”

Assuming everything went according to plan.

The Chronicler seemed oddly relaxed though, and she wondered exactly what part he planned to play in the conflict. He hadn’t said anything to her, but she knew he had a plan.

He _always_ seemed to have some kind of angle, and since he’d given her this information, she was expecting he was getting something out of it.

_I believe I am getting another city, Agent Gertrude; assisting you in taking it is the least I can do._

_Get out of my head,_ she growled in her mind, knowing he probably wouldn’t.

Well, at least that confirmed he was going to help.

Even with ADVENT support, the best in the Resistance, and XCOM and ADVENT agents working together, she believed they’d need all the help they could get.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

Sierra had never seen everyone quite as active as now. This was being called the biggest operation ever undertaken by XCOM, and knowing the full extent of what was going to happen, she could believe it.

She hated that she felt _conflicted_ of all things.

On one hand, she was going to help hit the aliens in America and free Portland from the supply lock the aliens had imposed on them. She was rather feeling up for killing a few dozen aliens. That was a cause she could fight for and feel like she was doing the right thing.

The only issue she had right now was that XCOM was getting involved in the Middle East war, and from the sounds of things, going to _end_ it.

That bothered her.

Not that the war shouldn’t end…but she firmly believed that XCOM should _not_ be interfering in it. It set the wrong precedent. This was ADVENT’s problem, and they should be the ones that fix it. Sure, the Commander probably had some justification, and it was admittedly probably a good one, but now that XCOM was getting involved, what was to stop XCOM now intervening whenever they perceived a country as making the ‘wrong’ decision?

The Commander was being irresponsible here, even though he’d never admit it. He _had_ to know what sort of message this was going to send, and that he’d clearly decided to do it anyway indicated that he either didn’t care, or didn’t understand.

And she _knew_ the Commander wasn’t an idiot.

Not that many people seemed to care one way or the other. The only ones who seemed even vaguely affected were the ones who had originally come from the Middle East like Jamali and Fakhr, who were wisely staying quiet. At least the Commander was smart enough to send them to fight the aliens and not against their home region.

“You seem less excited than I thought you’d be,” Jona Mattis commented as she walked up. “I agree, for what it’s worth.”

Sierra wasn’t even bothered by the fact that Jona had apparently read her mind, or at least guessed correctly. At this point having telepaths around was just normal. “Not that I’m complaining about shooting aliens, but really, do we need to curb stomp the Middle East as well? It’d be one thing if it was close, but from what I’ve heard ADVENT is just laughing off bullets. This is just overkill, pardon the language.”

“Hmm, I understand,” Jona nodded, as they began walking with the other soldiers to the Hangar. “Although I think that the longer the Middle East is at war, the more people die. The sooner it’s ended the better, I think.”

“Oh, please, this isn’t about the people,” Sierra scowled at the woman’s naivety. “I’ve seen enough of the Commander to know that he doesn’t think like that _at all_. This is purely about power and resources. More power ADVENT has, the less people exist to question him. The more resources ADVENT has, the better the invasion can be stopped. If you think that he cares about people, you clearly didn’t see him put a damn Illuminati leader in charge of the world.” She paused. “No offense.”

Jona fortunately seemed to find that funny. “True, true, but while I can’t speak for the Commander, that is what _I_ think. So regardless of his reasons, I think it’s the right move.”

“Yeah, sure, I just don’t have the greatest opinion of ADVENT right now, so forgive me for not thinking they have the best interests of the people in mind,” Sierra muttered, as they rounded a corner. She briefly checked her pulse rifle out of habit. “And before you ask why, I’m American. Tell you what, if you really want I’ll rant to you about it later.”

“I don’t think you’ll have many disagreements with me,” Jona said, flipping her helmet in her hands and placing it on her head. “I don’t exactly think ADVENT is quite as flawless as it thinks it is.”

“You can say that again,” Sierra snorted, mimicking her and placing her own helmet on. “Seriously, the way some of those people speak they think they’re the second coming of Christ, coming to lift the stupid people into a new enlightened age. Pretentious twats. Stein in particular is the worst.”

She could imagine Jona’s eyebrow raising when she spoke. “You really want to punch her in, ah, ‘her smug little face’?”

“Very much so,” Sierra chuckled as they reached the Hangar. “But for today, I’ll settle for punching some aliens. Or better yet, shooting them from a distance.”

“I’ll stick to the back,” Jona added. “Telepathy doesn’t require getting in close.”

“Lucky you,” Sierra said. “But leave some for me.”

“No promises.”

In somewhat clearer spirits, Sierra and the rest of the XCOM soldiers began boarding the skyrangers, ready to exact retribution on the aliens who now believed their army couldn’t be stopped. Something all of them were looking forward to clearly proving wrong.

***

_Japan, Nakashibetsu_

“They’re gearing up for a big assault,” Duri noted as a squad of four of the new flame units, or “Purifiers” as they were being referred to, walk by. “It’s only a matter of time now.”

The Purifiers didn’t even look like they were operated by Humans. The armor was much, _much_ bulkier than even the Shieldbearer armor he’d seen, and it looked like every single component had been made out of pure alien alloys. There was a very clear difference in quality. ADVENT armor was good, but he knew it was a mixture of alloys and regular Earth metals, which sometimes gave the armor a plasticy look of all things, even if that clearly wasn’t the case.

Pure alien alloys had none of that. It reflected light like hardened metal. Purifiers _looked_ more armored, and the armor alone was enough to make it stand at least six inches higher than he was in full armor. It even looked like each gauntlet was fully armored, which _had_ to have been extremely resource intensive, even if it was clearly well-designed.

The helmet looked to have been inspired by the Shieldbearer, but even that was taken to a hardened extreme with each of the angles and shapes being even sharper than before. The armor was colored a dull orange with portions of the helmet and armor being painted black. The only symbol or identifying mark was a bright white word on both shoulders, the upper right chest and twice on the tanks attached to the back.

**CIF3**

The tanks themselves were octagonal tubes, two extremely close together and made out of the same metal as the rest of the suit. They extended the entire length of the back, and even up to nearly half the head itself. Duri assumed it contained the flammable liquid for the flamethrowers they held in their hands.

The flamethrowers themselves were sleek, symmetrical, and nearly as long as a sniper rifle. The barrel progressively got narrower towards the end, and he noticed there was a smaller tube hovering just below the main barrel. A way to add an additional accelerant? A starter flame? He didn’t know enough about flamethrowers to figure it out.

But he noticed that they moved so. Very. Slow. It was somewhat ridiculous, and reminded him of robots, except that he’d _seen_ robots now and they could move at a reasonable speed. These Purifiers just lumbered along, never speeding up. If he didn’t know better, he’d say they were moving deliberately slowly because they could explode at any moment.

If only. No, if something really was _that_ dangerous it was unlikely to actually be used. A shame, it could actually be useful against the aliens then. From what he could tell…he couldn’t see a point to the Purifiers. He supposed it would be nice if they sent Chryssalids or Berserkers, but in general they just seemed too situational to justify the obvious cost that was being spent on them.

And of course ADVENT was low-key hyping them up, with warnings like _“Do not ever approach Purifiers in combat”_ and _“Do not attempt to enter areas being attacked by Purifiers”._ Someone in ADVENT really feared fire. Not that Duri minded. He would be very sure to steer far away from them if they started working. While the armor would protect him, he figured it was best not to risk it.

“They remind me of machines,” Johan noted, scratching his beard. “Kinda neat, if a little creepy.”

“What a waste of resources,” Cara snorted derisively. “Yes, ADVENT decided we needed a _flame unit_ of all fucking things. How the hell are these guys going to get close enough to cause any damage? Do they have sniper rifle flamethrowers?”

They all chuckled. “Berserkers, maybe?” Kang asked with a shrug. “Or other close range units? I’m just guessing, I feel the usefulness is limited as well.”

“Hold on?” Beatriz narrowed her eyes and pushed herself up from the wall as she watched the Purifier team walk away. “What was that on their armor?”

“Sif-Three?” Duri answered. “Probably a unit number of some kind.”

“Was it Sif-Three or CIF3? Beatriz demanded suddenly.

“It was spelled CIF3,” Duri shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

Beatriz whistled. “What the actual hell, ADVENT? What are you thinking?”

Duri cocked his head, and the rest of them turned to her. “That mean something?” Cara asked.

“I only heard about it a while ago,” Beatriz said slowly. “But if it’s the same thing, no wonder those guys walk around like they’re afraid of exploding. They just might.”

Kang turned directly to her. “Explain?”

Beatriz took a breath. “The short answer is, if I remember correctly, CIF3 stands for Chlorine Trifluoride, and it is possibly the most dangerous chemical on the planet. That stuff can burn through concrete, and then the dirt _under_ the concrete, and still keep burning. There are only like, three, ways to safely contain it, if that.”

“Oh,” Cara said in a small voice. “Well, hopefully they have a water team-“

 _“Noo,”_ Beatriz interrupted. “Water causes it to _explode_. You _can’t_ put out a CIF3 fire. You can only wait for it to die naturally. The fucking _Nazis_ thought it was too dangerous to use and when the Nazis think that…maybe, just _maybe_ , it might not be a good idea to try it.”

“I stand corrected,” Kang said appreciatively. “Well, maybe these Purifiers will actually be useful then.”

“If they really are using CIF3, then I don’t think ADVENT wants to take the city,” Beatriz said slowly. “I think they want to destroy it. I don’t think even _aliens_ would be able to survive it. If even _some_ of it gets on you, you’re dead and suicide by water might actually be a mercy.”

“I guess we should pay attention to the warning that we should keep our distance from them,” Duri said. “I wish ADVENT would have actually _given_ us this explanation.”

“Keep people from panicking, probably,” Beatriz guessed. “I mean, if just one of those Purifiers exploded, we’re pretty much screwed. It’s going to make them priority targets, but if they actually get close enough to the aliens, _they_ will be the ones who are screwed. I don’t know even if whatever magic armor the Battlemaster has could survive that.”

“The question is getting them close,” Duri said. “Even without knowing what they can do, I don’t think the aliens are going to like a bunch of heavily armored flame units coming across the no-man’s land.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say they have a plan,” Johan said slowly. “It explains why the units are so armored, and why they walk that way. There is no way ADVENT overlooked that particular flaw in the plan. Maybe Shieldbearer tech?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Duri answered, idly flipping his helmet in his hands. “If I were in charge, I’d do whatever was needed to make them as safe as possible.”

Beatriz chuckled. “There is no such thing as a ‘safe’ way to handle CIF3. There are only ways that have less risk.”

Well, the good news was that it seemed like the Purifiers might actually be useful.

But he was going to keep himself and his team as far away from them as possible. Death by fire was _not_ how he wanted to go.

***

_Islamabad, Pakistan_

_On edge, but not worried._

That was the general impression Patricia got from walking down the streets of Islamabad. There was very little urgency and fear. The people seemed to believe that only when they could easily see the enemy approaching, then that was cause to fear. Until then, they saw no reason to not go about their normal day.

She was dressed as inconspicuously as possible, in appropriate civilian clothing which consisted of tan pants, what felt like incredibly flimsy shoes, and a regular desert sweater over a light shirt. At the suggestion of Laura, she was also wearing an open-faced hijab and shawl, for no other purpose but to blend in. It was also entirely possible that the Pakistani government had acquired pictures of her and were telling people to watch for her.

Very unlikely, but possible.

Stifling as it was, it seemed to be working and she persisted towards the House of the Parliament of Pakistan. Not only was the Prime Minister working out of there most days recently, but it was the majority of the legislature in Pakistan. Should they be eliminated, the government would collapse completely, allowing ADVENT to only have to mop up.

She saw it up ahead now, a very blocky and white building to say the least. Not exactly creative architecture, but she believed she could tell where they were going. It was as if someone had taken the United States Capitol, and turned it into squares. There was one slightly taller square in the middle, and on each side were smaller squares with obvious levels.

What was very good was the _high_ military presence. Excellent.

Pakistani soldiers marched in formation around the building, guards were stationed at every checkpoint, and there were even more in front of every entrance. People were being ID’d and escorted out if they failed to have the correct authorization. Paranoid, but they were smart in fearing an attack. There were probably enough soldiers here to defend it for at least thirty minutes against ADVENT.

Which was far too long if they had nuclear weapons.

But speculation was pointless, as reality was going to set in for these people very shortly. By the time she was finished, everyone in that building would be dead or under her control.

Preferably the former. The mission was very clear.

_Extract the information from the Prime Minister, capture him until operation is complete, and execute the entirety of Parliament._

Easy enough.

Four guards had noticed her walking up, and moved to intercept her, visibly preparing to use their rifles. “اعرض عملك” One of them demanded harshly.

They stepped back in surprise when they saw her eyes flash a brief purple and tinted energy manifested around her body, but she took control of their weak minds before they could so much as speak. All that was needed a brief command: _Stop_.

Impressing that upon them, she took the opportunity to look into their minds, seeing what potential issues the rest might pose. Images, voices, memories and random thoughts all rushed over her in seconds, but she was experienced enough at this that she picked out and focused on the information she needed and stopped the rest with a mental gesture.

 _Layout_ , she commanded, and she was bombarded with images of them walking the building, the twists, turns and rooms all coming at her at a speed that would overwhelm a novice telepath, but she was able to construct a useful recreation in her mind, aside from a few black spots where these people had no access.

She would have to impress her will a little harder on the soldiers, as many of them didn’t have a firm grasp of English, even if they understood a few words. Not a problem. Forcing the meaning of her commands on them would take slightly more time, but she could work with it.

Let’s see…the Prime Minister.

A few mental commands for information about where Prime Minister Rafiq Sangrasi was and…yes…while there wasn’t an _exact_ location, he was definitely here, as the security around him was always noted by one of these guards. Good enough, and she could work with that.

She opened her eyes and looked at the men staring at her dully, their minds completely in her grip. “You will pay attention,” she said, the psionic undercurrent present in her voice, further driving her words and will into their minds. The spoken word was often more effective for getting her commands across, and she felt them immediately focus everything they had left on her. “In approximately four hours, you will execute every Parliament member in this building with no exceptions, as well as any who would protect them. You will also answer only to me, and ignore my activities unless called upon. Do you understand?”

All nodded. She returned the gesture and released them directly from her control. “Go about your duties.”

They wandered off, silent and mechanical as she proceeded deeper into the courtyard in front of the building and walked to a small patch of grass close to the building, knelt on the ground, placed her hands on her knees, closed her eyes and began her domination of the inhabitants of the building.

There were hundreds of people inside, with two very distinct mindsets from each other. One was heavily organized, conditioned and protective – soldiers and military personnel, she assumed. That was fine. The rest were largely more unique, some more busy or slow than others, but they lacked the strict uniformity found in soldiers.

So first she focused on them, on all the civilians that were here, all the ones who were doing their jobs.

_Everything is normal. Nothing to be concerned about. Go about your business._

She impressed these words on them until they dominated the thoughts of every civilian in the building, which was easier since many more of them understood English, and thus, the command registered. They might not know _why_ they were thinking these thoughts, or why they were so certain ‘everything was fine’, but they would believe it nonetheless.

Now, for the soldiers.

_Come._

She repeated that command to all those with the minds of soldiers, who suddenly felt compelled to abandon their posts and go to where she was, the exact location she planted in their minds, even as she tightened her grip on them. They did not understand what was happening to them, and she felt their brief terror before she smothered it and forced compliance.

It might have been an hour later, or perhaps only five minutes, but she eventually felt dozens of minds in close proximity to her own and opened her eyes, her purple-tinted vision showing a small army of soldiers in front of her. All of them stood as still as statues, their eyes sightless as they stood under her thrall.

The landscape was eerily quiet as they all stood waiting. “Now listen…” Patricia began, her voice distorted and low as psionic energy coursed through her, and she gave them the same instructions as she had given the first group of guards. The instant she was done, the spell of silence was broken and they all shuffled away, no conversation taking place.

“You. Stay,” She commanded one of the ranking officers who froze and turned to her. “Escort me to the Prime Minister.”

“Yes, sir,” he said dully. “Follow me.”

She followed the soldier as they finally entered the building, and ignored the civilians and legislators still scurrying around, oblivious to the entirety of their guard temporarily disappearing just as she’d hoped. The soldier escorted her into an elevator and pressed the top floor, and they waited patiently as it took them up.

They stepped out, and he escorted her through the ornate hallway with the red rugs until they arrived in front of double doors, trimmed in white and gold. No doubt where the Prime Minister was stationed. The guards she had affected here were back at their posts, and opened the door at her command.

“Dismissed,” she told them with a wave. “Return to your duties.”

They saluted and she walked into the office of Prime Minister Rafiq Sangrasi. It was well-furnished, with bookcases and expensive chairs and couches lining the room, and sitting at a desk, several aides around him was Rafiq himself. He had fairly light skin, no beard, and a graying head of black hair. Dressed in a simple traditional suit and tie, he didn’t look especially threatening or even intimidating.

He frowned as he noted her approach, and stiffened in outrage as she took the opportunity to liberate her hair of the hijab, seeing no more need of it. “And just _who_ are you?” He demanded, correctly assuming she only spoke English, and he was fortunately good enough that his accent was easily understandable.

“Patricia Trask,” she answered. “XCOM Psion.”

Fear spiked in him, and his mouth parted in terror. “Impossible! How could you-“

“Your man has your version of the nuclear football, yes?” She interrupted, glancing at the man standing in the corner, holding onto a silver briefcase handcuffed to his hand. “You. Come here.”

She easily took control of his mind directly and he walked over mechanically. “ADVENT has grown tired of this war,” Patricia continued, sitting down in a chair opposite him, not feeling it was time to sift through the Prime Minister’s memories quite yet. “Thus, both XCOM and ADVENT agree it is prudent to end it. The problem is that you are, unfortunately, a nuclear power, and we can’t risk you killing millions of people in some form of revenge.”

At a mental commend, the man placed the nuclear football on the table in front of Rafiq. “This is what I need from you, Prime Minister,” Patricia continued, letting the psionic energy alter her voice, and was rewarded by Rafiq squirming in his seat and pushing away. “Your nuclear codes, your procedures, and who knows about them. You will start by unlocking the nuclear football.” At that the man began unlocking it, and opened it to reveal a simple GUI which prompted a code from the Prime Minister.

Rafiq swallowed. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take control of your mind, like I’ve done with your soldiers here,” she answered coldly, crossing her legs as if relaxed. “Your cooperation is not needed, but I feel an obligation to give you a choice.”

“And then what?” He suddenly snarled. “You expect me to just surrender to your western empire that has sought our destruction for _decades_? You would see me humiliate myself? And for what? For my life?”

“No,” Patricia answered. “To preserve the sanctity of your mind. It is something so personal and intimate that it being violated without consent scars people for the rest of their lives, no matter how short they are. You fear that happening to you now, and it can be prevented. I haven’t entered your mind yet, but I would certainly have no issues doing it.” Patricia paused. “That is the only reason. Your government will die today, Prime Minister, as will you, the people in this building, and your military command. If it’s any consolation, the war in Pakistan will be over quickly-“

He spat in her face.

Patricia was still for a moment, then sighed. She could almost admire his defiance, and she did have to admit that there weren’t many upsides to her offer. Fair enough. “I suppose that is a no then,” she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “As you wish.”

She extended the opposite hand to him and directly broke into his mind. She felt no need to be gentle as she probed through his memories, ones not even relevant, but she wanted to experiment somewhat here. It wasn’t as if she was pressed for time now, and she wanted to see if she could keep him aware of what she was doing throughout the whole thing.

She parsed through his memories of childhood, early life, intimate moments, the deals he’d made, the secrets he knew, in mere minutes, keeping him independent enough so he knew just what she was seeing. It probably appeared to him like his life was literally flashing before his eyes, because it was, in a way.

She’d toyed with him enough. His mind was hers, and resistance was futile. “Enter the code,” she said, and he did so. It beeped in acceptance and the GUI switched to show a small map of Pakistan. The language was in Arabic, but she could see several spots she assumed were stockpiles or missiles. There was a colored radius in the Arabian Sea, which she assumed was the general area of the nuclear submarine.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling out her own tablet and entering the codes and information she’d extracted from his mind. She nodded and the aide closed the football and stepped back. “You have been helpful. Walk with me, Prime Minister, we have a plane to catch.”

Cognizant of how he was being controlled, but helpless to stop himself, the Prime Minister rose and followed her out, the nuclear football in her hand. She could feel both his terror and fury, obvious questions blazing in his head.

“Your people will be treated fine, provided they follow the law,” she said in the elevator, in response to a question in his mind. “We do not kill people without reason, only those that stand in the way of defending Earth. You should have surrendered long ago, and now you and everyone here will pay the price.”

The elevator opened and they stepped out. “And I wouldn’t be reliant on your military launching a retaliatory strike,” she warned him with a smile as they walked through the ornate halls. “They will not know you are even gone, not until it is too late. That is where I am heading next, and ADVENT and XCOM teams will be moving to the nuclear sites as soon as your military command has fallen. Your country will be given to India afterwards, if you were interested.”

A sense of loathing enveloped him, a hate so strong she had to chuckle. “I don’t blame you for being angry,” she said, with a glance back at him. “I would be too. But the thing is, I know when I am beaten, and your arrogance and stupidity is not something I can sympathize with. If you must hate anyone, hate yourself.”

They stepped outside right on time, the skyranger was waiting with the ramp open and she escorted the Prime Minister onto it, and then mentally commanded himself to strap in. Once they had lifted off, she allowed him to talk. “Do you have anything you want to say? No one can hear you now.”

“Enjoy your life on this Earth,” he spat. “But an evil like you will not last forever. You will be punished one day for your crimes. You will be judged, in this life or the next.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps, but I somehow doubt it. Your god didn’t intervene during the War on Terror, nor when your holy sites were destroyed, and not at all during this war. Your god is dead, Prime Minister. Or more likely, he never existed in the first place. There will be no afterlife for you, there will be no peace when you are executed. All you will have to look forward to is the void. You will die knowing you failed, and I want you to think of nothing else until that point.”

She added the psionic command to the end of her sentence. “Remember, Prime Minister, that you _failed_.”

That would be enough to start his mental deterioration, and she had more important things to worry about than the delusions of a dead man. The Pakistani military still needed to be neutralized, and she needed to prepare for that. Hmm…

The ordeal had drained her of quite a bit of energy, and while she was confident she could complete the mission, no sense in taking chances. She did recall the one trick she’d used when they’d attacked the Mercado Estate, and when she’d drained one of the soldiers of his energy. She glanced at the Prime Minister.

Perhaps he _would_ serve an additional purpose before his death.

It wasn’t as though he’d be contributing to anything else.

***

_Portland, Oregon_

“Deploy!” Creed shouted and the entire XCOM squad charged out into an already heated firefight on the south side of Portland outside the alien-controlled perimeter. Sierra knew there were three major objectives in securing Portland. The aliens had the city nearly surrounded, and had deployed some kind of artillery to cut off any sort of support from the side that was free. The north, south, and west of the city was secured by the aliens, and the Muton-majority forces had somehow constructed fortifications around the city.

Sierra looked around as the ADVENT soldiers charged forward with them. Matthew, Zara and, surprisingly, herself, were leading the charge forward at the foreboding alien structure that seemed to be too well-built for it to have only been constructed mere weeks ago. It was simple, with a single command tower two stories high in the center, and around it were black alloy fortifications and barricades. No walls, but multiple levels of cover until the center.

And they were filled to the brim with Mutons.

Plasma fire flew past them, hitting a good many soldiers who fell screaming as the plasma ate through their armor. “Establish a position!” Creed roared as they all took what cover they could in the woods, on a hill that was just above the Muton stronghold. The Officers around them repeated the orders, pulling back their soldiers while the Engineers rushed through.

“MDUs moving to assist!” One of the Officers shouted at Creed. “Set to reinforce you!”

“Acknowledged!” Creed called. “XCOM! Prepare to move forward! Jona, you ready?”

“Yes, sir!” The telepath answered with a firm nod.

“Sierra, Zara, with me up front!” Creed ordered and they immediately moved to comply as the green camo MDUs came stomping up. “Jim, stay back and take out the bigger targets. I bet we’re going to have Elites and Berserkers showing up soon.”

The lean sniper nodded. “My pleasure.”

“Jamali, Fakhr, Jona, stay behind us,” Creed instructed, hefting his pulse rifle. “We can take the fire. Matthew, you’re also up front.”

“Looking forward to it,” Matthew answered, sounding almost happy. “I’m ready to crush some xenos.”

“Overseer!” One of the Corporals, as designated by their dark green armor, yelled, running up, a few plasma bolts coming uncomfortably close to her head. “I’m coordinating the Grenadier attacks if you need it. I’m also working to establish sniper cover.”

“Have your gunners move up to suppress the worst of it,” Sierra found herself suggesting, as a cursory glance at the stronghold revealed the Mutons would overwhelm them with plasma otherwise. “The infantry aren’t going to do much good otherwise.”

The Corporal took it in stride. “A good suggestion, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Have your Grenadiers fire on my command,” Matthew suggested. “I can direct their initial volley much more accurately than they can.”

“Understood,” the Corporal nodded. “Good luck down there.”

“Same to you,” Creed said. “Move out!”

And they charged forward down the hill into the hail of plasma below. Jona fell to one knee and extended a hand towards the stronghold, her body sheathed in a light psionic aura. “ _Fall!”_

Sierra watched in fascination as a knot of Mutons just inexplicably fell over, although they moved to rise quickly, but it caused a lull in the constant plasma fire, and that was when the MDUs were sent forth. The bipedal robots wasted no time in opening fire. Lasers struck with pinpoint accuracy against the helmeted Mutons, with repeated volleys killing them instantly.

The remaining plasma fire was suddenly split between the new threat and XCOM bearing down on them. Sierra also fell to one knee and began sniping with her own pulse rifle, sustaining the beam at the head of one Muton. Creed did the same. Zara was pushing forward, using her own plasma rifle to wreak more havoc on their position.

A roar suddenly rang out, and Sierra’s lips hardened into a line. Berserkers.

“Launch!” Matthew commanded, raising a hand, psionic energy surrounding his body. Sierra heard the ADVENT Corporal shouting in the background, and she glanced up to see an entire section of the air above her shimmering, a telekinetic net created by Matthew to catch any projectiles.

“Rocket prepped and ready,” Fakhr updated, the launcher on her shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, Matthew.”

Six Berserkers suddenly came charging forward and Matthew threw his hand forward. “Now!” The four dozen or so grenades caught by Matthew, and Fakhr’s rocket were suddenly thrown with blinding speed and slammed into the armored Berserker horde with an explosion that lit up the battlefield.

Zara whooped and waved her hand forward, as she was close to the line. “Come on!”

The MDUs were right behind her, and causing almost as much damage as them. The Muton Grenadiers were rushing forward now, along with the soldier reinforcements, and this time they were specifically targeting the merciless machines. Two MDUs went down in a bright explosion, even as the majority of the XCOM team reached the first barricade.

“Silly Mutons,” Matthew chuckled, raising his hands toward the Grenadier line, and slowly squeezing. “Holding grenade launchers is not smart around me.” The entire line suddenly exploded in a bright flash of green as the plasma not only killed them, but vaporized the entire line instantly.

Sierra and Jamali leapt over the first barricade, and charged to the second one as more reinforcements came pouring out, this time with Elites supporting them. While not nearly as impressive as Patricia, Jona was doing her part in smaller ways, muttering words to herself in a trance. _Pain, fire, panic,_ and _terror_ were all regularly part of her vocabulary, and Sierra noted that there were Mutons that occasionally started roaring in pain, clutching their heads, or just falling over. Those were quickly picked off by one of the soldiers or the MDUs.

Two more Berserkers suddenly leapt out from behind the Elites, and charged some of the MDUs. One slammed into the machine, clearly damaging its laser weapon, which the machine then tossed aside and started using its metal fists to pummel the Berserker in the face. The alien was clearly surprised, but in a match between a Berserker and machine, the Berserker would eventually win…

…Were it not for the intervention of psionics. Matthew noticed the situation and raised his hands in the direction of the Berserker, and lifted it into the air. The MDU was merciless as it struck with pinpoint accuracy at the designated weak point, which was the helmet, tore _off_ the helmet, then dug its metal hands into the face as quickly and brutally as possible, turning it into unrecognizable pulp and gore, until it ripped what Sierra could only presume was part of its brain out.

And just like a machine, it immediately moved to the next target and began pummeling a surprised Muton soldier into the dirt. Sierra had to remember to send whoever had made them a congratulatory note. It was a beautiful combination of brutality and efficiency.

The Elites were backing up, and beginning to try and reform some semblance of a line with the remaining Muton soldiers. One suddenly turned and began attacking its brethren, and Fakhr took advantage of the distraction by loading another rocket and firing it into the crowd. The Elites staggered under the blast, but were torn between the mind-controlled alien, the MDUs who were circling in, and XCOM.

A cheer behind her caught her attention, and suddenly there were ADVENT soldiers by their side, firing at the remaining Mutons from positions of cover. Sierra grinned; she supposed that they’d done a good enough job to make it safe for ADVENT to actually come and reinforce their position. They were already doing good work.

Half a dozen Mutons were cut down from combined MDU and ADVENT fire, while Matthew was in the process of systematically crushing every limb, bone, and armor plates of a Muton Elite, his body language seeming to take great pleasure in making the alien suffer. A few other Mutons suddenly began freaking out, shooting the air, and stumbling around as if blind. Sierra and Jamali quickly put them down with sustained lasers.

The Muton force that was coming up from the west stronghold a few dozen feet away suddenly stopped, and the Elite suddenly began making motions for the force to retreat, and they quickly backed up, exposed and suddenly under a hail of gauss, laser and plasma from XCOM and ADVENT. An Elite corpse was thrown towards the small army, presumably by Matthew who stepped forward, psionic energy almost turning his form purple.

“You will not run!” He snarled, extending a hand, closing it into a grip and pulling. “Not today!”

The weapons of the front line of Mutons, including the Elites, were ripped from their hands and tossed onto the grass and dirt. Matthew’s other hand was flat to the ground, the air around it distorted and Sierra realized that there was clear distortion pulling down around the legs of the Muton force, meaning he’d effectively anchored them in place.

And so they killed each and every one of them. Not even Muton Elites could withstand the fury of hundreds of gauss rounds and lasers, especially with no means to fight back. Sierra killed Muton after Muton, melting their helmets and heads in short succession. The Elites and Berserkers died more slowly, suffering from dozens of small wounds that bled them dry, while the MDUs systematically targeted and hit the identified weak points.

Sierra now realized why EXALT had given Matthew the designation of a “Fury”. He was giving Patricia a run for her money. Quite honestly, the only thing that was giving her more satisfaction than slaughtering Mutons was watching that weaponless MDU walk around, and beat the odd Muton into a tan and yellow pulp.

Sierra grinned, and realized that the day was only getting started for them.

Vengeance felt good.

***

_Rawalpindi, Pakistan_

The teams were ready to move, all that was needed was the neutralization of Pakistani Military command. No longer in civilian attire, Patricia wore her Aegis armor as she marched toward the Joint Staff Headquarters, which was fortunately near the General Headquarters of the Pakistani Army. Subtlety was not a concern as she simply forced the few that got in her way to sleep with a mental command.

Even if most of them started running the opposite way when they saw her.

Her energy and vigor restored, she was ready to close this chapter of history, and wanted it done as quickly as possible. The military checkpoints were coming up, and she simply reached out towards the nearby minds and gave simple commands: _Kill each other_.

She paid no mind to the sound of gunshots ahead of her, and strode through the checkpoint as the guards focused on killing each other. A team of soldiers came running up to see what the commotion was, their own weapons drawn and she froze them in place with a single command. One of them was an officer, so she quickly extracted as much information from his mind as possible, before giving them all the same command as the guards.

And she got an idea.

Why waste time commanding individual groups of soldiers when she could affect _everyone_?

She cocked her head in thought. In theory it was possible, and certainly Ethereals were capable of such feats. Aegis had said Humans were likely capable of replicating at least some of an Ethereal’s power, so why not this? Compared to destroying a planet, it was trivial.

But she would need an additional burst of energy to make it happen. Luckily, there were many sources around. She grasped one of the soldiers by the neck and focused on him, while simultaneously raising a hand in the general direction of the base to direct her power. She closed her eyes, and let the psionic power envelop her.

Then she slowly and deliberately expanded her influence, which she imagined as an arc effect, spreading out and catching minds in its wake like a trap. She knew she wouldn’t be able to give complicated commands, but she didn’t need to. Not yet. Like a parasite or virus, she wormed her way into dozens, then hundreds of minds over the course of at least a half hour.

Every time she felt her concentration wavering, she simply drew some of the focus of the man she had by the throat. She repeated this at least six times, as her control and range grew and the sheer number of images, thoughts, and voices of these people had contorted into a blur and voiceless _noise_ in her head that threatened to drive her deaf and blind.

She figured there was no more she could do now. Perhaps the Command staff had been caught in it, perhaps not. Either way this would solve the problem one way or another. The time had come. She could expand no more, and gave her command.

_Kill._

She opened her eyes and let her mind contract into her own. She looked down at the man she had by the throat and noted that he had died, with some blood running out of his nose. Hm, so she actually could kill someone like that. Interesting. Not like it mattered as the man would have died today anyway.

At least it had been a useful death.

Machine gun fire sounded further into the base. Yelling and an explosion followed.

She smiled.

The walk through the Pakistani base was a fascinating demonstration of how just one command could reduce a man to little more than a raving beast. It turned out that _kill_ wasn’t really specific enough. Some used guns, others used their hands, shovels, boxes, it didn’t matter as long as they had a target. Some of the bodies were so mutilated they would never be identified.

Others had clearly died excruciating deaths, and yet even then they had persisted in trying to kill something. All their faces were contorted in fury, rage and pain. Some of them even tried to attack her in their bloodlust, yet she simply redirected them with a simple mental wave. By the time she reached the Headquarters proper, she realized that her influence hadn’t quite reached here. It had gotten close, but the soldiers here clearly retained their minds, and she could sense their distress at having to gun down their own men.

She put them out of their misery quickly. _Kill yourselves_ she sent, and they placed pistols to their heads and pulled the trigger, ending their lives quickly and painlessly. She secured the mind of someone within the base and forced them to open the door for her, then gave them the same command as the guards.

Though before that, she extracted the location of where the Military Command was situated. An underground bunker, that could only be accessed via elevator, and no one here had the codes to get into it. That might be a problem, had she not been able to access minds.

She didn’t need to be in the room to extract the information she seeked.

So she strode down to the elevator, locked of course, and after she had turned every resident in this building against each other, she knelt down and focused on the minds below her. Now she planned to be a little more delicate, since she had some detailed information to extract here. She pulled out her tablet, and accessed the first mind, which happened to be the Chief of Naval Staff.

He was quite a trove of useful information. After a dedicated half hour of stripping his mind of information, she had the means to contact not one, but _two_ nuclear subs, and the protocols for them to surface, as well as specific details about the missiles they were carrying. Their general location wasn’t a surprise, but that was irrelevant, and of course the codes required were extracted as well.

The next few minds were not quite as useful, simple military leaders. She now had confirmations on the nuclear stockpiles and missile sites, all of which matched the ones from the nuclear football. Additional codes and protocols were also extracted, including all-clear and stand-down ones, which she figured could be used.

The next mind wasn’t exactly _important_ per-se, but interesting nonetheless. He must have been a scientist or engineer, as he knew the complete technical capabilities of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal, including bomb sizes, impact radius, bomb yield, time needed to hit, and the maximum range. Yes, very useful, and would help them plan even more exact operations.

She also confirmed that they hadn’t sent any orders, for the simple reason that there clearly hadn’t been any ADVENT activity and this was being seen as an attempted military defection. They clearly wouldn’t risk their country being annihilated because of a military revolt. In the end, it had the same effect and they had ensured their destruction.

She sent all the information to ADVENT and the Commander. Her job was done, and all that was left was cutting off the head. But how to end them? She realized that she could use this time to experiment, maybe attempt to drive all of them to insanity or worse, since she hadn’t quite mastered that aspect yet.

In the end, she decided the simplest way was the best. Much as these people were the enemy, there was no reason to make them suffer unnecessarily. She could save that for the aliens.

_Kill yourselves._

With the final command sent, she stood and walked back onto the general area of the base and surveyed her handiwork. Hundreds of bodies were sprawled across the airfields and barracks, with the remnants fighting to tear each other apart. Blood ran and stained the concrete, and the corpses were already beginning to fester in the sun.

Above her the skyranger flew overhead, and she made her way to where it was landing, a trail of death and insanity behind her, but it was worth it. Pakistan would no longer pose a threat to ADVENT or XCOM.

With her final command, she had secured the future of the Middle East and ended the final threat they posed.

***

_Nakashibetsu, Japan_

Duri certainly felt somewhat apprehensive as the ADVENT Army marched forward to retake the one alien stronghold in Japan. There had been a few skirmishes, which had been driven back almost instantly as the Andromedons encountered stomped away when they saw the size of the army approaching.

And it was a massive army. Duri had heard that there were at least five thousand soldiers being committed to this mission, which was _not_ counting the MDUs that led the front of the line, nor the XCOM psions that also stood before them. Duri realized that as much as he’d heard about the fabled XCOM psions, he hadn’t actually seen one before.

They looked pretty normal, all things considered. Their armor was clearly more advanced and sleeker than ADVENT armor, but they didn’t look any different than regular XCOM soldiers. That was, until the fighting started. A large reason they hadn’t suffered any casualties yet was because they were in constant communication with the commanding officers, and apparently were able to sense where aliens were.

That, and when the aliens _did_ appear, they raised their hands and purple shields appeared in front of where the alien weapons were, absorbing the plasma and allowing the aliens to get shredded by the MDUs. Even Andromedons weren’t safe from the laser weapons the bipedal robots wielded, because whoever had programmed them was _smart_ , and they targeted specific weak points of the armor, joints, tubes, and with literal laser-point accuracy, they caused the Andromedons to flee or die by a thousand cuts.

Duri glanced at the one psion leading the other two. Iosif he believed he was called, who was carrying a _mace_ of all things. All of them were almost ripped out of some fantasy story; at times it seemed so bizarre just what was now possible. Plasma, aliens and tech made sense, and he could easily accept that.

Weird purple magic? That was something else entirely.

Still, he was more than happy to accept their help, because they would need it. The army formations were open, but at least the Corporals and Marshals had taken some care into how they were being put together. There were three main groups of soldiers, each group roughly one to two thousand strong. The majority were Officers and their squads, of which he was one of the ones leading in the front.

In the back, and in between each group were transports holding more soldiers, and carrying trailers of artillery pieces to deploy if needed. There were a few tanks leading the convoys, but the majority of vehicles here were mainly for transport and not direct combat, which Duri could understand since the number of vehicles suited for open combat was small, and the MDUs were much more useful in terrain like this, and especially in urban environments.

Around the midway point between the Officer squads were Purifier teams, Duri believed there were about a hundred Purifiers total, spread throughout the groups. Interspersed within the Officer squads were teams of ADVENT Engineers who were carrying squares of metal that he understood was a new development from ADVENT R&D, actual portable cover.

The specs seemed fairly strong, but Duri wasn’t sure how reliable it would be under sustained fire, and curiously enough, all of the Engineers were armed with Symbiote grenades of all things. Correction: They had some kind of device that could spray that symbiote substance, which looked similar to the med-kits that the medics and XCOM used occasionally.

Probably used to patch up weak points. Either way, they were dispersed in such a way where several layers of ADVENT lines could be established within minutes, which was essential in the open field they would be initially be fighting in.

In front of all the groups were the line of MDUs, colored a stark white presumably to get the attention of the aliens, which shouldn’t be a problem as the machines towered over the regular soldiers. And of course, leading the entire army were the XCOM psions.

“Who are the other two?” He asked his team, even as the red of the energy shield surrounding the captured alien city came into view. “The one with the mace is Iosif, I remember that.”

“Dael and Said,” Beatriz answered, the barrel of her sniper rifle resting on her shoulder while she carried it by the stock. “Don’t ask for their last names, I don’t think they ever said. Spooky if you ask me. Who the hell _charges_ into a team of Andromedons?”

“And then bashes their little green heads in?” Cara finished with a chuckled. “Don’t know, but I like these guys. Anyone that crazy is someone I want on my side.”

Johan clicked his teeth. “Still though, why the hell would you use a _mace_?”

The psion Iosif suddenly raised a fist and the entire Army halted. Before them, Duri saw the alien stronghold in its full glory. All the bordering buildings had been fortified with alien alloys, and reflected a dull gray. Alien snipers were stationed on the roofs, and before the buildings were three layers of alien barricades, all constructed with Andromedon body sizes in mind.

There were hundreds of Andromedons already behind the barricades, their plasma rifles primed and ready, pointed at the ADVENT army encroaching on them. And in front of _them_ was the massive red energy shield that seemed to cover the entire city. There were poles of various heights he saw buried in the ground, presumably the power sources. Some of the sections of the shield were clear, which was probably to give the Andromedons a window to fire out of.

“Engineers!” Iosif, called out, hooking his mace in a slot on his belt. “Establish defenses at the designated coordinates. You will be protected!” At that, the bodies of the psions were suddenly surrounded in purple energy, and Duri watched in amazement as a purple energy shield materialized before them, small at first, but it grew to fill the entire front of the army.

“Wow,” Cara said.

Duri felt that was an appropriate choice of words, and the Engineers began rushing forward and establishing cover, and the aliens took that as their cue to fire. Green plasma flew towards them, but every single shot was negated by the psionic barrier, and the Engineers worked quickly, protected by the impenetrable barrier.

They set up the black squares, placing them vertically to the ground, and spikes shot into the ground, anchoring it in place initially, then metal panels extended out and interlocked with each other, until a full barrier was firmly established.

“Take positions!” One of the other psions ordered, the one with the Egyptian flag on his collar so that was…Said? Probably. It was more Egyptian than Dael.

“Move up!” Duri ordered and his team charged forward and quickly established themselves, holding their rifles at the ready and waiting for the order to fire.

“Target orders?” Beatriz asked, training her sniper rifle at the aliens. “I can get shots at the Andromedons or I can try to take out one of those generators.”

“Rocket also primed,” Kang stated, his rocket launcher aimed at the barricade. “Ready when you are.”

“Target the Andromedons,” Duri instructed Beatriz. “But don’t fire. I want to see what they’re going to do.”

The ‘plan’ as he’d heard it, was that XCOM was going to protect the Purifiers who were going to get relatively close and burn the aliens. In practice, Duri thought there would be some other plan. Maybe that was the public one, since the aliens likely had spies of their own. There had to be more than that.

“Shield will dissipate!” Iosif called. “Return fire at will!”

The purple barrier vanished almost instantly, and the battle officially began. “Open fire!” Duri ordered, as did every other Officer on the front. Plasma was returned with gauss shots, and the red energy shield flickered as it was bombarded with thousands of projectiles. Duri tried firing at the gaps in the shielding, but soon found that he was too far away for his rifle to be _that_ useful.

But he was going to do his damn hardest to contribute.

Behind him the Engineers were already establishing secondary lines, and the Purifier units were moving up. The MDUs were holding position, but were firing back as accurate as ever. They were managing to hit the energy generators, but the Battlefield Engineers behind them were replacing and repairing them just as fast.

“Purifiers! Forward!” Iosif shouted, his hands awash in purple energy. The Purifiers lumbered forward, as slow and methodical as ever, and Duri was instantly worried a stray plasma bolt was going to hit one and blow them all up.

But his worrying was needless, as the Purifiers were suddenly enveloped in what he could only describe as a personal psionic shield. It was partially translucent with a purple tint, but Duri could clearly make out the armored figure within it. How the psions were managing to project a shield on _every_ one of the Purifiers was something Duri didn’t feel like questioning at the moment, but the Purifiers soon took the lead.

The psions themselves trailed behind them, their hands extended towards the Purifiers, and similar shields covered their own bodies. Iosif in particular marched forward, a fist encased in energy raised high in the air, while the other held his mace. Once the psions started marching, the MDUs began their own methodical march forward.

The aliens were now noticing the problem, and even if they didn’t know exactly what the Purifiers were, they knew they were probably dangerous. Duri gritted his teeth several times as a plasma bolt sometimes hit a Purifier directly, but the psionic barrier stopped it, and the Purifier kept marching forward unrelenting.

Duri also noticed that some of the Purifier units weren’t exactly the same. Instead of the armor being black and orange, the color was _white_ and orange, and the label painted on their shoulder was oddly enough, the formula for water.

**H 2O**

He assumed it stood for something else. However…

The Purifiers stopped at what was probably one hundred or one-fifty feet away, best as he could tell. The white-striped Purifiers stepped forward, raised their weapons and shot out blasts of…water?

Beatriz whistled. “Friend, you are crazy.”

She _had_ said that CIF3 reacted violently with water, didn’t she?

The water Purifiers continued spraying down the area in front of the shield, soaking the ground and the fronts of the generators. Then just as quickly, they stopped, and stepped behind the line of main Purifiers who now raised their flamethrowers, starting flames lit and extended far from the barrel.

The command was heard by everyone from Iosif.

_“Light them up!”_

What followed Duri would never forget for the rest of his life. He’d always thought flamethrowers were little short-range weapons that were dangerous, but only if you acted like an idiot about them. Not so here. The idea that flamethrowers were ‘short-range’ was, as he saw now, a complete myth.

Cones of white-hot flame shot across the battlefield and into the shield, and the instant they made contact with the soaked ground, the entire front of the shield exploded in a series of white smoky blasts that initially forced him to look away. When he looked back, the shield was visibly dissipating, and the Purifiers were moving forward, chemical flames blasting into the alien lines.

The water Purifiers behind them were aiming their water cannons into the air, and firing again, aiming to rain down water directly on the alien position, but Duri already knew it was complete overkill. Interestingly enough, the Andromedon suits were still intact, although on fire, but it was clear that whatever their helmets were made out of was _not_ fireproof.

Duri was fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to see a Purifier fire directly into a pod of Andromedons who were trying to get the fuck away. The initial blast turned their armor black and set the metal on fire, and literally everything else that wasn’t an alien alloy melted or disintegrated into nothing. The green and red helmets of the Andromedons melted like butter and the moment the chemical flames touched the alien within, the suits exploded, leaving only scraps behind.

The ground was burning now, and the fire was spreading into the city as the Purifiers continued shooting white flames into the doomed aliens, and the loud pop of explosions was still heard as water rained down, soaking even more of the city, ticking and innocent time bombs as the fire reached further.

The few non-Andromedons might as well have been wearing nothing when the flames hit. Duri saw a Vitakarian evaporate, boil, or explode, he wasn’t sure which. And there were a group of…other aliens, sectoids maybe, that seemed to disappear the moment the flames covered them. Then there were the aliens that were on fire, and trying frantically to put it out, trying to pat it down, which only resulted in more of them catching on fire, or accidentally committing suicide by trying to douse themselves or others in water.

Cara summed up what most of them were feeling. “Holy shit.”

All of them could only agree, as the Purifiers began to move on to encircle the city, and creating a ring of fire the aliens would not be able to escape from. And ADVENT listened to the screams of their enemy, and watched the fire as it consumed everything in its path.

***

_Nuclear Storage Base 2, Pakistan_

Roman felt that if he were on the opposite side of the small military base before them, he would be sufficiently terrified. ADVENT had the base completely surrounded, with MDUs encircling the base at all intervals, guarding THAAD and Point-Laser defense systems being rolled into place if the soldiers tried to launch a nuclear missile.

The main bulk of the ADVENT army was at the ‘front’ of the base, where Roman could see at least a few hundred Pakistani soldiers preparing to fight, hunkering behind barricades of boxes and sandbags.

All of them were as good as dead.

XCOM had also deemed to send one of their own to assist, and she was probably the scariest woman he’d ever seen. Ignoring the actual _sword_ she carried, and the massive alloy shotgun, her body language and tone screamed _danger_ to him. She walked as purposefully and emotionlessly as the MDUs around them.

Carmelita, that was her name. Unique to him, which was probably why he remembered it. And she had been pacing back and forth for the past fifteen minutes, the sword held idly in her hand as she was waiting for the order to attack. She reminded him of a tiger, or another animal stalking its prey. Every single person in there was marked for death, and Roman had the feeling that in a battle with this woman against everyone in the base…his money would be on the woman.

From what Roman could tell of the base itself, it was fairly small and ill-equipped for any kind of sustained attack. There was a main command building, and airfields for planes to take off, and that had actually been the initial response, which was to send up aircraft…which had immediately gotten blown out of the sky by the AA defenses established.

The Pakistani soldiers were looking to put up a good fight, if a fruitless one.

Roman had to admire their bravery in the face of death, but he wasn’t sure if it _was_ bravery or just plain stupidity. Either way, it was time to get started and end this war once and for all.

Maksim looked down the scope of his sniper rifle. “[And so it will end. What a pointless death.]”

Galina shrugged. “[I’m just glad it will be over soon.]”

“[Agreed,]” Anton nodded. “[Past time we join the real war.]”

 _“Attack at will,”_ the orders came suddenly, and Roman’s team fell into formation and began slowly marching towards the base. There were six Shieldbearer teams, with even more behind them, and Carmelita led the pack, twirling the sword in her hand with the blade suddenly turned orange, as if red-hot.

“[Shield up,]” Roman stated, as he activated his gear. “[Open fire!]”

Everyone in ADVENT began firing at the opposing soldiers, sending a hail of gauss fire that tore through their flimsy defenses, killing the front line almost immediately, and the few shots in retaliation simply bounced off the armor or his shielding. Carmelita yelled and _jumped_ at least twenty feet toward the back of the Pakistani line and Roman realized he was right to consider her dangerous.

Carmelita killed quickly and brutally. With several swipes she dismembered and decapitated the immediate soldiers around her, grabbed another hapless one and slammed the point of her sword through his skull from under the chin, and then she extended her left hand and… _something_ came out of it.

It was some sort of nightmarish tentacle, which looked more suited for a jellyfish. It was pale and the stinger at the end glistening with some kind of liquid. It impaled itself in the eye of one soldier, and then wrapped itself around the throat of another, and choked him to death while Carmelita swung her free hand holding the sword in a wide arc, slicing open the chests of a few more soldiers.

Roman wasn’t sure if she was a typical representative of XCOM, but if so…no wonder ADVENT liked playing nice with them.

The remaining Pakistani soldiers were running deeper into the base, at this point running from the now-blood covered XCOM soldier who was now sheathing her sword in a slot on her back, and pulling out her shotgun and firing into the backs of retreating soldiers.

Konstantin snorted. “[Did we really need to come?]”

“[I’m wondering that myself,]” Roman commented as he shot two soldiers who were trying to hide behind some wooden crates. “[I guess we know why ADVENT is legally bound to fund XCOM. Can any of us do _that?_ ] _”_

 _That_ , which was now referring to Carmelita turning into some kind of leapfrog with a shotgun. He could swear he heard her chuckling as she leapt in front of fleeing soldiers, before unloading shotgun blasts in their chests, or beheading them with her sword. She seemed to be interchanging between them frequently.

“[She’s practicing,]” Elena noted calmly as she gunned down several soldiers trying to set up a mounted minigun. “[This isn’t serious combat for her.]”

“[No shit,]” Galina said sarcastically. “[I’d like to see what she does if she _is_ trying.]”

“[Hey, we need to secure those missiles!]” Anton yelled, and pointed to a rack of missiles against a wall. Roman didn’t know if they were nuclear, but they needed to do so anyway.

“[Secure them,]” he ordered, and they began moving towards that location. The semblance of defense that the Pakistani army had promised had long since dissipated, and now it was simply a matter of hunting down any who didn’t surrender. And by the looks of it, no one had yet.

Maybe not a surprise. You didn’t get sent to guard a secret nuclear site without being sufficiently loyal. Most of these men probably didn’t know their government was abolished, and even if they did, he doubted they would have given up anyway. But in the end, it didn’t matter as he simply shot every enemy soldier he saw, and most of them were powerless to stop them.

The MDUs had entered the premises now, and Roman could now call it a massacre, although that wasn’t fair to ascribe that to this battle now. Because this wasn’t a battle, it was a slaughter and they were the butchers. Roman found himself feeling somewhat disappointed at how… _easy_ it was.

But if it was the last time he had to fight in this damn desert, then it was worth it.

“Missiles secure,” he stated. “Status of the enemy forces?”

 _“Routed,”_ came the response. _“Another team secured their nuclear arsenal here. I’m getting updates that the same is happening at the other locations. We all did it. The Pakistani threat is neutralized.”_

Roman grinned. “That’s good news, sir.”

And now he could relax. At least for a few days until he was sent to fight aliens. But he felt every one of his team deserved some rest. The War for Pakistan was over, and the Middle East would soon fall.

Yes, they’d definitely earned a break.

***

_Exterior of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia_

Reduced in power as Saudi Arabia had been over the years, they had still managed to construct some impressive buildings. There were few buildings she would consider to be skyscrapers, but they towered over the lesser structures which she supposed were houses, businesses and the few remaining mosques in the world.

But even the tall buildings couldn’t completely hide that the days of Saudi influence had ended. The skyscrapers were dull, sand-blasted and blocky. Remnants of much more intricate designs were spread throughout the city, half-finished or abandoned, either from a lack of money or resources. Riyadh had at one point been considered luxurious, but those days were long past.

Perhaps they would come again, but it would not be from the Saudis. By tomorrow, they would be gone for good.

Marshal Helsa Betos, of one of the Israeli Garrisons, stood before the city, reflecting once more before what would likely be the final battle that took place here.

She was conflicted.

She was not a stranger to practicality or callousness; she would never have chosen a career in the military were it otherwise. Yet there was a point where she had to question just _where_ such a line was. ADVENT Command was right, this war needed to be ended. She doubted any of them disputed that point. Yet the way it was to be ended was…extreme, even within the confines of the Directive.

It was something she had learned very quickly after Israel had joined ADVENT and their military had been restructured to conform to ADVENT standards. ADVENT did not have empathy. Betos genuinely didn’t believe any of those in charge could really fathom _why_ these countries didn’t surrender to them. They couldn’t understand their continued defiance, when it flew in the face of logic and reason.

They didn’t seem to have any recognition that they _might_ not be completely right. Betos agreed that the alien threat was the larger issue, but…again, ADVENT once more took the most extreme measure possible in subduing what they saw as a threat, which given how every Middle Eastern nation that had actually fought them was utterly decimated…she couldn’t see how ADVENT could see them as anything more than an annoyance.

They most certainly were not a _threat_.

It also didn’t help that many countrymen she knew were treating this war as a means of revenge, vengeance and retribution against the region that had once stood united in its hate for them, a hate that had never really faded. Israel demanded blood, and they were finally carrying out the mission many of them had dreamed of. Palestine had been the first step, and now they were finishing the job.

That, Betos believed, was not why a war should be fought. Nowinski had called it a neutralization of the enemies of Israel, but now it had turned into a campaign of revenge.

One that she was now a part of.

It was eerie how much people could change once rules were removed or lessened. Men and women she’d served with for years had given orders that would have been seen as war crimes before ADVENT, yet were perfectly permissible under the current administration. Words like _mercy_ , _surrender_ and _respect_ had been thrown away in the quest towards total and complete victory. It wasn’t enough for ADVENT to win, they had to crush the enemy to absolutely nothing and salt the earth which they had died on.

Effective perhaps, but it came at a price.

Nothing solidified that she was living in a world where the rules were changed more than her time working with the Commander of XCOM. He was an enigma to her, a mix of contradictions and personalities that didn’t seem to match. On the surface she was immediately attracted to his calm demeanor and clear respect for his subordinates. He didn’t seem to see himself as innately superior to them, and had asked them for input quite often.

Betos could see why he had been put in charge of XCOM, and it helped that he was clearly smart as well.

Yet in direct contrast to his friendly demeanor to his subordinates…he was the embodiment of ADVENT’s military directive. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he’d written the damn thing himself. It was chilling hearing him calmly describing the plan to execute an entire family, and draw up orders for the execution of all hostile military soldiers.

No one was worth any extra consideration in his eyes. Man or woman, the Commander marked them for death. His one line appeared to be children, but he clearly didn’t think about the effect it would have on the children, seeing their parents getting shot in front of them. It was worse since he had been explicitly clear that no surrender was to be accepted.

His rationale was just as practical as the rest of him. “Facing death reveals the true nature of people. Most will beg for their life in order to save it, regardless of why they are in that situation to begin with. These people have been given the opportunity and refused. Their chances are spent, and their tears will not change their feat.”

What was unnerving to her was that he had a way of presenting his plan as making _sense_. He operated on pure logic, and _because_ of that, she couldn’t easily refute what he was saying. Morality was not a word in his used vocabulary, and one he seemed to hold some disdain for. The Commander didn’t really care about liberating the people here, or improving the Middle East, he only cared about the negation of a threat.

She recognized that was certainly a major part of strategy…but there _had_ to be some kind of balance. She’d at least tried to treat the captured soldiers and civilians well, and she had the capability to empathize with what they were going though. She had some more perspective on that than most, and tried to apply that in this war.

The Advent Directive itself thankfully allowed for such small mercies, but it was abundantly clear now that the ones who really mattered only cared about the victory, and not the means or what even came after.

That bothered her. Did she really have a place in it then if this is what she could be repeatedly ordered to carry out? How long was it going to be before ADVENT started sending military forces to simply shut down people who peacefully opposed them?

She snorted.

Stein’s appointment suddenly made a lot more sense, now that she thought about it. That psychopath was a perfect fit for what ADVENT wanted, which was a state free of all dissent.

At any cost.

“I don’t think the architecture is _that_ interesting,” the familiar voice of her second-in-command stated as he walked up behind her. “I doubt some of it will be standing tomorrow.”

“What better time to memorize it, Mox?” She asked the towering soldier now at her side. “I doubt anyone else will care.”

He crossed his arms, his tone full of disapproval. “You actually sound surprised at that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m too much of an idealist.”

“Idealism is dead,” he stated flatly. “It died when ADVENT took over. We’re now all tools of the state. I told you what these leaders were like, and you didn’t believe me. It’s changed, hasn’t it?”

She took off her helmet, and let the air wash over her bald scalp. “Maybe you were right,” she admitted. “These people aren’t like us.”

“Which is why you need to resist them,” Mox said grimly, moving around to face her. “At some point you have to make a stand. Do you _really_ believe it’s necessary to kill off the _entire_ Royal Family? Do you really think that _all_ of them are equally influential?”

“Of course not!” She snapped, gritting her teeth. “But what exactly am I supposed to do? Defy a direct order from the Commander of _XCOM_? Do you even _know_ what kind of man you’re talking about here? He doesn’t see innocence or guilt, only potential threats. And he _eliminates_ threats, Mox. Until you’ve met him, don’t say that speaking against him is a viable option.”

Mox was silent for a few moments. “You’re a good woman. I’ve known that for years. But I’m worried you won’t be one if you keep…doing this. And I’m worried about myself as well. Both of us joined to protect people, and right now it doesn’t feel like we’re doing that.”

“No,” she agreed softly. “It doesn’t. But what other choice do we have? Leave?”

Both of them were silent, until Betos’ wrist chirped an incoming message. She quickly put on her helmet. “Marshal Betos. Status?”

 _“We’ve got a defector,”_ came the answer. _“Says he’s part of the Royal Family. Appears to be legitimate, he brought his family and personal guard with him. We’ve taken them into custody, and he’s being escorted to the Commander now. He wants you there with him.”_

That was unexpected. About time one of the Saudi’s got smart. “I’m on my way,” she said, then clicked off, looking up at Mox. “It appears one of the Royal Family defected. The Commander is going to speak to him now.”

“Really?” He visibly perked up. “Well, get going!”

She took his advice and dashed off at a quick jog, moving through the ADVENT camp where soldiers quickly got out of her way as she marched through the winding paths. The Command Structure was a quickly-constructed building made out of lightweight tiles and walls that snapped together to form a secure shelter stronger than a tent.

There wasn’t much room inside it, but enough for a small holotable and room enough for at least three or four other people. Betos opened the door to see the Commander standing on the far end of the holotable, dressed in his full Aegis armor. The silver gleamed in the light, and his gauss sniper rifle and pulse rifle were hooked to slots on his back. The helmet was resting on the holotable, and the Commander appeared more inquisitive than anything else. No surprise he was in armor, Betos knew he was going to participate in the battle.

The other man did appear to be a wealthy Saudi man. He was dressed in white and gold robes, and the traditional headdress with cloth that fell to his shoulders was affixed with the black band. She knew that particular piece had a name, she just didn’t remember it off the top of her head. His skin was a ruddy tan, and he had a full black beard which was neatly groomed.

“Betos, good, you’re here,” the Commander nodded in her direction. “Now, you may begin.”

“Yes,” the man said, bowing to her as she went and took a place by the Commander. “My name is Maqil bin Abdulaziz Al Saud, of the Royal Family of Saudi Arabia, brother to King Dhul Fiqar Abdulaziz Al Saud.”

The Commander gave a single nod. “Yes, I recognize you now. Surprising, that you’re standing here before me. I would not have expected someone so highly placed to defect at this stage.”

“You must understand, Commander…” He paused, waiting for the Commander to reveal his name.

“’Commander,’ will suffice,” was the answer.

“You must understand, Commander,” Maqil continued. “We are a proud people, we do not see the humiliation of surrender as something to aspire to. Call it arrogance if you wish, but the Royal Family sees this as an unjust war, and the aggressors as people who seek to destroy our culture and way of life.”

The Commander’s face hardened. “If it was an unjust war, we would not be in this situation. You coordinated with other Middle Eastern nations to attack Israel, and now you are paying the price. And I am most certainly here to destroy your culture _and_ way of life. This is not my first time here, Maqil bin Abdulaziz, I have seen your so-called ‘culture’ and ‘way of life’ and it is an oppressive and restrictive monarchy. It has no place in the modern world, and it will be abolished and reconstructed. Change will only come to this region with force, and neither ADVENT nor I are hesitant to bring it about.”

Maqil seemed to not be expecting the rolling anger in the Commander’s voice. “Believe me or not, but my family had nothing to do with the egregious attack on Israel.” He shook his head. “However, I believe that is beside the point now. What is done is done, and I assume within the next few hours you will attack.”

“Yes,” the Commander stated.

“What are you planning to do?” Maqil asked. “What is to be the fate of my family and the citizens just living their lives? I do not ask for mercy for my brother, I suspect you have determined his fate, but I do ask that you treat the citizens and the innocent ones in my family fairly.”

“The extended Saudi family has little to worry about,” the Commander dismissed. “It would be impractical and pointless to hunt down those with very little real power. But the core of the family, they will be executed. No exceptions. The family will die, and it will never rise to power again, and I will not risk letting them live and attempt to influence their subjects from afar. The time for mercy for your family is long past. The civilians will be treated fairly, provided they follow ADVENT’s laws. If they are foolish enough to antagonize the soldiers, they will not be spared.”

Maqil visibly became deflated. “I suppose there is nothing I can do to convince you to simply take them alive?”

“No.” The Commander answered flatly. “They should have surrendered when they had the chance. That chance is gone. Why are you here, Maqil? You had to know your demands were unlikely.”

“First, to secure the lives of my wife and children,” he began. “And second…because I want to help ensure the city is taken as quickly and bloodlessly as possible.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? How could you possibly help? Our military is far superior to your own.”

“Yes, it is,” Maqil quickly agreed, bobbing his head. “However, taking the city will only be the first step. The people will not respond well initially to a foreign power in charge, no matter your intentions. It will cause…problems, and I have seen how ADVENT responds to dissent, such as in Iran, and I have no wish for that to happen to the population.”

He spread his hands. “However, this can be avoided with my help. I am known to the people. They will react better if one of their own is seen with ADVENT, especially if it is me. Your problems can be easily avoided if you simply install me as a…temporary King, or at least until the population is sufficiently placated.”

Betos almost winced. She genuinely wasn’t sure if this was an opportunistic power grab or a legitimate strategy the man wanted to employ. On the surface, she would agree. The leaders of countries and even regions should reflect their citizens. It would be wrong for the Head of State for Saudi Arabia to be anything other than a Saudi, or at least someone of Arabic ethnicity.

The question was if the Commander would see it that way. As it was, he simply had one eyebrow raised.

“Quite convenient for you,” he commented. “You survive the purge of your family, and in return gain the power of King. As it happens, I do think it would make most sense for a Saudi to eventually preside as the Governor of Riyadh. But I’m not sure it should be you.”

The Commander raised a gauntleted finger at him. “Saudi Arabia will no longer be a sovereign power in the world. It will become a territory under ADVENT control, or might be given to Israel depending on what is negotiated. And concerning your own appointment, ADVENT does not work like that. After the peace is established, ADVENT will hold elections, with approved candidates, and the winner of said elections will preside as Governor of whatever is left of Saudi Arabia.”

The Commander paused. “If you wish to have this position, you must earn it. I don’t know if you are a good leader or not. I don’t know your qualifications. With that said, you have made the right decision siding with us, and I will remember that. The decision of allowing you to run for a government position is not up to me, but if you are sincere about wanting to, then I will personally approve you for Governor application. If you actually have the skills, than I see no problem allowing you to help. Is this acceptable for you?”

Maqil sighed. “I believe it will have to be. Nonetheless, my help is at your disposal, should you need it.”

“Good,” the Commander stated. “In the meantime, we will find a place for you here. The attack will take place in a few hours, and we will not have need of you until the military and political threat your family poses is removed. Be ready to be called upon.”

“Yes, Commander,” he said, bowing. “I will do what I can to assist.”

“Then dismissed,” the Commander stated, and then when Maqil left, he turned to her. “Betos, are the soldiers ready?”

She nodded. “Ready and waiting, Commander.”

“Then give the order,” he stated, reaching for his helmet. “We attack now.”

Betos blinked. “Now? But you told him that-“

“I find it suspicious that he happened to leave the city with _no one_ stopping him,” the Commander said, his voice artificially harder from the helmet. “He seems genuine, at least in his desire to be a more, ah, ‘benevolent ruler’, and to acquire more power for himself. But I would not be surprised if there is one of his entourage that is compromised by the Saudi Family. Not that it matters, but I would prefer to catch them off guard then even give them a few hours to prepare. There is no need to delay, regardless. I think you want this over with as much as I.”

Betos could only nod. “I certainly do, Commander.”

“Then launch the attack,” he stated, walking past her. “Their threat ends today.”

***

_Riyadh, Saudi Arabia_

The perimeter of Riyadh lit up with muzzle flashes as the Saudi soldiers realized that ADVENT was actually attacking. Their bullets were answered with gauss rounds from ADVENT soldiers and lasers from the MDUs that led the front. The Commander fired his own pulse laser, cutting through several Saudi soldiers with ease, and in a few minutes that MDUs had neutralized most of the initial defense line.

Riyadh was a large city, and there was a lot of ground to cover between the Royal Palace and the city perimeter, but the Commander wasn’t exactly pressed for time at the moment. He’d have the MDUs surround the city, and all the major exits were covered in the unlikely event that the Royal Family tried to leave.

The Saudis had declared martial law a while ago, so that was hopefully going to keep the majority of the civilians out of the line of fire, and he sincerely doubted that the military would be stupid enough to use the citizens as human shields or hostages. Perhaps if this was a lesser city, but not the capital of Saudi Arabia itself.

The Commander leapt onto one of the roofs, pulled out his sniper rifle and sighted in on a group of soldiers rushing forward to defend the city. Four gauss shots later all of them were lying on the sandy concrete, dead from headshots, looks of complete surprise on their faces.

Good to see he hadn’t fallen out of practice.

He swept his scope around his immediate area, looking for more soldiers to take out, and helped ADVENT soldiers by taking out their opposition from afar. He really didn’t need to, as the ADVENT military was cutting through the Saudis like a wet piece of paper. Even their heavy equipment like mounted machine guns barely had enough power to even wound ADVENT soldiers.

It was apparent where the Saudis had been hit hardest after he’d executed the King and immediate family the last time he’d been here. No one wanted to deal with them, as the stigma was still too great. The Commander expected that hadn’t been a problem for countries like China, Russia and even the United States to make secret deals, as they still had oil.

Yet all of those countries were operating from clear positions of strength. Saudi Arabia didn’t have a choice if they wanted to make deals. They tended to be old weapons and arms, outdated and flawed weaponry that had been replaced with something better. It showed. Their weapons, armor, and even heavier pieces were irrelevant twenty-year old pieces of junk that the ones who had actually sold them were probably laughing at just how bad the Saudis had been ripped off.

In the end, he wasn’t disappointed the Saudis weren’t providing a challenge to him. He was just finally glad they were being dealt with decisively.

It all came full circle it seemed. Wasn’t that long ago that he was waging another war here. He’d technically won, but he had known he’d not solved the problem completely. The problem would never be solved as long as these countries still existed in these current forms.

He liked to think of this as finishing the job.

Fate had a sense of humor and irony, last time he’d been acting alone without government support. Now he was _leading_ the armies against them.

ADVENT forces had now made major inroads in the city, and the Saudis were in full retreat. He’d been sure to bring the entire Garrison so they could effectively cut off all areas of retreat, and clear the streets systematically and quickly. So he kept going forward, leaping to different roofs as he assisted the various squads of soldiers and took out all opposition in their path.

The Commander quickly fell into a familiar pattern as they methodically advanced through the city. He leapt across the roofs of buildings, fell into position, and took out as many enemies as he could see until the ADVENT forces had pushed far enough that there were no more targets for him, and he leapt forward to the next building to repeat the same thing over again.

He didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, the Royal Palace was in sight, a compound that stood above all the rest of the plain city because it was clearly the most luxurious. The walls were a gleaming tan stone, and had silver trim. The ornate building in the middle had a domed top, many windows and surrounding it was expertly trimmed landscaping and decorative pieces like benches, arches and fountains.

The Commander only shook his head and sighed. Even now the Saudi Royal Family couldn’t let go of their wealth and power, even if it resulted in the rest of the country suffering by comparison. His lips set in a firm line, he systematically eliminated the guards around the palace, even as the ADVENT soldiers surrounded the gates.

Time for him to move in.

He jumped down and made his way over to the entrance where the soldiers had already blasted the gate apart, and were ready and waiting to advance forward. “Remember,” he instructed them. “With the exception of the children, kill all inside. Are there any traps being picked up?”

One of the Engineers shook his head. “No, Commander. Seems to be all clear.”

“No signs of any of them fleeing,” Betos updated, also walking up, her second in command, Pratel Mox, he remembered, close behind. “My soldiers have surrounded the palace and are sweeping the rest of the streets for stragglers.”

The Commander nodded. “Move in. I will deal with the King.”

With the soldiers at his back, the Commander marched forward, his pulse rifle at the ready as they reached the massive white doors leading into the palace. A sustained laser melted the locks, and they stepped inside the palace.

He knew foreigners were rarely allowed in, but the place had changed surprisingly little since the last time he’d been here. The obvious thing that stood out was that the palace was _shiny_. The stairways, floors and furniture all gleamed as if recently polished. There were some men and women standing in the small ballroom, who froze as they marched inside, and could barely react before they were cut down with gauss rounds.

The Commander knew where the King would be.

The same place where he’d killed the last one.

“There are two basement floors below this, and three above,” he told Betos. “I will go deal with the King now. Divide your soldiers accordingly.”

“Yes, Commander.”

With that he jumped up to the highest floor, which was easily accessible with the open architecture of the palace. He pulled himself over the railing and began walking down the luxurious hallways that were decorated with portraits, rugs, and golden lamps which lit his way.

One man suddenly rounded the corner and yelled in panic before trying to turn around, though not before the Commander telekinetically grasped him with a raised hand, psionic power converging around the prosthetic. He kept walking forward, even as the man struggled against the unrelenting grip. The Commander squeezed his hand and the man’s neck snapped with an audible crack, and the Commander let his body fall, slumping against the wall.

The Saudis didn’t have a ‘throne room’, even they weren’t that obnoxious, but they did have an equivalent of course. It was a grand ballroom, with a single massive table in the middle, under the golden domed top. It was honestly one of the most impressive rooms the Commander had ever seen; a shame it had to be here.

The massive double doors in front of him were closed, but the Commander forced them over with a simple telekinetic gesture and he stepped inside the ballroom. Complete silence met him as he stared across to the table where a man in similar attire to Maqil was seated, and by his side a woman who he presumed was the wife, in a rather pretty white dress, her raven hair expertly styled and falling just below her shoulders.

King Dhul Fiqar Abdulaziz Al Saud simply watched him as he walked forward, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silent room until he was at the opposite end of the polished table. “So, the fabled Commander of XCOM approaches,” King Dhul said, his voice low and rich. “No doubt here to gloat over your victory.”

“I don’t gloat, your majesty,” the Commander said, pulling out his pistol and setting it on the table. “Your soldiers didn’t put up enough of a fight for me to feel particularly good about gloating.”

“Then why are you here then?” He asked, lacing his fingers together. “To ask for my surrender? To take me into custody and parade me before the world? A last final humiliation.”

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “I am here to kill you, and your entire family.”

The King stiffened. “Even ADVENT would not be so monstrous as to do such a thing. You are many things, but you would not stoop to the level of murderers.”

“Executioners,” the Commander corrected. “Murder would imply the death is unjust. If I recall, you were given plenty of time to surrender. Offers were made, and all refused. You had your chance to live, and you refused. You are a threat to ADVENT, and will remain one as long as you live. We have enough problems to deal with without you.”

With that he raised the pistol and shot the woman beside him in the head, killing her instantly. The King bolted up, his fists clenched and face white with fury. “You will _not_ get away with this! You may kill all of us, but your day of reckoning will come. The world will see you for what you are and rise against you.”

The Commander laughed. “That is very similar to what your predecessor said, right before I killed him.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Impossible. The Commander killed him, and the Commander was executed. His time came, just as yours will.”

“Did it?” The Commander asked, pulling off his helmet with a short _hiss_. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, _your majesty_. I didn’t die after I surrendered to the UN.”

He paled even further. “You are dead! You cannot have survived! I _watched_ you die!”

“Yes, I’m sure you did,” the Commander nodded with a smile. “But I’m not exactly a fan of dying, and the whole story of how I’m still alive is long and complicated, suffice to say that there were more people who recognized my worth than who wanted me dead.”

He slumped back into his chair. “Then all I can hope is that the world learns of-“

“No one cares,” the Commander interrupted bluntly. “No one will mourn your death, or the war against this region which has been nothing but problems for decades. Order will be brought here, and before you die, do know that you failed. You will be placed into an unmarked grave, and your name will fade into history.”

The Commander raised his gauss pistol and said the same words he’d said to the previous King. “Pray to your God, and pray he exists, for you will meet him now.”

He fired and blew the head of King Dhul Fiqar Abdulaziz Al Saud apart.

And thus, the battle of Saudi Arabia ended.

***

_Mackay, Australia_

“Targets in sight,” Joseph said from the foliage where he and Abby were situated, the rest of the Resistance soldiers were waiting in similar areas, and where the Chronicler was, Abby had no idea. So she was here waiting for the order to attack, gauss rifle in hand. Joseph had his sniper rifle at the ready, and was looking through the scope on one knee.

“Which ones?” She asked with some sarcasm, as there were a minimum of twenty aliens in the small town before them. Most were Muton soldiers, guarding the perimeter, with some Vitakara snipers on the roofs of the houses and buildings. No Andromedons, Elites or Berserkers, so that was good. But there had to be some deeper in the town.

“Snipers are the larger threat,” he answered, gesturing slightly with his rifle. “Mutons are stupid, large and brutish. Snipers cause more damage. Shoot the far left one, and go down the line until all of them are corpses.” His tone grew more mocking. “Idiots. They didn’t even bother to try and rig up a good sniper nest, no. They just stand up in the open.”

“Good enough,” Abby shrugged. “Whatever makes it easier for you.”

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “So, what’s your story agent? Call it intuition, but I get the feeling yours is interesting. More so than mine, anyway.”

“I doubt that,” Abby answered, shooting him a frown. “Not all of us were a part of a worldwide global conspiracy, _Falka_.”

“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten that isn’t exactly normal,” he chuckled. “I’ve sort of stopped thinking about it as anything special. It was just reality for years. So fine, I’m a little interesting. You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Fine,” she relented. “Short version is that I was an XCOM soldier, a medic specifically. Our Intelligence Director thought I would be a good agent and made me an offer. I accepted, toured the world, shut down a few EXALT cells, ended with my team getting killed by a UN assassin of all things.” She glanced over at him. “I would say sorry for ruining your Russia cell, but I’m not.”

“Interesting,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I’d never have guessed you were a medic, kinda goes against the stuff you said in the briefing.”

Abby looked back towards the town. “I changed.”

“So I see,” Joseph nodded, lowering his sniper rifle and looking at her. “Color me impressed. Not a lot of people can handle what we have to do in this job, much less people who used to save lives.”

“Depends on your perspective,” Abby said. “How many lives will we save right now?”

“A fair point,” he nodded. “One I happen to agree with. Even if you worked against us, I can respect what you did. Can’t say I wouldn’t have shot you in the head, were we still enemies, but you would have fit in well with us.”

“’Us’ as in your family? Or EXALT?”

“One and the same,” he clarified. “Or at least it was. We’re all part of ADVENT now. But you have everything needed for a good Falka agent. You’re smart, resourceful, practical, attractive, and adaptable. What more could be useful in an agent?”

Abby flushed unexpectedly. “Cute. That doesn’t work on me, Falka.”

Joseph glanced over at her. “What, because I called you attractive? I wasn’t flirting with you, if that’s what you thought. I read the report on the Russia cell being compromised, and given some of the tactics used, I’d think you know more than most how fallible we are to our own mortal needs.” He finished with a smile.

Abby wished her mind hadn’t immediately jumped to that assumption. “Right, sorry.”

“Trust me,” Joseph chuckled. “I would be a lot more charming if I wanted to flirt with you.”

“And I would probably punch you.”

He was still amused. “Fair enough.”

“My turn,” Abby said. “What’s it like growing up in the Illuminati fan club?”

“And just where do you think that concept came from?” He asked knowingly. “EXALT didn’t always have its name. But your question is a good one, and I rarely get the privilege of talking to people who didn’t already know it. My family was a little different than most, and even in the family, my training was very different.”

“How so?”

He pinched his forehead. “Let’s see…alright, you have to understand what the goal of the Falka family was. Many times, members of the family are just…ordinary people. They have jobs, families, friends. But they really are spies. They spend their lives as sleeper agents of a sort, and they are effectively the reason why EXALT had such a reach around the world.”

It made Abby’s brain hurt just trying to grasp the scale of such an operation. The concept wasn’t so alien, but the fact that someone had actually _done_ it was…disconcerting. It was enough to make someone paranoid, as there really were spies all around. “Of course, they aren’t _all_ Falka agents,” he clarified. “But most were. Then there were the dedicated “Intelligence” organs of the family, and _that_ is what I was a part of. Specifically, I was identified as a good candidate for long-term undercover operations.”

“What made you stand out?” She asked.

“The first thing Falka children are taught, regardless of where they’re born, is how to lie,” he explained. “For obvious reasons, we can’t have children being a weak link. Kids tend to accidentally say stuff they shouldn’t. We teach them to lie instead. As it happened, I was _very_ good at lying. Well, for a ten-year-old I guess.”

Abby was very glad she had never heard details of this family before. Every other family at least seemed somewhat… _understandable_ , from what she knew of them. But this was just bizarre and creepy. Kids shouldn’t be able to do that kind of stuff, especially not being _taught_ to do it. “So I pretty much spent my life training how to blend in and kill,” Joseph continued. “I might have had a good, successful career as an agent. Sadly, or perhaps not, the aliens threw a wrench into that plan. This is technically my first assignment.”

“Oh?” Abby raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “Not exactly what you were training for, is it?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “But I’m not going to complain about killing some aliens.”

“So,” Abby said, now openly amused. “Does this mean I technically have more experience than you? At least as an intelligence agent.”

“Perhaps if we want to get _technical_ ,” he admitted, apparently taking an interest in his sniper rifle again.

Abby kept her amusement to herself, and looked back over the town. _If you’re finished with chatting up your partner, I do believe we’ve got a town to liberate._

And just like that, her good mood dissipated. _I thought I told you to get the hell out of my head._

_Then try to a little more to keep your emotions in check. Every psion in this area can probably sense you. Who knew your secret was to comment on your looks?_

Abby internally rolled her eyes. _Do this again and I’ll report you to Zhang. Anyway, you ready?_

_Yes, yes. I believe the command will be given in the next few seconds._

Sure enough, a voice came on her earpiece. _“Begin the attack.”_

Joseph fired, and one of the snipers fell. All the aliens froze, and that gave him time to shoot several more in their heads, before they finally got wise and abandoned the roofs to get some real cover. With a yell the Resistance soldiers emerged from their ambush points, firing their gauss rifles at the unprepared alien horde.

Abby herself hefted her rifle and charged forward, feeling like she’d had a good night’s sleep and was fully energized and ready for battle. Two more Mutons fell to the ground from headshots, and all the aliens seemed to be reacting much slower than usual. They shuffled towards the buildings for cover, haphazardly as if drunk, and their return fire was wildly inaccurate, as opposed to the Resistance soldiers, who were seeming to hit everything with pinpoint accuracy.

Herself and the Resistance soldiers charged into the town, several beginning to knock on doors and get the civilians themselves out, while the vanguard kept charging forward deeper into the city. Abby wasn’t sure why she was feeling like this, but everything for her seemed focused and clear. Her mind was fully directed on the task at hand, and it was as if all her senses and reflexes were enhanced.

She could swear she _heard_ the hiss of a plasma rifle charging and managed to pull the soldier in front of her back just as a lance of green plasma shot past. They turned to see one of three Andromedons lower his rifle, and order the other Mutons around him to open fire, as well as the other Andromedons behind him.

“Cover!” One of the soldiers shouted, and all of them slid into cover behind boxes, crates, pillars and houses. Abby swung out, aimed her rifle at one of the Mutons and sighted in in what felt like milliseconds before pulling the trigger and seeing the gauss rounds tear the unprotected flesh apart with a golden spurt of blood.

The Andromedons realized that something was wrong with how accurate these Humans were, and they themselves seemed to be affected as well, moving slower and reacting too late as gauss rounds hit their torsos and helmets. One had its helmet cracked, and the other two were leaking fluids. One of the Andromedons raised a fist towards them, and several green projectiles shot out.

“Acid!” Abby warned. “Get down!”

Most heeded her warning, but there were a few that screamed as the green chemical hit them and began eating through their padding and skin. Abby hissed as a new surge of energy swept through her and she swung out with her rifle again, and somehow knew each major weak point of the Andromedon before her, and somehow managed to shoot a gauss round at each one within seconds.

She hadn’t been alone in the sudden increase in marksmanship, every other remaining soldier was affected as well, and the results were instantaneous. One of the masks of the Andromedons burst open, and the alien inside let out a shriek of agony before going silent. One Andromedon fell to the ground, joints on the armor ripped apart from sustained fire. The tank that was on the back of the last Andromedon exploded, and blew the top part of the helmet open, also killing the alien inside instantly.

The Resistance soldiers quickly pulled out grenades and threw them towards the damaged Andromedons, each one a perfect throw that landed in the cockpits of the suits themselves, frying the control systems before the AI could take over. Half a dozen soldiers sustained fire on the downed Andromedon, even as it crawled towards them, its legs destroyed.

But eventually the helmet broke, a grenade was tossed, and it crawled no longer.

There was silence, even as adrenaline pumped through her body.

What the hell was _that_?

She’d never felt like that, not at all during her time as a soldier, or anytime else for that matter. It had to have been the Chronicler. But even then she wasn’t sure. She’d heard some of the soldiers describe what it was like to be under the influence of Patricia, but this seemed far more intense and effective than what she’d been told.

She clicked her earpiece. “What’s the status of the teams? Casualties?”

The man on the other end actually sounded stunned. _“Status is…ah, good, we did it. Teams are getting the civilians out now. We barely took any casualties. The aliens were seriously not expecting us. I’m wondering if these were a defective batch.”_

She breathed a sigh of relief, and looked around as if she expected the Chronicler to appear out of nowhere.  She hadn’t been sure what to expect but…he’d turned a small guerilla army of Humans with gauss weapons into a force capable to taking an alien-controlled town with almost no casualties.

Abby almost wondered if he could match Patricia in simple power.

_Depends on the circumstances, Agent Gertrude, Patricia is powerful in her own right, but she does not understand subtlety like I do._

Abby wasn’t even particularly mad at him entering her mind again. _I don’t suppose you could do that again?_

She could swear she heard him laughing in her mind. _Of course, Agent Gertrude. We both want the aliens off this world, after all._

Abby found herself nodding along. If for no other reason than she didn’t want to antagonize him.

Anyone this powerful had to be treated carefully.

Doubly so if they could read your mind.

She just hoped he wasn’t paying attention _all_ the time.

***

_Kabul, Afghanistan_

When Oliver had joined up with XCOM, he had been expecting to fight aliens.

Clearly, that was no longer the case. And it made him uncomfortable.

He knew full well that the Middle East was, to be diplomatic, a mess. It needed to be reformed; it needed to be changed. But it seemed like the people in charge had a fundamental misunderstanding of _how_ the best way to go about doing that would be. Oliver didn’t consider himself a diplomat, but he was certain that pretty much any plan that he came up with was better than… _this_.

Far as he understood, this had originally been retribution from Israel in response to several Middle Eastern nations being linked to the assassination of many in their government. Assuming that the Israelis weren’t lying, it was far past the point of retribution regardless. This was now ADVENT deciding to get rid of the problem once and for all.

Except that wouldn’t solve the fucking problem.

The thing no one in ADVENT seemed to understand, or the Commander for that matter, was that the _people_ weren’t at fault here. The only ones at fault were the government, and yes, they should face some kind of punishment. But in reality, ADVENT was making no distinction between the two. Everyone was a potential enemy and Oliver knew that was only going to fester if ADVENT didn’t change their act right now.

Yes, the citizens were going to be furious at them, what a fucking shock. Who could have guessed they’d be angry and afraid of the people _literally_ invading their country.

Then there was the matter of this little mission, and for that matter, the extreme response against the militaries and leading government. The thing was, Oliver didn’t necessarily _disagree_ with it. To be completely honest, he had very little sympathy for the governments at this point. Yes, the war might be unfair; yes, it would be temporarily humiliating. But it did show him just how little they actually cared about their citizens.

Good leaders knew when they were defeated, and would surrender to protect their people. ADVENT, for all its faults, would honor deals. But since they hadn’t surrendered, they were going to come down _hard_ , and it was the people who were going to suffer. Ironic that the leaders who had brought this on themselves would be granted a relatively quick death, while the ones that lived would have to suffer under increased scrutiny for months.

Still, he wouldn’t have personally killed the leaders. It wasn’t as though they would pose a threat. But he could understand why ADVENT was done with them.

He looked around the skyranger at the XCOM team preparing to deploy. Most of them were newer recruits like him, with only a few who he knew were veterans. The Templar Chan was acting as the squad overseer, his Zweihander resting on his lap. The only other psions were Allison, who specialized in defense, although how much that would be needed was unknown, and Fatima, a telepath and one of the so-called “Furies”.

Such charming names XCOM had for these people.

It spoke to ADVENT and XCOM’s confidence that this mission only required a single XCOM squad and Lancer Team. Oliver hadn’t heard of them before, but now knew they were essentially ADVENT’s Special Forces. And, according to Antia, one of the Americans in the squad, the Lancers were all as genetically modified as much as some XCOM soldiers.

They weren’t given a choice it seemed.

 _“Heads up,”_ Burning Sky informed them. _“Coming in for a landing. Looks like the Lancers have made their entrance.”_

Saar Aaron whistled, her voice almost excited. “Not wasting time, are they?”

“Everyone up!” Chan ordered, standing up and moving to the skyranger exit, even as the aircraft dipped. “Our orders are clear: Assist the Lancers in taking the capital, and execute the ruling government. No prisoners. Clear?”

 _“Yes, Overseer!”_ Was the affirmative.

Chan raised his Zweihander as the ramp descended. “Then deploy!”

All of them charged out into the sandy outskirts of the city. Burning Sky had been right, the Lancers had cleaned up nicely and Oliver got his first good look at them.

He recognized the armor design; it was from an Israeli prototype that had appeared a while ago. The armor itself had clearly been inspired by generation-2 XCOM armor, or whatever the design had been called before the Aegis iteration, but the helmet had a domed top, and was oddly reflective, with no visible place where the eyes or nose should go.

The other thing about the armor was that it was completely pitch black. No identifying marks or badges were on the armor, and the interesting thing was that many of these soldiers weren’t carrying guns. Some were carrying melee weapons; longswords, maces, and some of those Peacekeeper stun batons, set to lethal mode.

Someone had clearly been inspired by the Templars.

Even their weapons were pitch-black. It was strange seeing swords and other medieval weapons with shining black blades, and laser weapons that didn’t give any indication what they were. Several carried gauss rifles, but Oliver could see more were using pulse laser weapons.

And they were currently in the process of slaughtering the Afghan soldiers guarding the city outside. They were laughing off bullets, and cutting and shooting through them like they were toys. One Lancer cut through three soldiers with her sword within a few seconds, finishing each one off with a stab to the heart.

Two more Lancers were carving a group of six soldiers to pieces with their laser rifles, dismembering and decapitating at will. It was morbidly fascinating and efficient to watch. Fatima extended a hand as she walked, twisted her palm until it was facing the sky and closed it into a fist. The remaining soldiers suddenly clutched their ears as if they heard some loud noise.

All of them were quickly finished off by the Lancers.

Oliver did a quick count: There were twelve Lancers, and there were at least sixty Afghan soldiers lying dead on the sand. One of the Lancers, holding a laser rifle, walked up. “Welcome to the party, XCOM.”

“A pleasure,” Chan answered, resting the blade of his sword against his shoulder. “Although you could have saved some for us. Not fair if you have all the fun.”

“Trust me,” the man jabbed a thumb in the direction of the city. “There’s plenty more where they came from. I’ve got a few more teams pushing at them from other entrances. We actually caught a group of officials trying to sneak out earlier. A few less to deal with now.”

“No attempts of surrender?” Fatima asked curiously.

“None so far,” he confirmed. “Not really surprising. Not sure how many of these guys speak English. Anyway, ready to get going?”

“When you are,” Chan nodded.

“Overseer, if I may make a suggestion?” Fatima interrupted, raising a hand. At his nod, she continued. “If it makes it easier, I will remain out here and concentrate. I will be more effective utilizing my abilities here than in the field.”

The Lancer cocked his helmet at her. “Who are you?”

“Fatima,” she answered. “XCOM Psion, telepath.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Up to you, Overseer, but I’m inclined to agree with her. A telepath is a damn powerful asset to have here.”

“Then do it,” Chan instructed. “Everyone else, let’s move in!”

And with that, the team of XCOM and Lancer forces entered the city. Oliver could definitely tell already that this was not exactly a prosperous nation. The houses were old, chipped and falling apart, and he glimpsed some moving shapes inside through broken windows. Good, the civilians needed to stay out of this.

They rounded a corner and suddenly found themselves facing a small Afghan army of at least thirty soldiers, all in cover and even manning some mounted guns. At a shout all of them opened fire, and the rattling of machine-gun fire drowned out everything else.

The Lancers responded by charging forward, Chan leading the charge, now flaring with psionic energy; purple flames encircling his Zweihander. The rest of the soldiers fell to one knee or ducked into cover and returned fire. A purple shield was thrown up between them and the Afghan soldiers, clearly from Allison whose raised hand was wreathed in energy, which dissipated when she dissolved the shield once they were in position.

By the time Oliver had even lined up a shot, the Lancers and Chan had pretty much destroyed the opposing soldiers. They were woefully unprepared for attacks at close range and suffered getting their limbs chopped off or skulls bashed in from the Lancers and Templar. One screamed in agony as one Lancer stabbed him with a lethal stun baton, and two didn’t have any time to react as Chan decapitated them with a single swipe of his Zweihander.

“This is completely ridiculous,” Min-Su Song, another newer soldier muttered. “At least they could _try_ and put up a fight.”

Oliver didn’t know if that was something they should be _hoping_ for, but it was laughable how utterly invincible they were here. China was going to be more freaked out than they probably already were once word got to them of what had happened.

With the soldiers dead, the Lancers and XCOM advanced deeper into the city, and Fatima made her presence known via each soldier they came across. They were curled up on the ground, clutching their ears, muttering to themselves or screaming as the case went. All of them were executed with single shots to the head.

Oliver found it surreal walking through streets of soldiers just lying on the ground, driven down by such pain and misery that wouldn’t end. He shivered. What those psions could do now scared him. They were people, but they weren’t like other Humans. No one who could do something like this was _normal_.

It was a good thing she was on their side.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” Saar muttered to herself. “Good job Fatima.”

Up ahead was the Presidential Palace, the home to the current President and staff. The National Assembly was where the legislature was, and Oliver knew the other Lancer teams were converging on that specific location. Although at this time, he would expect any legislators to be in their homes or trying to flee.

He wished them good luck.

The guards were similarly debilitated, and were executed quickly. Oliver wondered if everyone inside was similarly affected, and the moment they entered the Palace itself, he got his answer. There were people strewn all around, men and women of all classes and positions lying on the ground, crying, gasping and yelling in their language, likely begging for some release from the torment.

Chills ran up his spine as he listened to the voices, not needing to comprehend the words to understand what they wanted. At a gesture from Chan, XCOM opened fire on those on the ground, bringing them some final solace.

Then they proceeded upward, and did the same to any they came across. The Lancers refrained from overly painful deaths with their melee weapons, but did pull out pistols and execute all those they came across. All of them were silent as they carried out the grim task of execution. Even Saar and Min-Su, who’d complained about it being too easy, were quiet as they shot what essentially amounted to defenseless people.

Each room they swept, each floor cleared. Oliver didn’t even know if they’d actually killed the President yet. He wasn’t sure he would stand out from the other bodies, and in the end, it didn’t matter much.

Everyone in the building was going to die, and Oliver didn’t quite care anymore if one got out alive. If ADVENT wanted to make a statement, they had made it today. None of them would forget this day for the rest of their lives.

And briefly, very briefly, as they shot helpless men and women alike, Oliver wondered not if he was doing the right thing, but if he was on the right side.

This was nothing compared to the aliens, surely. But there had to be a better way to unite humanity than this.

***

_Bolivia Peacekeeper Outpost_

“Celebration?”

Jaylin looked up at Leon bringing her a glass filled with some kind of drink. “For what?” She asked. “And more importantly, what is that?”

He took a sip from his own glass. “This, Jaylin, is the local alcoholic beverage. I don’t remember the name, but it is exquisite. We’re off-duty now, so why not?”

She smirked and took the glass. “And what’s the occasion?”

“Well, essentially, the ‘war’, if would could call it that, is essentially over,” Leon explained satisfactorily. “So pretty much, we did our job, and we’ll probably be moved somewhere else. Not much use for Riot Control in a docile population.”

“Huh,” Jaylin said, taking a tentative sip from that glass. It was…interesting for sure. She didn’t usually drink unfamiliar beverages, but this wasn’t bad. Very tangy. “The people here were certainly subdued easily.”

“That’s if you buy the main story,” Leon amended knowingly. “I’m guessing it’s more of a propaganda thing than anything else. People here are still angry, but they aren’t going to do anything stupid, hopefully. They’ll calm down once some kind of normalcy has been restored. Now that Brazil has control of these countries, it should help normalize things.”

“Hopefully,” Jaylin nodded, taking another sip. “I’m just wondering where we’ll get sent next.”

“The goddamn Middle East,” Samantha interrupted, marching over without introduction, a different drink in her own hand. “You guys blind or something?”

Jaylin didn’t take offense. Samantha had a very…abrasive personality, and didn’t always mean the insults she said. Or at least meant them in sort of an endearing way. Leon seemed to find it funny. “Well, considering we’ve been on guard the past six hours, no,” he answered with a grin. “So do enlighten us, since you clearly want to.”

“Stop treating this as a joke,” she almost snarled. “ADVENT just wiped out the governments of Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan and Pakistan _at once_. _And_ they took back that city in Japan using some kind of soldiers from Hell, and reestablished lines with Portland.”

Leon almost spat his drink out. “The fuck?!”

Jaylin was equally stunned. “How? How did they do that _at the same time_?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Samantha answered, exasperated. “But XCOM was involved. My guess is that they told ADVENT that the war was wasting time and to end it. Word is that they were heavily involved.”

“Back up,” Leon said, raising a hand. “What was that about ‘soldiers from hell’?”

Samantha took a long drink, and set it down at the table with a thud. “Well! Apparently these new hell soldiers have flamethrowers that shoot fire hot enough to melt _Andromedons_. ADVENT calls them _‘Purifiers’,_ like this is some kind of witch hunt.”

Jaylin wondered just how tipsy Samantha was right now. “Sure, Samantha,” she placated. “Perhaps it melted the buildings they were in as well.” It sounded just as plausible. As nice as something like that would be, she was pretty sure Samantha had misread something, which in her state, didn’t really mean much.

“Oh, I think it actually _did_ ,” she clarified, her eyes widening. “Some of the footage released is _amazing_.”

“Perhaps we should go back to the fact that ADVENT just ended the war with the Middle East,” Jaylin redirected. “That’s going to seriously improve the war effort.”

“And our jobs are going to be _so_ much fun,” Leon said sarcastically. “I have a feeling terrorism is going to make a comeback. Somehow I don’t think the people are going to be happy to see us.”

“Well, too bad,” Samantha quipped. “About time someone brought some _actual_ order to that place. Maybe with the governments dead, some progress can actually be made.”

“Man, people are going to be shocked,” Leon said in an exaggerated voice. “Women driving in Saudi Arabia? Can you imagine such a thing?”

They all shared a laugh at that.

“Well, I’m going to get out of this armor,” Leon said. “Makes us look all intimidating, but it’s a bit heavy after a few hours.”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” Jaylin nodded, grabbing her helmet. “But I’m getting some sleep after this.”

“What the hell, I’ll come along,” Samantha said, trotting along beside them, noticeably smaller since she was out of her armor. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Jaylin shook her head, and smiled, while opening the door and they stepped out into the base courtyard. There were still plenty of Peacekeepers on and training, even this late in the evening. She nodded to some of the guards, and glanced down to adjust the stun baton on her belt. “So a question,” Samantha began. “Since you’re-“

A shot rang out and Samantha jerked back and fell to the ground, a red hole directly in her forehead, her mouth still open mid-speech. “Sniper!” Jaylin yelled, throwing her helmet on and glancing frantically around, before looking back at Samantha, who she could see was clearly dead. It was a perfect headshot; she’d probably died instantly.

More shots rang out, and she looked around for the source. Another yell of pain and she saw two Peacekeeper guards fall to the ground. Jaylin raised her arm and established her riot shield. It could take ballistic fire and even some gauss shots. From that mild safety, she actually glimpsed a figure moving around the base, ducking behind crates and armories.

She couldn’t make out the gender, but they were definitely wearing some kind of hooded cloak, and it was ruddy and brown, tints of green were also present, perhaps for camouflage. “On your six!” Leon yelled, and she spun around and saw another one of the figures, raising their rifle at them. Under the hood she saw it was wearing some kind of mask, one with yellow lights for eyes, and it looked like it was some kind of gas mask.

It fired and her riot shield cracked, but absorbed the shot. It immediately dashed away once the shot missed, and both she and Leon fired at the escaping figure, even as more Peacekeepers were running out to defend the base which was now under attack.

“Where the hell are they?!” Leon yelled as they stood back to back, as more shots seemed to come out of nowhere, hitting Peacekeepers from odd angles and velocities. The good news was that they weren’t outright killing them anymore, but they were causing damage and they kept vanishing and reappearing like ghosts.

But the tide was now turning as more and more showed up. Finally the shooting seemed to stop, yet they didn’t have any bodies to show for it, just the corpses of their friends and comrades.

“Is that it?” Leon asked cautiously. “What the-“

Several different explosions cut off whatever he was going to say, as almost every single vehicle they had suddenly exploded in a barrage of rubber and shrapnel. The fuel depot also went up in a massive orange explosion. Jaylin had fallen to one knee to steady herself, riot shield still up and looking around for any sign of a renewed attack as the smoke began to clear.

The base courtyard was now riddled with flaming metal and rubber, the smell of smoke and burning fuel filled the air, and now that things were quieting down, the yells and screams of injured Peacekeepers became audible. Other Peacekeepers were now running to help provide medical assistance and put out fires.

“Terrorists.” Jaylin spat.

“Fuck,” Leon muttered, as he knelt down and closed Samantha’s eyes. “I have a feeling we’ll still be here for a while. This can’t be tolerated.”

“Agreed,” Jaylin stated, retracting her riot shield. “We won’t let this stand. Come on, let’s go help them.” And they rushed forward to help put out the fires, all under the watchful eyes of the shadows in the distance.

***

_Forward Observation Station, Mars Orbit_

Caelior, was, to put it mildly, displeased.

The Battlemaster was as well, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. He was rather impressed XCOM and ADVENT had managed to put a comprehensive plan together in so little time. He supposed this escalation was his fault, as XCOM likely felt they had little choice if they wanted to survive. Still, not only had ADVENT managed to win their little war in the Middle East, but also push the Collective completely off Japan, reestablish connections to Portland, and there had even been a town in Australia liberated.

All problems. Portland wasn’t unexpected, and neither was Japan, to an extent. But Australia being compromised this badly was a problem Caelior had neglected, and the Battlemaster knew it would only get worse the longer it was allowed to fester.

“What should I do?” Caelior finally asked.

The Battlemaster was, admittedly, surprised. He was expecting a rant from Caelior, a tirade promising fire and vengeance. Not a request for advice.

Perhaps he _had_ been listening after all.

“What would you do, first?” He asked, curious what the young Ethereal was thinking.

“I want to burn Japan to the ground,” Caelior hissed, the air around him vibrating as his anger manifested. “I want to tear ADVENT apart piece by piece for this defeat. I want to flatten Sydney as punishment for their continued defiance. This is what I _want_ to do, Battlemaster, but I do not think it is the _right_ thing to do. I am too angry to make a rational decision.”

The Battlemaster nodded approvingly. “You are learning, good. You are right. This should not be tolerated, yet you must understand this comes with war. The enemy will retaliate, and sometimes you will lose. It does not matter how primitive or inferior you think they are, they can surprise you, especially the Humans.”

He paused. “You have been lax in Australian security. The resistance must be eliminated, and you have failed to adapt. I have not intervened yet, but I feel that if you do not make adjustments, I will have to. This is not something you can solve with armies, but with the Zararch, the Special Operators and other Vitakara units. Andromedons and Mutons are ill-suited to the task of fighting a guerilla force. My suggestion is to work with the Zar’Chon. He is an expert on these matters, and will be able to assist in solving your problems there. As for Japan…”

The Battlemaster appraised the Ethereal before him. “The Humans believe I am the worst they can face. That perception should change. You are more powerful than me, and the time to hide is over. The Humans believe they have won now. Tear down their victory in front of them. Attack Japan personally, exact your revenge on the Humans. Remind ADVENT and XCOM that they are inferior to us, regardless of what the traitor Aegis provides them.”

“Then that is what I will do,” Caelior nodded, his voice filled with venom. “But I will not go in without a plan. I learned from my last failure. Their… _additions_ should be taken into account. But their armies will not be able to stop me, not this time.”

A haptic map of Japan appeared, and Caelior began appraising it, already calling up unit figures to simulate strategies. “Japan will fall once more, and the Humans will know my power.”

Dramatic, but he had spirit. The Battlemaster watched with approval as the young Ethereal began working on the plan to assault Japan, with him providing advice when asked. He almost felt sorry for the Humans, but then again, he had to figure out how to deal with Portland being secured.

These new flame units were of a potential concern, even to him. He would have to solve that before entering the field again. ADVENT was stepping up their game, and now he must respond in kind.

***

_Switzerland, ADVENT Command_

It was done.

Saudia leaned back before her computer and let out a breath. Everything had gone perfectly, or as perfect as could be expected. The Middle East was secured, Japan was secured, the Australian town had been liberated, and Portland was reinforced. She could not have imagined a more perfect outcome to this operation.

There would be challenges ahead. The Middle East, even if it was under ADVENT control, was going to have to be significantly reformed for any hope of progress to be made. It would likely take years at a minimum, but there was now actual hope that it was possible.

The more important thing was that a good chunk of the ADVENT Military was now ready to be deployed against the aliens. The Peacekeepers could secure the Middle East, and any terrorist threats that popped up in response, and she had no doubt they would.

The Purifiers had performed beyond expectations, even if they _had_ rendered the city uninhabitable for a few days. Still, it was a small price to pay for driving the aliens off Japan completely.

Now she had to think about retaliation. The aliens wouldn’t take these defeats lightly, and getting kicked off Japan in such a humiliating fashion would likely incite some kind of revenge. ADVENT had to be ready, and she suspected the Battlemaster would be making an appearance shortly. Nonetheless this was a major boon to the propaganda effort and general morale.

This showed the aliens _could_ be beaten, and that perception was powerful now.

Once the PRIEST Program was up and running, ADVENT wouldn’t have to rely on XCOM for this kind of crucial support.

Privately, she had realized just how lucky they were that the XCOM psions were actually on their side. Reading the reports of how Patricia had effectively taken out the government and an entire military compound single-handedly, and how Fatima had paralyzed the entire opposing army, or how the three psions in Japan had shrugged off plasma fire with their shield like nothing…yes, they were very lucky the psions were working with them.

The Commander had said he was refocusing his efforts away from his Manchurian Program, and after seeing this display…she was wondering if that was a really wise idea. XCOM only recruited from the best, and the best were decent, if xenophobic, people. They were largely reliable. ADVENT wouldn’t have that luxury. Out of all the people in the world, even now, there would be some who used psionics for their own gain.

Which would be a problem.

She’d have to speak to him about that, since she agreed that something needed to be done to keep them in check.

But right now, she needed to make sure another problem was at least being taken care of before she could relax and enjoy her victory. The Middle East had been captured, and for the first time in a long time, it was… _stable_. For now at least. However, that was the easy part. Now they had to not only modernize the nations, but also undo decades of division, hate, and destructive religious influences.

Not exactly a problem suitable in the midst of an alien invasion. If there _wasn’t_ an alien invasion it would be a challenge. _With_ an alien invasion it was going to be a nightmare to do correctly. Yet this was going to be the largest reformation in Human history, so there could be few mistakes, if any. Despite knowing quite a bit about the region, she knew she wasn’t suited to solving its problems, and while she was sure Stein or Zara would have preferred they just lock down the area with Peacekeepers until the war was decided one way or another, that was not solving the problem.

The Middle East had resources, and more importantly, people. They had engineers, scientists and managers. They had the potential to be productive citizens of ADVENT, although she supposed that right now they would not exactly be keen on such an offer. That would have to be changed, and the better ways she could see to dispel that notion would be to give them a problem to solve, and integrate them fully into ADVENT.

Luckily, there was someone that Saudia felt confident entrusting with such an enormous task, and she should be arriving right now. Her office door chimed, and Saudia pressed a button and it slid open and in walked a woman with pale skin and long blonde hair, dressed in an ADVENT uniform, carrying with her a tablet.

Karen Marshall, former Administrator of USAID, and now Head of the ADVENT Modernization and Development Agency. Saudia had found no better person for such a position, and as an extra bonus, Karen had been heavily involved in Middle Eastern aid and development before being promoted to Administrator of USAID.

If anyone knew how to fix the problems there, it would be her.

“Chancellor,” she greeted, with an extended hand as Saudia approached her. “Good to hear it’s all over.”

“For now, anyway,” Saudia answered, as she accepted the outstretched hand. “But thank you for coming so quickly.”

Karen gave a small smile. “Chancellor, I’ve spent a good portion of my life hoping for the day to have this opportunity, I’m not going to miss it even if it’s at an obscene hour of the morning.”

“You do believe it can be done even during the invasion?” Saudia asked. “I understand it isn’t an ideal time.”

“Not ideal, but not impossible,” Karen negated with a wave, opening up her tablet. “As it happens, it’s for the best. Peacekeepers will suffice for any law enforcement needed. The last thing these people need to see are more soldiers.” She paused. “Admittedly, the Peacekeepers don’t look much different, but it’s all in how it’s presented.”

She gestured her over. “So, Chancellor, the first thing to establish is boundaries. Obviously these nations can’t govern themselves now, and I doubt you want the borders staying the same. So for the moment, here are the current territories drawn up.” Saudia looked down as Karen continued.

“Israel is taking the countries of Syria, Lebanon and Jordan,” Karen said, pointing at the respective portions of the map. “They will be working with me in reorganizing the countries, although they will all be under the territory of Israel now. This was apparently decided once they joined ADVENT, and they don’t want to give up their new territories.”

Saudia nodded. “It seemed fair. Israel has been a consistent ally since the beginning, and this seemed like a fair trade for their assistance.”

“I don’t begrudge them,” Karen said. “And the only other change in territory is Pakistan returning to Indian control. There will be…difficulties…in the transition, but I’m also going to be working with India to make the transition workable. However, India seems to have a good grasp on what needs to be done.”

She moved towards the heart of the Middle East. “Now, the remaining countries should be divided up a bit differently. At this point, I’ve divided them into two sections; the Eastern Arab States which consists of Iran, Turkmenistan, and Afghanistan. Then the Western Arab States will consist of Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Bahrain and the United Arab Emirates.”

Saudia nodded. “The division makes sense from a geographical perspective. I assume the countries will currently take the form of States?”

“That I have not decided yet,” Karen admitted. “At this current point, it is going to be better to work on a city-by-city basis, and once we have actual functioning governments, we can discuss if original borders should be restored or altered. I’m unsure how familiar you are with the region, Chancellor, but not all Arabic countries are the same, even within the same one, there can be multiple cultures and lifestyles. Some may be suited for a territory of their own, or joining with a nation of a similar culture.”

Saudi frowned. “Are you certain you are not overcomplicating this?”

“If anything, I’m oversimplifying it,” Karen sighed. “Chancellor, if I may, I don’t believe you understand just how large a project this will be. What do you estimate the timeframe of completion will be?”

“In an alien war?” Saudia paused. “A minimum of five years.”

Karen let out a laugh. “Chancellor, try _twenty_.”

Saudia’s frown turned deeper. “That seems excessively long.”

Karen rubbed her head. “You said you wanted to do this right? Well, this is what it will take. If you haven’t figured it out before, the Middle East is a mess, which I will add, was not helped by this war. Your decision to completely wipe out the ruling governments, tactical as it was, has alone set us back several years.”

She tapped her tablet. “That being said, it may be for the best. We’re starting from scratch here, and you have to understand, Chancellor, that they can’t simply be turned into productive ADVENT states overnight. Some of these countries don’t have democracies, or they are so corrupt they might as well not have governments at all. And no, it’s not as simple as establishing a democracy and going with it. These people _don’t trust_ those in power, or have been conditioned to not know any other way, and the fact that ADVENT is seen as a predominantly Western power doesn’t help here.”

She took a breath. “You have to _change_ their mindsets, Chancellor. You can’t just give them the tools for success without showing them how to use them. It’s like giving a gun to someone who doesn’t know how to use it and telling him to defend himself with it. Sure, he _might_ figure it out and save himself, but he just as easily might hurt himself and make it more difficult in the long run.”

Saudia was not expecting to essentially be rebuked here, though took it in stride. “In that case…what is your plan?”

“For the current plan, ADVENT will control all matters at a national level,” Karen said. “None of the countries are capable of doing such, and in the final phases, they will transition to a fully-fledged nation state. But for now, the most important thing is _education_. The rural areas especially have uneducated populations, and even the cities have had their perceptions warped by the former governments in power, as well as Islam. That has to be undone, and that is accomplished by proper schools for the children, and classes for adults.”

Karen sighed. “This is without mentioning that all the negative perceptions they have of ADVENT need to be undone. A lot of damage was done due to your overzealous Peacekeepers and…military strategy, no offense intended, but you need to understand those decisions have consequences here. This can only be undone by ADVENT helping them rebuild, and more importantly, modernize. Buildings need to be brought up to code, there needs to be reliable utilities, electricity, and food supplies. This applies more to the rural areas than capitals and cities, with perhaps the exception of countries like Afghanistan or Iraq.”

Saudia didn’t exactly agree that the so-called ‘overzealous’ Peacekeepers were entirely a bad thing, but Karen was not a military strategist, and far more empathetic than she was, so she refrained from saying anything. “And what of the government?”

“They need to be led by their own,” Karen said immediately, nodding to herself in emphasis as she looked down at her tablet. “I’m rather impressed the Commander didn’t execute the defecting Saudi Royal. That is more of a boon to us than you know. He will be instrumental in changing Saudi Arabia for the better. At this point, they will be far more willing to listen to someone who looks like them, and better yet, someone they recognize, than one of us. We simply need to identify leaders who will work with us to make this possible.”

“Good,” Saudia said. “Anything else?”

“While you would no doubt like to see their culture completely eradicated, I would advise against that,” Karen cautioned. “Much of that perception is due to the Islamic influence that’s permeated the countries. I do agree that it should be removed, but there are other aspects we should not ignore. We just need to emphasize the positive aspects and negate the negative ones. It will give them both a sense of independence from other ADVENT nations, and give them pride in their country. We should not force them to change important aspects of who they are for no reason other than that you feel your way is superior.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “Fair enough. If their so-called ‘culture’ is not a detriment to ADVENT, then I see no reason to change it. But you will work with Stein to make sure that is the case. As much as you know the region, Stein knows security and will be more unbiased than you when it comes to that. You see people, she will see vulnerabilities. She might not always be right, but I will not compromise the security of ADVENT because we wanted to appease some nations.”

Karen gave a nod. “Understood, Chancellor. But I’m well aware of the policy, you can trust I’ll keep it in mind. Is there anything else?”

“No,” Saudia shook her head. “I believe you covered everything important, and I will ensure you will have what you need to see this accomplished.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Karen answered, inclining her head. “I’m looking forward to starting.”

“As am I,” Saudia agreed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Karen chuckled. “I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

***

_Nakashibetsu, Japan_

Duri awoke to the sound of klaxons blaring.

He wiped his eyes and stared dumbfounded at the door, hoping against hope that it didn’t mean that they were under _attack._ It had been mere _days_ since they drove the aliens off Japan.

They couldn’t be back _already_?

Right?

He quickly woke everyone up, although the klaxon had already done that for him, and they all got armored up, in various stages of disbelief. Duri had expected the aliens to attack sometime again, but this was supposed to drive them off for a while. It wasn’t actually supposed to be a quick retaliation. They were _not_ prepared for this.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Cara said as she put on her helmet. “Anyone else?”

“Understatement of the week,” Kang said grimly. “I guess we might have pissed off the aliens a little too much this time.”

“We should have guessed fire was their weakness,” Johan said lightly. “I really hope we still have some of those Purifiers around.”

“Purifiers aren’t what’s needed,” Duri shook his head. “We need those psions.”

“Yes,” Beatriz said, checking her sniper rifle. “XCOM better be here, otherwise I think that this time, the aliens aren’t going to be beaten so easily.”

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

SECTION 8: ADVENT Military

Subsection 8.4: Directive

 **Overview:** The ADVENT Military performs two major functions: To defend ADVENT and its citizens from military threats of all types, and to terminate those in opposition to ADVENT by any means necessary. The ADVENT Military must follow these two functions without fail to achieve a safe and secure society.

 **Military Strategy and Limitations:** The ADVENT Military is not constrained in the methods they use to defeat enemies of the State. There are no limitations on utilizing experimental or dangerous technology and weaponry in combat, provided they have been proven to be effective and are a minimum risk for soldiers to use.

The ADVENT Military is authorized to strike areas with known civilian populations as long as one of the following conditions are met (Note that this doesn’t apply to Special Forces, Intelligence, or operations where no civilian casualties are expected):

  1. The civilian population has been notified that their region is a military target
  2. The civilian population is actively harboring or aiding the military target in question
  3. The mission is time sensitive with a time window of twelve hours or less



ADVENT Military Officers have the freedom to construct their strategy as they feel is appropriate. Whenever possible, civilian casualties should be reduced, but if necessary, there are guidelines in place to provide additional options.

 **Enemy Personnel:** There is no requirement to accept the surrender of enemy combatants during combat. Surrender must only be upheld if negotiated with respective enemy Officials beforehand. ADVENT is under no obligation to provide additional services or rights to enemy personnel and reserves the right to treat them as needed. Note that specific directions can be given by ADVENT Officers.

 **Enemy Governments:** Governments must be offered a surrender twice: Once at the start of the recognized conflict, and once when the capital or center of government is marked as a military target. Other surrender opportunities are not required, and are subject to be given at the discretion of the commanding officer.

If necessary, the execution of the entire governmental structure, or any specific elements or people is permitted. However, the government in question must have refused surrender at all opportunities. Note that if this is pursued, an additional offer of surrender must be given before the execution of such an operation.

 **Hostage Situations or Usage of Human Shields:** ADVENT does not negotiate with enemies of the state during combat, and under no circumstances is the presence of hostages and/or hostile forces using human shields to change mission objectives or parameters unless circumstances are extraneous. Attempts should be made to minimize civilian casualties, but it is not at the expense of the mission objectives.


	17. Little Storm

 

_Skyranger, En route to Osaka, Japan_

It felt like they had just fought aliens here.

Granted, Sierra hadn’t actually fought in the battle itself, but the First Battle of Japan had been the first true battle against the aliens, which in retrospect…huh, now that she thought about it, it _had_ been a while since that battle. Pretty much everything had gone downhill from there, and it was only a matter of time before they came back.

She supposed that that little surprise attack had made them a _little_ angry.

Still, assuming the aliens had learned from their mistakes last time, XCOM and ADVENT had also improved significantly. They were really only screwed if the Battlemaster himself showed up…which was extremely possible now that she thought about it. At the very least she was expecting him to put competent aliens in charge.

She sincerely hated how irritatingly _competent_ these aliens were sometimes.

Would it kill them to have _one_ alien who wasn’t a tactical genius? Although every said that the first attack on Japan was extremely amateur…

She was mentally rambling, knowing that the aliens were not going to play so nice this time. Which said a lot since she had never used that word to describe them. But XCOM had psions, a MEC, and the best soldiers in the world, even if she barely knew the names to some of them.

Carmelita was in charge, which Sierra was somewhat reassured by, even if she suspected the woman wasn’t entirely stable. She had a tendency to take extremely suicidal actions, but survived all of them. Crazy she may be, but she knew what she was doing, even if she went somewhat berserk once the shooting started.

Aarni, Antia, David, and Kiera were all newer soldiers, and she wasn’t entirely sure they’d actually seen combat against the aliens, but she _did_ know they had experience. Good enough. Much as people went on about how different the battlefield was…it really wasn’t. Instead of bullets, there was plasma; instead of enemy humans, there were enemy aliens. You got shot too many times, you died. People around you died. The enemies died. That stuff didn’t somehow change.

Then again, she was something of a veteran at this, and couldn’t really get hurt like she used to, so her perspective was probably flawed to an extent. The two psions, Fatima and Said, were the real heavy-hitters here. Sierra wasn’t sure how wise it was to send people who were married into the same combat zone, but it wasn’t as though they couldn’t take care of themselves.

Both were freakishly powerful from what she’d seen. Fatima was a mini-Patricia and Said was at least as strong as Iosif when it came to defense psionics. They were definitely going to make any aliens who were idiotic enough to attack think twice. Assuming they could even think that independently.

 _“Ten minutes out,”_ came the voice of Burning Sky. _“Initial reports are coming in. Osaka seems to be coming under attack from primarily Mutons. But there’s a lot of them.”_

“Copy that,” Carmelita grunted, her longsword resting between her legs, the metal tip touching the floor. “No way that’s their only surprise.”

Sierra agreed. “Probing for what we have?”

“Likely,” Carmelita nodded. “Or they intend for it to be a distraction.”

David crossed his arms. “A distraction from what? The entire country is locked down. I looked over the defensive specs for some of the cities, Tokyo is a fucking fortress. They’re not going to be able to launch surprise attacks _anywhere_.”

“Yes,” Fatima agreed. “David is right. This is likely a simple way to test ADVENT, and perhaps us. The aliens view Mutons as expendable, once they determine the apparent weaknesses of the defenses, they would launch a more dangerous wave specifically constructed to destroy it.”

“Assuming the aliens are smart enough to do that,” Aarni pointed out. “The last time they attacked, they didn’t have much in the way of tactics other than ‘throw as many soldiers at them as possible.’”

“We’re likely fighting the Battlemaster here,” Sierra reminded him, rolling her eyes. “He’s not an idiot. In general it’s better to assume that you’re dealing with geniuses instead of idiots. Makes things easier if they actually _are_ being commanded by idiots.”

“Speaking of which,” Kiera glanced over to Carmelita. “What’s the plan if the Battlemaster shows up?”

“I distract him while we wait for Purifier and MDU support,” Carmelita answered. “XCOM and ADVENT think the Purifiers might actually pose a threat to him. MDU’s might be able to keep up with his speed. But Aegis doesn’t think the Battlemaster will be on the field today. He thinks that the sudden appearance of the Purifiers will cause him to back off until he develops a way to kill them ‘safely.’ Who knows how long that will take?” Her right hand gripped the longsword. “Still, never hurts to be prepared.”

Sierra nodded. It seemed like a fair assessment. The Battlemaster, for all his power, did seem to take things very conservatively. It was almost paranoid in a way, but it was done in a methodical manner she once more found irritatingly smart. She supposed that when an entire _Empire_ of those things had died, you learned not to rely on invincibility.

 _“Approaching the LZ,”_ Burning Sky updated. _“Stand by for deployment.”_

The skyranger’s lights flashed to red and Carmelita stood, with the rest of them following suit as the skyranger began to dip, the sounds of combat already reaching their ears. Carmelita stood up front, Said beside her, his hand partially raised and rippling with psionic energy. Sierra stood right behind Carmelita, David beside her.

With a shudder, the skyranger settled on the ground, and the ramp slowly lowered to the ground, human and alien screams mingling in the distance, along with the familiar hissing of plasma and rhythmic pounding thuds of gauss weapons. A purple shield suddenly appeared before them, and Carmelita pointed her sword towards the fighting; reminiscent of the knights of old charging into war.

“Deploy!” She shouted, and they charged out into the raging firefight.

***

_Nakashibetsu, Japan_

“Prepare the lines!” Came the calls from behind him as ADVENT soldiers rushed all around him, filling up the erected barricades and reinforced buildings that still hadn’t fully recovered from the Purifier attack earlier. Duri could still make out the smell; he couldn’t place what it reminded him of, but the entire city smelled of it, and it was distracting.

“Beatriz, you in position?” He glanced back to the small two-story shop where she was situated on top of the roof, sniper rifle propped against the stone railing, ready for action.

 _“Ready as can be,”_ she answered, giving a thumbs up to him. _“Not much going on up here right now. Nothing in the distance either.”_

“Of course there isn’t anything yet,” Cara muttered to herself, hefting her autorifle. “Sensors start picking up stuff hours away. I don’t even know if that’ll be enough.”

“Do we even have anything major left here?” Kang asked, checking his rifle.

Duri nodded. “A lot of the MDU’s and Purifiers were immediately transferred to Tokyo, but we still have…” he paused. “Twenty-five MDU’s and forty Purifiers. That _isn’t_ counting that Destroyer out in the water, and the rest of the regular soldiers. Like _us_.”

 _“They better keep the Purifiers way the fuck back,”_ Beatriz commented over the comms. _“Those things are not front-line units_.”

“Really, where should they be then?” Cara pointed out. “They aren’t exactly artillery.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. _“Fair point. Let me amend that to saying that the Purifiers should be kept back until the battle is a little less..er, chaotic. Like when they could actually be sent out, burn a few aliens, and then pull back without as high a chance of getting shot right next to you.”_

“Well, in that case,” Cara nodded to herself. “I agree. I think the Corporal knows what he’s doing with them though. No point wasting them.”

“Are we getting psion support?” Johan asked, changing the subject. His tone indicated a frown under his helmet as he spoke. “I have a feeling we’ll need it.”

Cara snorted. “Please, name me a situation where we _wouldn’t_ need the purple demigods?”

Duri smiled under his helmet, and Kang stifled a chuckle. Still, a psion would be nice. Preferably an entire XCOM or Lancer squad. MDU’s were nice, but there weren’t enough to make him feel comfortable.

They had reinforced the city as best they could, considering the circumstances. The coast was mostly open beach, no cover whatsoever, and ADVENT had established lines much like the first time, at the edge of the city overlooking the beach. But this time they were being a bit cleverer. Mines had been placed throughout the entire beach, the ones furthest back, and the ones at the end under direct manual control in case the Andromedons tried any sort of shield tricks again. That, and there was the possibility of damaging the UFOs themselves.

Then there were some new turrets; recent ADVENT tech they’d been working on much like the MDU’s. They essentially were a black pillar of metal with a large laser weapon on the top, with a few panels around that to protect the inner workings. From the explanations he’d been given, they operated much like the MDU’s in that they were just as accurate and completely autonomous.

There were a dozen of those spread along the perimeter, and he knew there were a half-dozen more further in. ADVENT had also been sure to reinforce the interior of the city, in case the perimeter fell, so the army could have a secure place to fall back to. It was very elegantly planned, and Duri was grateful that at least someone was learning from the last time this place had fallen.

On top of all that, there was an entire Raven Squad and another plane which Cara had, quite excitedly, identified as a Warthog. According to Cara, it was the best thing they could have outside MDU’s, and it appeared to be an anti-tank _plane_ of all things, which he’d thought would be very difficult to pull off, but it seemed the Americans had every kind of combination available.

He’d been somewhat surprised to learn that these Warthogs actually hadn’t been upgraded to Gaussian tech, which he would have thought would have been a priority. He’d casually brought it up with Cara who’d laughed and showed him a picture first of the gun, and then the size of bullet fired. After that she’d shown him some videos of the plane demolishing actual buildings with a single volley.

He conceded that maybe they didn’t need a gauss upgrade quite yet

So, that was air, sea, and ground support covered. A well-fortified city, or as well fortified as could be expected. Purifiers which could turn the entire beach (or city) to glass if needed. MDU’s and their sister turrets which didn’t fuck around with anything. All in all…they were as prepared as they could possibly be for this attack.

But if they’d learned from their mistakes, would the aliens follow suit?

“What do you think they’ll send this time?” Kang asked, as the minutes passed. “More Andromedons?”

“Please yes,” Cara said. “Let them come, set up their little shield, then send the Purifiers to burn them to death. Or Mutons. I’d be alright with Mutons.”

“They _always_ send Mutons,” Johan muttered absentmindedly. “Well, almost always.”

“Realistically?” Duri paused. “A combination of air and heavy infantry units if they’re smart. Definitely the Floaters for harassment, basic Mutons for shock tactics, throw some Andromedons and Elites into the mix and you’d have a solid force we can beat. If they send any psions, Sectopods, or god forbid, the _Battlemaster_ , things aren’t so good.”

“It’s not the units,” Cara shook her head. “It’s how they’re used. Hopefully they’ll have the same idiot running the battle that did the last one here. I like it when they use the _‘throw everyone at them’_ strategy. Makes it much easier.”

 _“All soldiers, we have sighting of UFOs,”_ came the voice of the Colonel.

Duri quickly looked behind him. “Beatriz?”

 _“One second,”_ a pause. _“Lots of glints in the distance. Definitely transports. Ugh, there are UFO fighters with them. Air support might be tied up if that’s the case.”_

Duri looked back out into the horizon, and he also saw the shimmering glints in the distance. “How many?”

 _“Twenty, minimum,”_ was the answer. _“And…uh, there’s three more lines behind them.”_

“Sixty?” Johan asked incredulously. “For _this_?”

 _“Hold that thought,”_ Beatriz said, her voice wavering. _“Ok, the first twenty are still going forward. All the rest are holding back.”_

That made some measure of sense, there was only a limited amount of room on the beach, and too many soldiers would make it crowded. That was a small comfort, since there were twice that number of reinforcements following them. It was even worse if any of those transports had Gateways in them.

“Look at _that_.” Kang said in awe, and Duri squinted his eyes and focused onto the UFOs now clearly in view. Still small, but getting closer. But he immediately saw what Kang was talking about. “That doesn’t look like a transport.”

 _“No,”_ Beatriz agreed. _“It definitely doesn’t.”_

From what Duri could make out, it looked like the equivalent of a sideways teardrop, although with clear edges and lines on its sides. What immediately stood out was that the entire ship appeared to be transparent, or at least made out of a light-blue tinted substance. It reminded him of the Andromedon helmets and…the teardrop ship suddenly dipped and plunged into the ocean.

He blinked. “What was that?”

 _“Oh, that’s not good,”_ Beatriz breathed. _“I don’t know what that thing was, but there were Andromedons on that ship. Saw it plain as day. Going underwater isn’t an accident.”_

“We have subs, right?” Johan asked.

“Don’t know,” Duri said, looking towards the Destroyer which was now starting to fire up at the transports. “But that Destroyer needs to get out of there _now_ if we don’t.”

“Ready weapons!” Came the call from the front-line Officer, as the transports came ever closer.

Duri gripped his weapon, and steadied his aim towards the ocean, saying a quick prayer that all of them survived this battle.

But this time, he wasn’t sure they’d be so lucky.

***

_Osaka, Japan_

From a few minutes of hectic, dangerous, and chilling observation, Sierra knew that even if the aliens literally sent nothing but Mutons, this battle was _not_ going to be won easily. The heaviest fighting was taking place in the Osaka bay, with ADVENT holding the perimeter of most of the areas around the circular bay, but the aliens had landed on the far ends, as well as some of the docks and platforms in the water.

The transports had actually landed on them, and the Mutons were mostly hunkering inside the transports, and occasionally sending teams to brave the hailstorm of gauss bullets shot in their direction. But what was _actually_ bad news was that the island that was further back in the bay had clearly been taken over by aliens, and Sierra could clearly see at least a thousand marching forward into the city proper.

“Fatima! Take care of that island for us!” Carmelita demanded coldly, slowly appraising the situation herself as ADVENT soldiers ran past them to reinforce the front line.

“Overseer!”

They turned to see a green-tinted ADVENT Colonel dash up, flanked on either side by standard soldiers. “Colonel Chu, sir! Glad you could get here, we got hit harder-“

“So I see,” Carmelita interrupted, raising a hand. “Situation report.”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, audibly wincing as a building closer to the front lines crumbled. “Short version is that the aliens have control of Awaji, that island over there. Right now the transports on the docks are keeping a good portion of our soldiers occupied. Air support is currently limited, so we can’t rely on that. We can’t make a concerted effort to press forward, since the Mutons are actually being smart this time.”

He pointed to the docked UFOs. “They haven’t done much more than stick their heads out this whole time. Only Mutons, but they’re being led by someone smart. A _massive_ Muton force is going to hit Akashi, since the island connects.”

“Can’t you blow the bridge? Aarni asked, tilting his head.

“Bad move,” Sierra dismissed. “Should only be done as a last resort. That funnels the Mutons and makes it easier to kill them off.”

“Exactly,” Colonel Chu confirmed. “I’m not blowing the bridge until we’re sure they can’t hold. But there are going to be a lot of soldiers that die if they aren’t reinforced.”

“Understood,” Carmelita nodded. “You’ll have XCOM support. Gray Sky, drop off Kenta by Akashi. Order to reinforce.”

_“Copy, Overseer. Gray Sky out.”_

Carmelita looked back to the Colonel. “A Ballista-Class MEC is being sent to that position. Fatima, you’re going too.” At that Fatima dashed off towards one of the Humvees that was carrying soldiers to and from the battle, hailing it down. “She’s a telepath,” Carmelita explained. “If that’s where the largest threat is, she should be able to handle them.”

“Great!” Colonel Chu said, clearly relieved. “I’ll inform the Captains of the updated situation. What about the rest of you?”

“We’ll deal with the transports,” Carmelita answered, looking back to the shores of the fighting. “Two at a time. Sierra, David, Antia, you’re with me. Aarni, find a sniping position and take out any priority targets you see.” She pointed to the Colonel. “I want Aarni tapped into your lines. He’ll take out any specific targets you want, within reason.”

She looked to Said. “Take the rest and hit another transport. Everyone got it!”

“Yes, Overseer!” They shouted. Carmelita looked to the Colonel.

“Anything else we should be aware of?”

“There are transports hovering beyond the bay,” he answered, pointing in the distance. “I assume they’re reinforcements. If we keep holding them off, they’ll likely send them.”

“Understood,” Carmelita stated, gripping her sword tighter. “Move out!”

With that they split into their respective teams and charged forward. Sierra knew Antia and David would need to be a little more careful, since they didn’t have any genetic modification, while she had the Iron Skin, and Carmelita was _extensively_ modified. Still, the aliens were about to be in for a world of hurt in the very near future.

Green plasma streaked overhead once they reached the front lines; ADVENT soldiers were hunkering behind their black alloy barricades, while Gunners provided steady streams of suppressive fire, which barely seemed to do more than irritate the armored aliens. Sierra also saw that some of the Muton bodies, which she assumed were from failed charges, had been stacked on top of each other into something of a makeshift cover, bound together by what looked suspiciously like the stuff in symbiote grenades.

Huh. Clever.

Seemed to be working too, since even those makeshift Muton barricades were filled with soldiers, and were withstanding direct plasma blasts. “I’m going to distract them,” Carmelita muttered as they stepped onto the metal docks, cover few and far between. “Keep both of them alive. I’ll hold them until you get here.”

Sierra opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Carmelita jumped towards the open mouth of the transport, sword glistening in the morning light.

“What the fuck,” Antia said in disbelief.

Sierra heard surprised Muton grunts and the familiar sound of an alloy cannon. “Go forward! Now!” With the hail of plasma fire briefly stopped, the three of them charged through the winding docks, all of them hyperaware of just how exposed they were. But they finally got close enough to the transport and Antia and David slid into cover, while Sierra charged a bit further.

Carmelita had done a lot more than _distract_ the Mutons.

She alone had already taken half of the transport bay, and Sierra saw eviscerated, stabbed, and headless bodies of Mutons who’d tried to stop her. Carmelita was right now behind some alloy cover that had been erected in the interior of the UFO, firing away with her alloy cannon every few seconds, which had the effect of keeping the Mutons pinned in place.

Sierra made it to the first barrier in the transport, lined up her shot, and fired. The cyclic red laser bored into the head of a Muton, leaving a small hole behind and the massive alien collapsed to the ground. She repeated the same with the one next to it before it realized what was happening.

Two more shots took down another Muton, and Sierra glanced over to see David and Antia were both here now, and taking positions behind the second layer of interior defenses. Sierra leapt over her own and decided to try something a bit risky. “Carmelita!” She yelled. “Flank them!”

“My pleasure!” She yelled back, and charged toward the right flank while Sierra took the left, and their positions were quickly taken up by their backup. The Mutons were not expecting _another_ apparent suicidal charge forward and stepped back in surprise, before Sierra shot two of them in their unprotected faces, then pulled a small grenade and tossed it towards another one, ripping it apart.

Carmelita was far more brutal. She quickly executed two Mutons with alloy cannon shots to the face, turning their heads into mush, while a few seconds later she hooked the weapon to her waist, thrust out her left arm and that eerie stinger modification shot out like a cobra and directly into the eye of another Muton, burying itself deep while she pulled out her sword again and leapt towards two more Mutons, stabbing one directly in the face, and quickly repeating the same tactic with the other.

“Outsiders!” David called, and his and Antia’s fire immediately focused on them. Both had Pulse weapons, and they were quick enough to catch one Outsider by surprise, and the sudden influx of energy froze it, increasing the orange light inside the crystalline alien until it shattered.

The other two Outsiders were smarter and faster; ducking into cover immediately and firing on Sierra and Carmelita for all the good it would do them. One plasma bolt clipped her shoulder; scowling, she responded by raising her rifle and firing, forcing it to hide from the deadly laser.

Carmelita didn’t waste time with that, and simply jumped to the second level where the Outsiders were hunkering, landing beside one and unloading three full blasts of the alloy cannon into its face. Sierra quickly ran up the ramp to corner the second one, and the instant she had a sighting, she fired and shot directly into its leg, pinning it temporarily as Carmelita reloaded her weapon and stormed over, before repeating the same method of execution.

The area went relatively quiet, although the sounds of battle were still heard outsider. “Said, report!” Carmelita demanded. “We’ve taken this UFO.”

 _“Just a few Outsiders to deal with here,”_ was the immediate response. _“No injuries or anything. This’ll be taken care of soon.”_

“One down, seven to go?” David asked hopefully.

“Think it’s probably more than seven,” Carmelita grunted, motioning them to follow her back outside. “But essentially. Still, if this is all they’ve got this will be laughably easy.”

She paused. “Colonel, any updates?”

 _“Whatever your telepath is doing, it’s amazing,”_ was his answer. _“Don’t know what she’s done to the Mutons, but they’re pretty much killing themselves. That MEC is also picking up his fair share of kills and your sniper is softening up the transports for a counterattack. Air support is still tied up, but it’s much better.”_

“We’re moving to the next UFO,” Carmelita informed him, briefly checking her alloy cannon. “We’ll do this as many times as needed.”

_“Understood, I’m reorganizing our defenses to further assist.”_

“Time to take the next one,” Carmelita said, and they charged back out into the fray. Sierra was just waiting for the hammer to come down. Carmelita was right. If this was it, it would be laughable. But the aliens _never_ made things this easy, even if the same idiot _was_ in charge of this attack.

Since the Mutons still didn’t have helmets, she suspected he was.

Arrogant aliens.

***

_Nakashibetsu, Japan_

“Fire!” One of the Corporals yelled and all the Rocketeers, Kang included, fired at the approaching transports. Rockets sped towards the ships in streaks of white and orange light, impacting with brilliant explosions that sadly only seemed to be doing superficial damage at best. With gauss bullets bouncing off of them, the transports settled down, and a few moments later, the transports opened up and out came a horde of Mutons.

They were likely in straight lines before charging out, but those quickly deteriorated as the savage aliens roared and charged forward. These ones were wearing helmets, not stupidly exposed like the others. The helmets were the same green as their armor, but they thankfully didn’t seem to grant them more intelligence.

The first wave suddenly exploded as they triggered the mines, and the rest staggered to a stop in confusion, and some immediately fell to one knee and began firing at the ADVENT line, while others continued forward slowly, firing their plasma rifles; not even seeming to take into account the minefield they found themselves in.

Duri, Cara, and Johan all began firing their weapons at the encroaching horde, whose numbers at minimum matched their own, even if they had no concern for their own safety, and after a few minutes of battle, he realized that when the Mutons didn’t have such a blatant weakness…they were rather terrifying.

Cara unloaded an entire clip into one approaching Muton, but even as it bled ichor from its mangled chest, it still kept going, and was only killed when it stepped onto another mine. Johan and Duri managed to kill one by blowing away parts of its helmet, which was still fairly easy to target, since the alien made no attempt whatsoever to find cover.

 _“Shit, they have Grenadiers to the back,”_ Beatriz said urgently to him. _“I’ll try to take some out. But they’re coming now.”_

That was _not_ good. “Grenadiers!” He called to the other soldiers. “Watch for explosives!”

 _“MDU’s moving forward,”_ Corporal Williams’s voice suddenly interjected. _“Hold the line. We have plans for grenades.”_

“You’d better,” Cara sneered as she managed to down another Muton that was getting uncomfortably close. “Because they’re coming up now!”

Duri saw the aforementioned Muton Grenadiers coming forward now. In all respects they appeared to be identical to the Soldiers, except that they had a couple dozen plasma grenades strapped to their belts and across their back, as well as holding what looked to be some kind of grenade launcher. He’d heard of these, even if he hadn’t fought them yet.

 _“Snipers, target the exposed grenades,”_ Williams ordered. _“All Gunners, lay down immediate suppressive fire!”_

There was a chorus of unacknowledged affirmations, and all the Gunners began spraying the battlefield with thousands of gauss rounds in wide arcs. The front line of Mutons was instantly halted, and some raised their arms as the hail of rounds slammed into them, some puncturing vital organs and body parts.

Behind the main Muton line, several Grenadiers suddenly exploded in green flashes, presumably from the snipers hitting the grenades strapped to them. _“One down,”_ Beatriz said smugly. _“Only several hundred more.”_

“They’re getting ready to fire!” Another Officer called out.

The ADVENT Snipers fired again, as the regular soldiers, Rocketeers, and Officers picked up the suppressive tactic while the Gunners reloaded their weapons. A few more Grenadiers exploded from sniper fire, but the majority loaded their grenades, raised, then fired them at the ADVENT line. The green-tinted projectiles were in the dozens, and Duri didn’t see how all of them could be stopped.

The short answer was that he was right.

But it wasn’t nearly as devastating as it would have been otherwise.

The MDU’s raised their weapons up, and streaks of lasers shot into the sky, and it was suddenly filled with green bubbles of plasma that dissipated seconds later as the MDU’s and Turrets shot the grenades out of the sky when they entered their range. But it still didn’t get all of them. ADVENT soldiers jumped out of the way, or tried to flee the range of the grenades, but some just weren’t fast enough.

The plasma blew them apart, or incinerated them entirely depending on how close they were to it. Entire fortifications were suddenly nothing, and even a few MDU’s succumbed to the plasma grenades. More green explosions from the back as the Snipers continued taking them out, a few more volleys, and they would have this under control.

The Muton advance had been mostly stopped, as the Mutons refused to find any sort of cover, but they were now adapting to that in a rather morbid way. Knowing they didn’t have to worry about grazing shots or even getting directly hit unless it was in the face, they were taking the corpses of their dead and piling them on top of each other, creating a temporary, but effective means of cover.

 _“We’ve got air support,”_ Corporal Williams updated. _“Stand by for airstrike on concentrated Muton position. Officers, mark highest concentration of Muton forces.”_

“Understood!” Duri responded, and activated the green tracking laser on his rifle and aimed it where the Mutons were establishing a massive semi-circle of dead aliens, and beginning to return fire from it. “Locked!” He shouted as the green laser turned red. He saw the lines from other Officers who were also marking the area.

 _“Stand by for airstrike in five seconds,”_ a deep voice suddenly said. _“Targets marked.”_

Duri suddenly heard a sound that seemed to come from a buzzsaw or _really_ fast machine gun. Then out of nowhere thunderous streaks of white light rained down from the sky and cut the Muton concentration to pieces. Cara whooped as the plane that had fired the airstrike flew off into the distance for another round. “Fuck yes!”

He supposed that had been the Warthog she’d been so excited about.

Now he knew why.

The Muton forces were in complete disarray as the ones not ripped apart by the airstrike struggled to decide what to do next. _“Purifier forces, perform area denial,”_ Corporal Williams ordered and two Purifiers suddenly began walking forward, taking advantage of the lull in the Muton plasma fire to perform _area denial._

Duri could only hope things were going as well further up and down the beachhead, because this was a beautiful sight.

The Purifiers unleashed the white-hot cones of ClF3 towards the Muton fortifications, then swept them across as much of the beach as they were able to. The Mutons unfortunate enough to get caught in the blast panicked instantly, running around in circles, rolling on the ground to put out the fire, or worse, running into the water where they promptly exploded.

The fortification of Muton bodies was incinerated within minutes as Purifier fire swept over it, destroying the only defense on the beach. The sand underneath the fire was turned to glass that shattered and damaged the Mutons even more when they fell on it or set off more of the few mines that had remained untouched.

Duri’s lips curled into a grin. Perhaps it wasn’t hopeless after all.

Maybe they could win once more.

***

_Tokyo, Japan_

To Jamali’s surprise, there actually wasn’t any fighting going on in Tokyo.

Yet.

All of them exited the skyranger rather calmly, all things considered. They technically weren’t in Tokyo proper, but in one of the areas before it entered Tokyo Bay; Kawasaki he believed. But from what Jamali had seen already, the city would be able to withstand even the worst alien assault. There were, at a minimum, twenty-thousand ADVENT soldiers here alone, of all types.

That wasn’t counting the automated systems like MDU’s and turrets, which had been built throughout the entire area. Beyond the bay was also one of the massive US Carriers, a behemoth of the sea that was primed and ready for any conflict. Jamali also suspected that there were submarines also accompanying it.

Yet the aliens hadn’t attacked yet.

Interesting.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Allison muttered as a group of ADVENT soldiers walked up. Definitely an ADVENT Marshal by her coloring and shoulder cape that was over her right shoulder. She was flanked by six Colonels and Corporals, likely the main Commanders of this entire defense. The squad Overseer, Dael Young, a recent promotion, stepped forward. “Marshal Kilani, Overseer Young, XCOM.”

The Marshal put a fist over her heart in an approximate ADVENT salute. “Glad you’re here. Satellite footage and readings all indicate that we’re going to get hit hard, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“That’s why we’re here,” he nodded. “We have a Goliath getting dropped off in the city proper, and we’ll assist on fighting the front lines, wherever the fighting is the heaviest.” He motioned to Allison. “Both Psion Monder and I are defense specialists; Psion Mattis is a telepath. We’ll give extra protection and assistance when you need it.”

A nod from her. “Good. In the meantime the city is as prepared as I could make it. MDU’s, soldiers, Snipers, Gunners, Purifiers; all of them are situated and ready for whatever is coming. We’ve got the _USS Washington_ out beyond the bay, which will provide us with air and sea support, should we need it.”

“How much air support will you have?” Jona Mattis asked.

“Worst case scenario?” Marshal Kilani asked. “A small fleet. That isn’t including the American Warthogs that were brought in for anti-infantry and anti-tank support. Our Ravens are weaker than UFOs, but we can still shoot enough of them down to make a difference.”

“Don’t worry about them too much,” Jona tapped her head. “I picked up some tricks from Patricia. As long as they aren’t automated now, I should be able to take them over.”

“That’s good, but we’ll also need you on the ground,” Dael reminded her, before turning back to the Marshal. “In the meantime, where do you want us?”

“You’ll have two deployment helicopters for your own use,” she answered quickly. “In addition to your skyranger. You’re probably going to be moving around a lot, and I want you where we need you as quickly as possible. I’ve ordered them here-hold, new info.”

Jamali waited for a few seconds, and the Marshal’s voice suddenly turned confused. “What? Why?”

Well, that didn’t sound good. “Understood,” she finished grimly. “Good luck.” She looked back at them. “Change of plans. The large alien fleet we were worried about is going in completely different directions. Probably reinforcing other points of attack.”

“What?” Yasu and Sora, both XCOM soldiers of Japanese origin said at the same time. “Then we’re safe?” Sora finished, her voice hopeful.

“Not exactly,” Kilani corrected slowly, raising a hand. “There’s one UFO coming towards us. Small, seems to be the same class as the one used by the Battlemaster.”

Oh.

Jamali swallowed and exchanged looks with the rest of the XCOM soldiers. They were absolutely _not_ the right ones to face the Battlemaster. “I see,” Dael said slowly. “If it is the Battlemaster coming, get your soldiers out, and gather as many Purifiers as you can. Those may be the only things that could actually hurt him.”

“Agreed,” she said, motioning to one of the Colonels to give the orders. “Estimation is that it’s ten minutes out. I’m ordering two squads of Ravens to try and take it down, since it appears to be alone.”

“Is that a good idea?” Gyeong asked, stepping forward. “Isn’t the Battlemaster a telekinetic?”

“He’s dangerous, but not a telekinetic,” Allison interrupted, shaking her head. “At least not a true one. He can use it, but it’s not his skill. And even if he managed to take down one, that leaves seven more. Not sure how well it’ll work either, but it’s the best plan outside of relying on Purifiers.”

“Look!” One of the Corporals shouted, looking through his sniper rifle. “UFO coming.”

“Right on time,” Marshal Kilani nodded and the squads of Ravens immediately streaked overhead towards the faint glint in the distance. “Fire at will, Wing Officer.”

Jamali watched as the glint slowly got larger until it was clearly what he believed XCOM had dubbed an Overseer-class UFO. The metal was a duller grey, but it still seemed a duplicate of the UFO scouts and fighters. The first of the Ravens fired at the UFO, as did the guns on the Carrier from the ground.

Except the missiles suddenly froze in mid-air and then plummeted towards the sea. In retrospect, that might not have been too unexpected. Missiles were small, and even the Battlemaster could catch a half-dozen.

But what _did_ shock not just him, but all of them, was all of the Ravens suddenly freezing in the air, jets still pushing forward, and then their metal frames suddenly collapsing in on themselves like cheap foil. Jamali blinked. “Officer!” Kilani demanded. “Come in!”

Something must have finally ruptured, because one of the Ravens exploded, and the rest of the planes were slowly turned into crumpled balls of steel. At that point Jamali realized that the UFO had stopped and was hovering. He also noticed that despite the Carrier firing, it seemed there was zero damage being done to the craft.

He swallowed. “I don’t like this,” Maria Pena said softly. “Could the Battlemaster do that?”

The crumpled Ravens were suddenly released from the invisible hold on them, and fell into the water with a splash and something dropped out of the bottom of the UFO, and began speeding towards them.

“Oh, fuck,” the Sniper Corporal breathed in terror. “It’s an Ethereal.”

Jamali quickly zoomed in on his own rifle and his eyes widened as he confirmed what had been said. But it wasn’t an Ethereal that they knew, this was a completely new one. The helmet was almost identical to the one Aegis wore, if having a couple more curves, but the rest of the Ethereal was completely new.

He, because he assumed it was a he, wore a mix of the Ethereal robes and battle armor. It was as if the material was interwoven with the armor, which covered the chest and legs. While a material skirt of sorts fell behind the Ethereal’s legs, it still allowed the Ethereal to move forward freely, and the arms were covered by sleeves of a purple material, with the hands encased in black gloves.

The Ethereal was on what seemed to be a kind of hoverboard, which was just large enough for him, and no more. The boots seemed welded into it, and the Ethereal flew with a familiarity that indicated that this was not the first time it had been used. His arms were held loosely at his side, and the Ethereal approached as if it had all the time in the world until it was just over the entrance to the Tokyo Bay, in perfect view of XCOM.

The Ethereal was still very far away, but Jamali wasn’t sure that really mattered.

 _“Humans!”_ Jamali and the rest of the soldiers on the rooftop involuntarily shivered as the amplified and echoing voice that permeated the air long seconds after the last syllable was uttered. _“You have fought beyond what we could have predicted. You have scored victories, and killed hundreds of our soldiers. Your continued defiance is a testament to your will, although your intelligence has much to be desired.”_

Marshal Kilani didn’t really seem to like his monologue. “Fire!” She yelled, and the area was suddenly alight with the flashes of gauss rifles and the sound of automatic fire. The Ethereal didn’t seem perturbed, and simply lowered a hand out towards them, palm down and the gauss rounds suddenly froze inches before they actually hit him.

 _“Your time of insubordination is at an end,”_ the Ethereal continued. _“Today the world will see the futility of resisting us and our power. You will die at the hand of Caelior, Destroyer of the Immortals, and Wielder of the Maelstrom. Prepare or flee before the might of the Storm.”_

With that he thrust down another hand, and a visible wave appeared in the air and slammed down on several hundred ADVENT soldiers, all of whom were immediately crushed to the ground. He extended another hand to a nearby building filled with soldiers and ADVENT emplacements and Jamali watched in awe and terror as it shook and suddenly collapsed from waves of energy that crushed it from all sides.

“Jona! Get into its head!” Dael yelled as all of the soldiers started firing. “Commander-“

 _“You can’t fight Caelior where you are,”_ came the urgent response. _“Caelior will kill all of you at this range. Get back now and reconfigure a plan!”_

“Copy!” Dael confirmed, as Caelior swooped down to another ADVENT position and raised one hand, clenching it into a fist. The soldiers below him began screaming as their armor compressed and he crushed them into masses of flesh, armor, and bone. He threw another hand as six MDU’s were tossed into the water like toys, right before he turned his eye to the carrier in the background.

Allison saw it too. “Impossible,” she breathed. “He can’t do that…”

Impossible or not, Caelior was going to try, and with one hand extended to the USS Washington, he turned his palm up as psionic energy encased his body. He raised the arm.

And the Carrier began to rise.

Water poured off it by the hundreds of gallons, everything not bolted down also slid into the black water as the ship rose by inches, until it was five, then ten, then twenty feet above the ocean, and still rising. Throughout it all, Caelior hadn’t been neglecting the enemies on the ground. He shot waves of energy which caused miniature earthquakes in the immediate area, destabilizing everyone, including the XCOM soldiers.

Most were flattened into the ground; unlucky ones were crushed with an unrelenting psionic grip; Purifier tanks exploded and set fire to nearby areas; MDU’s were crushed and ripped apart, and Jamali heard the Marshal yell for a retreat in the background. Then Caelior turned himself around, one hand raised high in the air, with the massive United States Carrier held suspended several hundred feet in the air.

It was all too clear what he was going to do: Throw it into the center of Tokyo.

“Get on the chopper!” Dael yelled, and all of them quickly boarded them, and were speeding to the city, trying desperately to formulate a plan that had even a hope of stopping the nightmare gradually getting closer.

But Jamali was no longer sure that was possible. Not with the time they had.

Their only hope was maybe Patricia.

And even then…they might be calling her to her death.

***

_Nagoya, Japan_

No words were needed as XCOM stormed out of their skyranger into the heated battle of Nagoya, where the aliens were not just attacking from the shore, but also from the east of where they’d landed, in farmlands and fields where they assumed ADVENT wouldn’t be expecting them.

Shortsighted fools the aliens were.

Connected as she was with all of her squad, she had no need to give orders and watched them charge off to their respective battles. Cassandra and Jim headed to appropriate sniping positions; Matthew led Bora and Leonid towards the docks where the alien were attacking, and Fakhr led Anna and their MEC Gloria to assist by the farmlands.

Patricia herself closed her eyes and knelt on the ground. It was easier this way, much less distraction than just standing up and relying on unneeded gestures to impress her will on the enemies of XCOM. She felt she was beyond that now. Not quite at the level of an Ethereal like Aegis…but she was getting closer every day.

She felt the frantic, chaotic, and fearful minds of the Humans around her. Flashes entered and exited her mind like water. Memories, stray thoughts, strong emotions…they were all present and amplified in the heat of battle. Love, hate, hope, and despair were all in equal measure, largely swinging between the extremes.

She listened with interest as she observed the Humans minds around her, fascinated at the thoughts that ran through their heads before winking out of existence. Some thought about their spouses and kids, others regretful at not achieving their goals, others had the faces of their mortal enemy seared into their minds right before they died.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t usually the faceless alien that killed them, but some mundane Human that had wronged them at some point. Harsh bosses, cheating friends, whoever had the strongest emotional connection tended to be the last person one thought of before death.

How curious.

Nevertheless, she had a battle to win, and a job to do.

 _Be at ease,_ she began, focusing on the Human minds first, _focus and stand firm in the knowledge that you will be victorious. Let go of the fear, clear your minds. Focus on the aliens._

_Focus on them, and kill them._

_Wipe them out._

That she repeated until it was in the minds of the soldiers; it was their mantra, their singular goal for this day. Hopefully one they would never forget. And she felt the emotions around her change. The fear slowly faded and was replaced by cold resilience; resilience that only grew stronger as the minutes passed. Every death seemed to harden the resolve of those fighting; every injury only emboldened those alive to fight harder.

They fought by not letting the emotions humanity was so prone to rule them.

And perhaps that was why the Ethereals were so interested in them.

A human not ruled by emotion was a dangerous one indeed.

She smiled.

Now, the aliens.

They were all exclusively Mutons to her surprise. Odd that they would pick the most flawed species to fight today. A trap, or simple overconfidence? No matter, it only made her job easier and there were no tricks in the minds of these Mutons. Simple creatures, beings driven by instinct and whatever was drilled into them in the War Camps.

Such aliens were broken beyond repair. Whatever potential their species had held was now lost forever, crushed by the ambitions of the Ethereals and their quest for vengeance.

It was almost sad. Mutons didn’t have emotions like Humans, those had been purged long ago by the Ethereals. It had been purged by years of torturous training and beatings at the hands of Sargons, Sectoids, and Vitakara. The capacity for a Muton to feel anything beyond pain was no more.

And yet, there was a way.

She could _make_ them feel again.

Their minds would not be able to process what they were feeling, nor would they be able to handle it without simply freezing up and standing still. And so she projected her feelings into their minds; opening them to what had been purged long ago. Hate for her enemies, sadness for the friends she’d lost, hope for the future, and love for her friends and Creed.

It all rushed over their simple minds, and as she suspected, they simply froze. They stopped, as if frozen in mid-thought, and in a way, they were. It would take their brains hours to fully process what they were feeling, and by that time, all of them would be dead.

Her smile grew as their minds suddenly vanished, winking out like stars in a galaxy, until there were only a few more left in the void. And the Humans pressed forward, ever confident and resilient in the face of overwhelming odds. Odds which were slowly shifting back to their favor.

Still, she wondered why they had only sent Mutons. With that, she went into the primitive mind of one looking for clues, and managed to reconstruct a fragmented thought.

_Enemy appraisement. Test current defenses._

She frowned and mentally commanded the Muton to kill himself. Interesting. So they were probing ADVENT defenses? Seeing what they had before sending in-ah.

Well, they were getting better. Mutons were expendable. Better to tailor the second wave to the weaknesses of your enemy. It was probably the same for all the attacks then. Very clever, and an excellent usage of the superior numbers the aliens had, if a little useless. She frowned as there was something buzzing in the distance…what was…oh, right.

She returned to reality; the sounds and smells all coming back in a rush. “They’re testing the defenses,” she quickly said into her helmet. “The Mutons are just a front. The real attacks will be the second wave-“

 _“Patricia! We need to get you to the skyranger now,”_ the Commander interrupted. _“Big Sky is coming back for you now.”_

She frowned. She was never called away. “What’s happened?”

 _“Caelior,”_ the Commander confirmed with a word. _“And if we don’t get you there soon, he’s going to destroy Tokyo.”_

***

_Tokyo, Japan_

Jamali knew they were in a losing battle, though seeing the Ethereal float through Tokyo Bay, a massive US carrier held hundreds of feet in the air, it didn’t seem entirely real. He prayed this was some kind of horrible dream, but he knew that if it was, he would have woken up by now.

He tried lining up his pulse rifle, and fired another burning lance at the distant Ethereal, missed of course, and quickly moved because that was the _one_ thing that seemed to provoke Caelior. “Jump!” He yelled and Maria and Sora both complied as they moved to the next roof, and just in time as well.

He glanced back to see the building he had been standing on, a small two-story one, shimmer as it was surrounded by a slightly purple aura, before cracking and collapsing in on itself. Jamali’s heart pounded as the rubble settled, but the sounds and screams were still as prevalent as ever. There was _nothing_ that seemed to be able to stop the rampaging Ethereal.

Gauss rounds slowed to a crawl the moment they got near him, rockets were turned back at ADVENT laughable ease, buildings were collapsed into rubble with a clenched fist from the Ethereal, and his range seemed only as limited as far as he could see.

And he could see _far_.

“Jona!” Jamali yelled. “Can you stop him?”

Their telepath had one hand extended futilely to the flying Ethereal, purple energy shimmering around her. “I can’t!” She yelled in frustration. “He’s too strong! I can’t do it without help!”

Jamali glanced up as the Ethereal was getting frightfully close to the city. “Come on, Patricia!” He muttered. She was literally their only chance here, since Jona wasn’t strong enough, and their weapons weren’t doing more than posing a minor annoyance to the Ethereal.

“Jamali! Allison! Get on!” Dael yelled from a helicopter that landed behind them. “Maria! You get on too. We’ve only got one shot at this before he gets close enough!”

Jamali didn’t hesitate and jumped onto the helicopter along with the others, as they took off and began circling the area. “What’s the-“Jamali began, before Allison gasped and the building that they had just been on was suddenly surrounded by Caelior’s telekinetic hold, and shattered. With a grip strong enough to break stone, Jona, Sora, Gyeong, and Yasu weren’t nearly equipped to resist it, and their figures compressed into misshapen forms of humans, limbs bent in odd ways as their Aegis armor worked against them, making any injury far more painful.

He just blinked in surprise. Had it just been random bad luck? Or had Caelior been able to target them from Jona’s telepathic probe? But they were dead now; killed within seconds at the hands of the Ethereal.

Any slower and he might have been on the building when it imploded.

Allison’s voice was ragged. “Plan?”

“We trap him in stasis,” Dael answered grimly, summoning his power. “Both of us. That isn’t his specialty and we need to do it now.”

“But-“

“It won’t stop him, I know,” Dael answered. “Maria, Jamali, you shoot that glider-thing he’s riding. He’ll be invincible, but he’ll crash to the ground all the same. We drop a bomb down into the water and he might die.”

As far as plans went, it wasn’t the worst he’d heard, and see two skyscrapers collapse, knocking over even more buildings…they needed to act _now_. He exchanged a glance with Maria, who nodded and raised her pulse rifle. They could do this.

They got closer and closer. Jamali needed to learn the name of this pilot. He deserved a medal if they all survived this. “Now!” Dael yelled, and he and Allison extended their arms and Caelior was suddenly surrounded in a purple bubble that covered his body like a shell. Luckily his helmet was facing away, which meant he hadn’t seen their approach.

“Fire!” Jamali yelled, and red lances of fire spat out of their rifles and into the hoverboard Caelior was using, with them specifically targeting where the engines were. The silver board sparked, and the blue engines or anti-grav fields, Jamali didn’t know which, flickered out and failed.

And the board fell into the ocean.

But Caelior was still hovering in the air.

 _“Little foolish humans,”_ Caelior almost sounded amused, and the helicopter blades stopped. Jamali gasped as pressure covered his entire body, as if he was in a presser that was killing him by centimeters. _“A clever tactic, and one that might have worked, had I not prepared for such a maneuver.”_

The purple shell around Caelior had vanished, and the now-floating Ethereal spun around, one lower hand extended to the ground, another towards the helicopter now in his grasp, along with all the occupants. _“You die here today, XCOM,”_ Caelior spat, as Jamali felt his bones begin cracking. Maria and Dael screamed in pain. _“And you will die knowing you failed.”_

Caelior closed his fist, and the helicopter crumbled like a cheap toy, and the people within it were just as doomed. Jamali didn’t have to think about how he died. Perhaps his skull caved in on itself; perhaps his spine broke; perhaps the pressure forced his body to explode. But all that he felt was a brief flash of intense pain, and before he even had time to form a final though, let alone scream, everything ended.

And the crumpled helicopter crashed into the water, then sank to the bottom, never to be recovered.

***

_Osaka, Japan_

The battle had suddenly and unexpectedly shifted. Everything had been going along relatively well, and both XCOM teams had taken several more of the landed UFOs, but now there were…issues. Sierra first noticed that something was different when they suddenly came under attack by Floaters. Not just the cheap and poorly made floaters, these were…different.

They were the result of someone taking the concept, and putting as much armor as possible over them. Whatever visible flesh was on the alien, it was gone and replaced by metal. These Heavies carried full plasma rifles as well, not the carbines the smaller ones used, and they were being used to great effect.

“Down!” Sierra yelled, and yanked David to the ground, before directing her weapon back up and firing at the Heavy that was trying to flank them. One of several dozen which were assailing the ADVENT lines, of which they were a part of now. Six went down from combined ADVENT and XCOM fire, but several dozen were shot in quick succession as a response.

What was worse was that the Floaters completely negated Carmelita’s advantage, since they could stay above her, and largely out of the more accurate range of her alloy cannon. But even the aliens couldn’t keep that up forever, and with every Heavy they lost, that was one less. The unarmored Floaters weren’t that bad. One swipe with her sustained beam cut them right in half.

She glanced up over the water as damaged Heavies flew inside the transports hovering over it. They seemed to be acting as a hangar of sorts, and Sierra suspected that there were probably Battlefield Engineers inside.

“Said! Fatima! Status?” Carmelita demanded as she managed to blow a Floater apart that had come a bit too close.

 _“Holding,”_ Said grunted, and Sierra looked over to where he, Kiera and Antia were defending the docks. _“The Floaters are whittling down the ADVENT forces. I can’t protect them all.”_

“Another problem!” Sierra interrupted, as she saw two dozen shining disks coming across the water in the distance, accompanied by the familiar black drones. “Cyberdisks!”

 _“It’s not good over here,”_ Fatima breathed heavily, and Sierra saw from a quick glance over at the bridge that there was a _lot_ of ground being lost. The Ballista-class MEC was smoking, and the missile racks were almost depleted. Kenta needed to restock or get out of there, especially as she saw three Sectopods stomp out of the woods before the bridge.

 _“My telepathy isn’t working on them anymore,”_ Fatima explained. _“They’re using those mind-slaved Mutons, and the Andromedons have their suits overridden. Everything else is mechanical, and-gah!”_

“Shit!” Carmelita cursed as a massive floating white ball suddenly joined the Sectopods. “Gatekeeper!”

Alright, maybe there _wasn’t_ an idiot in charge after all. All of this was _way_ too specific to be a coincidence. “It was a trap,” she muttered to herself as her laser sheared through one Floater that tried an audacious flank. “They _wanted_ us to kill the useless Mutons.”

 _“Thank them later,”_ came the voice of Aarni. _“Carmelita, I need some priority targets. I can keep shooting whatever comes into my sights, but there are too many to choose from effectively.”_

“Can you hit the cyberdisks?” Carmelita demanded, as the disks transformed into their firing mode.

 _“Yes,”_ came the answer. _“Understood.”_

“New plan,” Carmelita continued, all of them continuing to fire as the Cyberdisks shot golden-trailing rounds onto ADVENT positions. “Said, you and me will go reinforce the bridge. Sierra, make sure everyone else holds here.”

“Got it!” Sierra confirmed as Carmelita began dashing away towards the fight on the bridge. A Cyberdisk suddenly flared and its insides caught fire, then fell into the water with a splash. Sierra took a few seconds to aim, then surgically fired at one of the small gaps in the cyberdisk, cutting through it easily and it fell into the water after a few seconds of sustained fire later.

That immediately attracted the attention of the aliens in the area, and she slid completely behind cover as plasma and golden rounds hit everywhere around her. A couple ADVENT soldiers jerked back as their bodies were pierced by the rounds and they fell still as she quickly reloaded a fresh cell into her rifle, and turned around to line up another shot.

To her dismay there were even more Heavy Floaters in the air, almost reminding her of a swarm of insects. They were shrugging off ADVENT gauss fire like water, or at the very least it wasn’t affecting them. And they had figured out how to use their superior speed and protection most effectively. The Heavy Floaters were dive-bombing ADVENT soldiers, slamming into them, grabbing the unlucky ones and dragging them up into the air, where they either dropped them into water, or slammed them into walls or the ground with bone-shattering force.

“We can’t keep all of them off!” David yelled as two Heavies flanked him and the soldiers around him. They fired, killing one soldier and wounding the other. Sierra swung her rifle around to shoot them, and quickly fired, hitting one directly in its metal head, doing enough damage to kill it instantly. The other one fired at an exposed David, and scored several direct hits in the leg.

David fell to the ground in a heap, though managed to raise his own rifle high enough to hit the Floater directly in the center chest, causing it to flare out of control and crash into a nearby building. Sierra rushed over to him, glancing down at the wounded leg which had dissolved most of the thigh armor, and the plasma residue was eating into the leg.

“Out of the way,” Antia interrupted, pulling out her med-kit. “Let me fix him up.”

“Thanks,” Sierra said as she returned to the quickly worsening situation. The Cyberdisks and Floaters were ripping the ADVENT forces apart, and the bridge battle wasn’t going well at all. The Gatekeeper was engaged with the front ADVENT soldiers, its shell open and tentacles extended, and consuming them in horrific fashion.

Said was clearly trying to establish some kind of defense, but against a horde of Sectopods, Mutons, and Andromedons, he couldn’t hold out forever. The Sectopod fire was relentless, and Sierra blinked as one massive blast slammed directly into Kenta’s MEC, and it blew apart with a fiery explosion. She swallowed. That was the MEC gone, and with it, one of the main reasons ADVENT had been able to hold the bridge.

“Two on the right!” Kiera shouted frantically, and Sierra barely had time to dodge out of the way before one of them tossed a small plasma grenade at Kiera’s feet, exploding and blowing the lower half of her apart before she could even move. The Floaters were quickly taken apart, but the damage was done, and they were another soldier down.

“Carmelita!” Sierra yelled furiously as she stepped back, trying to draw some fire on her. “We’re getting overrun here!”

 _“Well, it’s not any nicer over here!”_ Was the hissed response, with the familiar sound of alloy cannon shots in the background. _“Kenta is down, Fatima is hurt, and Said can’t defend the bridge on his own. Now I’ve got a Gatekeeper to deal with.”_

Sierra ground her teeth together as she shot a few more Floaters down. “We need to retreat. All we’re going to do is die if we stay!”

 _“I agree,”_ Carmelita answered grimly. _“They knew exactly how to counter us. We were played here. I’ve informed Colonel Chu of the recommended course of action.”_

“Is he going to do it?” Sierra demanded.

 _“All ADVENT Forces are ordered to immediately retreat to the designated regrouping area,”_ Chu suddenly interrupted on the comms. _“Blowing the bridge in five minutes.”_

 _“Time to get off here,”_ Carmelita said. _“Sierra, get David and Antia to the designated extraction zone. We’ll be close behind.”_

“Understood,” Sierra answered, waving to Antia who was standing over David, trying to protect him as best she could. “Come on! We’re getting out of here!”

She dashed over, providing brief bursts of covering fire as Antia hauled David to his one good leg, who also grunted in pain. “I’m just going to slow you down,” he grunted, in obvious pain still. “Just go!”

“Give him to me,” Sierra ordered, and she clumsily switched places with Antia, who took up the role of bodyguard and area suppressor. “We’re not leaving you behind.” She told David, and with a grunt slung him over her shoulder. Were she not genetically enhanced, she probably would have collapsed. As it was, he was extremely heavy and she was _not_ going to be able to protect herself.

“Aarni, cover our retreat!” She ordered as they began moving up the street as fast as possible, plasma and Cyberdisk rounds raining around the street and buildings.

 _“Copy that,”_ Sierra didn’t see what he was actually doing, her gaze was directly in front of her, moving forward as fast as possible; one foot in front of the other, even as she tried some means of making tracking difficult by moving in a zig-zag pattern, although she was probably too slow for it to make any real difference.

“We’re almost there,” Antia encouraged, sounding almost out of breath herself as they kept going. Sierra was purely following her HUD at this point, although the sounds of the battle had faded the more they got away from it. She was trying not to think of how close she’d probably come to dying. That wouldn’t serve any purpose.

But she’d come close today. Very _, very_ close.

She took a breath. The battle here was probably lost.

Hopefully the others were going better. Assuming that the rest of the attacks had been more or less straightforward.

But she had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Whoever had planned this knew what they were doing.

Probably wasn’t that idiot from the first time then. Sierra sincerely wished that aliens would actually make some mistakes every once in a while. Because when they were smart, they were terrifying and almost unstoppable.

***

_Nakashibetsu, Japan_

The aliens were both doing what Duri expected, and not at the same time. He found it interesting that the reinforcements still hadn’t begun moving forward, and they seemed content to watch ADVENT utterly annihilate the remaining Muton forces, sending each and every last one to the grave. Some more Warthog barrages had targeted the transports some of the Mutons fled to, and that had resulted in several massive explosions as the Warthogs must have ruptured the elerium engines, destroying the craft completely.

That had prompted the aliens to send in several squads of alien fighters, and now there was a raging dogfight in the air, which essentially meant that they would not be getting any air support for a while. The destroyer had been constantly moving ever since that strange Andromedon craft plunged into the water, and as such wasn’t providing much assistance. At the speed it was going, Duri would have guessed it was running for its life if he didn’t know better.

However, the lull on the ground was likely going to stop soon as the Corporal informed them of the latest development.

 _“We’ve got another UFO on approach-,”_ Corporal Williams suddenly informed the soldiers, with his voice halting unexpectedly at the end. _“Purifier forces immediately move back. Confirmation of an Overseer-class UFO on approach. Possibility of Battlemaster engagement raised.”_

Duri exchanged glances with his squad, expressions all hidden under the helmets, but any elation he’d felt had quickly faded at that. _The Battlemaster_. “Fuck.” Cara summed up for them eloquently, as she frantically reloaded her weapon. “And here I thought things were going well.”

 _“Rocketeers, ready weapons for launch,”_ Williams stated, as in the distance a small gray UFO appeared. Kang raised his weapon, as did all the Rocketeers in the area. Duri did not have high expectations that this would work, but there was always the chance. _“Fire!”_ Williams ordered, and several dozen rockets sped towards the UFO.

Small red lasers shot out of small turrets which popped up the instant the missiles were launched, and quickly reduced the missile volley to dust and metal. “That went well,” Kang muttered as he switched back to his rifle.

“Looks like it’s landing,” Duri noted with some surprise, as he aimed his weapon at the entrance. “Weapons up!”

 _“Prepare for concentrated volley,”_ Williams ordered. _“Fire the moment whatever’s inside steps out.”_

“Copy,” Duri affirmed, and they waited.

And waited.

At five minutes, Cara was clearly starting to get restless. “He’s taking his sweet time,” she muttered. “Whoever this is doesn’t seem to care.”

“Or he’s being smart,” Johan pointed out. “Although that raises the question of _why_ he’d come alone?”

The UFO was a fair distance down the beach, literally hovering a few inches above the water itself before the sand proper. It had landed in between two of the empty transports, and was grossly out of the range of the majority of their weapons. ADVENT was cautiously moving forward, and the MDU’s were marching forward slowly, accompanied by some Purifiers who stopped about a quarter of the way to the transport, which was still fairly far away, but at a range the Purifiers could reach.

 _“Purifiers, ignite the target,”_ Williams ordered, and the Purifiers kept walking forward, as if they hadn’t heard the command. _“Hold your positions,”_ Williams repeated. _“I repeat, hold your positions.”_

The Purifiers spun around in perfect coordination and unleashed their flamethrowers on the completely exposed MDU’s. None of the machines stood a chance as they exploded and melted from the torrents of flame from the traitorous Purifiers. The chemical fire flared dangerously close to the ADVENT line, but for better or worse, the worst of it had been taken by the MDU’s and the Purifiers didn’t seem to want to continue firing, as they walked back towards the UFO, as slow and mechanical as metal zombies.

“Humans!” A deep bass voice rang out, as the alien inside the UFO finally stepped out, the area in front of him charred and broken glass, and the compromised Purifiers moved to form a pyramid of protection around him, although not close enough that if they exploded, they would harm him. Duri also noted that even if the alien _was_ in range of a Purifier explosion, the chances of even a sniper hitting the tanks was extremely low.

Purifiers had been built specifically to _withstand_ enemy fire like this.

The alien himself was not an Ethereal. Nor was it any other species Duri thought he had seen before.

The alien was _massive_ , it stood nearly as tall as an MDU, with bulging muscles encased in segmented and seemingly ceremonial red armor. The fingers of its red gauntlets had tipped points, and the symbol in the center of his chest armor was clearly reminiscent of an Ethereal figure. If said Ethereal was a _stick_ figure.

“What the hell is that?” Johan muttered.

It reminded Duri of a Muton, if that Muton was a little smaller, not quite as strong, and could talk. The face was that of a brute, ugly, with compressed features and a blockish head, not to mention scarred horrifically. The skin was a deep shade of purple, although the bald scalp was a mix of violet and purple from all of the scar tissue. The eyes were a deep purple, and seemed to burn with an unnatural purple fire.

Under his right arm he held a similarly ornate helmet, one reminiscent of the ones Mutons wore sometimes, which completely covered the face and only had slits for eyes. But this one had ornaments that were angular and jagged at the ears, and the back had some kind of hair or wig coming out of it.

Duri surmised that Johan had spoken for all of them.

Because he had no idea what this thing was.

Except that it was psionic.

“Humans!” The alien repeated, raising a pointed hand not holding the helmet at them. “You have stood in defiance of the Elders for far too long. You have insulted their generous nature, and your continued resistance is beyond merely _insulting_ , it is _heretical_!”

The alien raised his hand to the sky. “The Elders wished to bestow great gifts upon your species, as they did to me! But like petulant children, you have squandered their goodwill, not even comprehending what you will lose in pursuit of your hollow victories! You are blind, arrogant, and _weak_!”

Duri wasn’t sure if he should be worried at how genuinely offended the alien sounded, or confused because he was literally _monologuing_ in front of them. And the alien began to _pace_. “ _Snipers, set your sights on this thing,”_ Williams commanded, cold fury evident in his voice. _“Let him keep wasting his breath.”_

“…For even the generous Elders will not tolerate your rebellion any longer!” The alien continued ranting. “Their grace has been exhausted, for they have sent me! I am the Creator’s Greatest Champion™! Be honored, Humans! You stand in the presence of Senorium, Fist of the Creator and Warlock of the Elders!”

“Who the fuck is the Creator?” Cara muttered in disbelief.

“God?” Kang asked in equal confusion. “I mean, this guy seems to think the Ethereals are gods anyway. Who would have thought aliens have their religious fanatics as well.”

 _“Psionic_ religious fanatics who don’t shut up,” Duri added. “Look, he’s still going.”

 _“Fire,”_ Williams commanded, and all the Snipers in range shot their rifles in quick succession, discharges reaching his ears within milliseconds of each other. The alien actually reacted quickly, raising a hand and a small shield appeared in front of him, but Duri quite clearly saw one of the bullets hit the unprotected part of his throat, ripping it apart.

Purple blood spilled out, and the alien reached for it, looking more angry than in pain. “You wish a battle?” The Warlock gasped, straightening up as the wound closed before Duri’s eyes. He blinked. Impossible. He doubted even an enhanced XCOM soldier could survive a direct shot to the throat.

“You cannot kill me!” The Warlock roared, abandoning all pretense of civility as purple psionic flames encased him. “No mortal can hope to stand against me! You will die _now_!” All of ADVENT suddenly began firing at the Warlock as he surrounded himself in a psionic shield, while putting on his helmet.

He screamed some battle cry in a harsh, guttural language, and he raised a hand encased in psionic energy to the sky, as if lifting something, before pointing the other one at the ADVENT army. Then things immediately turned terrifying. Hundreds of purple figures appeared on the beach, materializing out of nowhere.

The moment they appeared they began running towards the ADVENT line which quickly turned to focusing on them. Duri didn’t know what these things could possibly be. They were humanoid figures, some clearly defined while others were little more than psionic mist in the shape of a humanoid. They held strange kinds of melee weapons in their hands, or maybe they were parts of their hands.

The soldiers were clearly afraid of what these things were, and firing frantically into the ghostly force charging towards them. Duri just fired and prayed that these things even _could_ be killed. Luckily, at least _some_ of them seemed to be vulnerable. The ones made out of little more than psionic mist dissipated after a couple shots, while the more defined and solid ones took a few volleys to completely be destroyed.

But Duri also noticed that they couldn’t be wounded or slowed down. Not in the conventional way. It was all or nothing. They were either destroyed or they were not. The only thing that indicated damage was that cracks appeared through the defined ghosts, and the immaterial ones became less visible.

The Warlock was laughing as he strode forward, a laugh torn between joy and pain. Psionic energy formed in his hands and he thrust them at a nearby ADVENT fortification. A maelstrom of destructive psionic energy materialized and tore the soldiers within it apart, as well as anything else caught in the storm.

The psionic ghosts that hadn’t been destroyed were now on the ADVENT line, and to Duri’s terror, they actually were more than just illusions. The ones of psionic wisps sliced and cut against the armor, and it had the same effect as if dangerous psionic energy was used on it. This resulted in the blades of psionic mist cutting and stabbing through armor easily.

The solid apparitions were thankfully much less dangerous. Their weapons were more blunt than sharp, and although they were harder to kill, they were not nearly as deadly as their glass cannon counterparts. Duri shot one of the immaterial ghosts, and it vanished, but there were two more solid ones that were attempting to kill Cara.

One she blew apart with a volley, but the other sent her back with enough force to send her to the ground. Kang stepped up and killed that one, as well as another coming around the side. “They’re on me!” Johan shouted as three of the immaterial ghosts charged him; one he shot into nothing, and Duri managed to shoot the other, but none of them were fast enough to stop the last one from slicing down at him, then stabbing him in the neck with the psionic blade, which sizzled the skin it stabbed though, before it vanished as Duri killed it.

“We need to fall back!” Duri yelled as the seemingly endless wave of ghosts kept coming. The MDU’s were practically useless as their sensors likely didn’t recognize the immaterial forms, and thus couldn’t fire at them. Whoever was in charge of the MDU’s had ordered them back, but the machines were taking damage all the same, yet were unable to act on it.

The other ADVENT soldiers were still holding the lines, but the Warlock was continuously advancing, creating little psionic storms in secure fortifications, turning them into death traps. _“All forces immediately retreat!”_ Corporal Williams ordered. _“Retreat to interior defenses-“_

He was suddenly cut off, and Duri didn’t waste time worrying about what that meant. “Come on!” He yelled to Cara and Kang, and they began backing up, firing at the apparitions continuously. Duri felt a pang of regret for having to leave Johan’s body behind but, there was no choice whatsoever. “Beatriz! Come in!”

 _“Y-yes?”_ She answered, her voice ragged and terrified. She sounded like she was going to hyperventilate. Fuck. He couldn’t have her break down now.

“Listen to me,” Duri commanded, putting some extra steel into his voice. “ _Keep calm_. _Stay_ where you are and _do not move_ until we are at your position. How many of those ghosts are left?”

A pause. _“I…I think a quarter of what they were. Maybe, I…”_

Alright, that could be worked with. “Good,” he interrupted her. “ _Keep shooting them_. Target the more immaterial ones. Those are more dangerous. Do you got that?”

_“I…yes sir.”_

“Good,” Duri nodded as he shot a few more psionic ghosts. “Stay calm. We’re on our way.”

And as they retreated deeper into the city, the insane laughing of the Warlock followed them as he pursued the soldiers, psionic energy rippling in his hands as he continued ripping them apart with his immense power. And behind him, the UFO Transports began moving.

This was somehow going to get worse.

***

_Tokyo, Japan_

_“All of Twin Team has gone silent,”_ Big Sky informed Patricia as she stood alone in the skyranger. _“They’re presumed dead, killed by Caelior.”_

“Understood,” Patricia said softly, even as she first felt the Ethereal himself. She didn’t know how close they were, but she could sense his power was immense. Vindication and triumph were emanating off him in equal measure, and he clearly took great joy in exercising his powers. “Open the ramp,” ,he ordered, wanting to see the battleground before deciding what to do.

 _“Patricia, this is the Commander,”_ he suddenly interrupted. _“You’re not going to be able to stop him now. ADVENT is in full retreat from the city and we can’t afford to lose you as well.”_

“I know!” She scowled. “But I’m going to see for myself before deciding.”

 _“I’ll try to stay out of his range,”_ Big Sky promised. _“But even still…”_

“Do it,” Patricia repeated, as she reached out to probe Caelior’s mental defenses. All background noise faded to silence as she tapped into the psionic power within her, and reached out to the alien below her.

She met the equivalent of a brick wall. It was a shell that completely blocked any access to his mind beyond the basic sensing of emotions. _Not good._ A quick survey didn’t reveal any significant weaknesses, and even if she were to press, he might be able to pinpoint exactly where she was, and that would only get her killed.

She needed support. Multiple telepaths minimum, people who could augment her strength or overwhelm Caelior’s mind. The technique had worked with the Ravaged One, it would probably work here, if she actually had anyone to help her.

The ramp opened up and she got a look at the destruction Caelior had already wreaked upon the city. It had started in the canal before Tokyo Bay, and it had only continued. Buildings and businesses had been turned to shattered rubble, leaving hundreds of gaps amidst the city, and the collapses had also destroyed other buildings beside them.

There were thousands of dead ADVENT soldiers, MDU’s, and aircraft littering the water and land. Every single one was mutilated in some way, from irregularly shaped limbs to complete pulverization of the bodies. Many would never be identified. Dozens of small fires were raging, dotting it in orange, likely from exploded Purifiers, and the fires would cause more damage before burning themselves out.

And she saw the floating US carrier, suspended high in the air, just as the Ethereal below it threw the raised hand forward, and the behemoth of steel was thrown forward, flying through the air almost in slow-motion as it careened towards the center of the city. It was almost elegantly thrown, up until it crashed into the first buildings.

The sound was deafening as skyscrapers were shattered and toppled as the carrier cut through the bases of the buildings like butter; each destroyed building raising clouds of smoke as it fell. The carrier cut through a good portion of the city before coming to a stop; complete destruction in its wake.

The Ethereal himself was suspended in the air, likely under his own power, observing his handiwork, before he continued drifting forward, telekinetic powers employed as he destroyed what ADVENT forces were left, and turning the buildings still standing into rubble.

“Head back,” Patricia said quietly. “We can’t do anything more here.”

 _“Yes, Psion Trask,”_ Big Sky answered just as somberly. _“Leaving the area now.”_

***

_Nakashibetsu, Japan_

_“We’re getting surrounded,”_ Beatriz updated worriedly as Duri, Cara, and Kang continued retreating through the streets. More ADVENT soldiers were taking up positions behind the barricades in the streets, and the turrets were primed and ready, as were the MDU’s left. It looked like the Purifiers were being moved to certain choke points.

Beatriz’s update was not exactly welcome. “How?” Cara demanded as she leapt over a barricade and positioned herself in a firing stance.

 _“They’ve landed UFO transports on the beach and east and west sides,”_ she explained. _“Largely Mutons and Andromedons from each of them. I think there are a few Vitakara teams as well.”_

“Set up here,” Duri instructed his team, as they joined several other squads at the barricade. “Beatriz, what’s coming up to us?” He glanced up at the roof she was positioned up on, along with a couple other snipers.

 _“Uh…”_ she audibly swallowed. _“Andromedons.”_

“Wonderful,” Cara grunted. “As long as that Warlock doesn’t show up with them, we should be fine.”

 _“Majority of ADVENT forces are in fortified positions,”_ Williams stated over the radio. _“Purifier forces perform immediate area denial and retreat to safe position.”_

The Purifier on their street immediately stepped forward, raised his flamethrower, and shot a torrent of white-orange flame which set the entire street alight, as well as the buildings on the ends. Duri didn’t feel comfortable being this close to the chemical, but it would force the Andromedons to find some other path.

Though it didn’t deter them for long.

“Andromedon!” One of the soldiers yelled, and immediately plasma lances came down on their position as the Andromedons began firing, not from the street, but from the buildings around it. Their angles of attack weren’t exceptional, but they had a line of sight to the ADVENT line. They were also constrained by how many could fire at a time.

And it trapped them. “Kang! Collapse it!” Duri ordered, and Kang immediately pulled out his rocket launcher again, and loaded in his final rocket.

“Marking now, syncing…” Duri continued, switching to his green laser sight, which pointed at one of the buildings containing an Andromedon force. The green beam turned red. “Locked!” He yelled.

Kang fired the rocket, which hit one of the Andromedons directly in its green-yellow helmet and blew apart the entire wall, and within a few seconds later, caused the building to collapse into the street. The rubble caught fire the moment it touched the burning street, and began spreading onto the nearby buildings.

“Nice shot!” Cara called, doing her best to lay down a suppressive barrage on another building holding Andromedon soldiers. “I think-” She was interrupted by a surprised gurgle as a soldier next to her fell over, a small hole in his forehead.

“Sniper!” Duri called, and all of them reflexively fell into cover. “Beatriz!”

 _“I can’t get a clear look!”_ She yelled back. _“Might be two or more. Vitakara probably.”_

Another lightning plasma bolt hit an Officer without warning, and the Andromedons were moving further up the buildings. _“Got a shot,”_ Beatriz updated. _“Firing.”_

A few seconds. _“One down.”_

Duri let out a small sigh. Alright, this was still bad, but Beatriz and the Snipers could hopefully deal with the Vitakara. The larger problem were the Andromedons moving ever-closer. “Acid!” Kang shouted in warning as a half-dozen Andromedons stepped outside their protective buildings, raised their fists and shot out small green pellets at the ADVENT line and turrets.

Duri immediately fell behind protective cover, as small puddles of sizzling green acid landed around him. Soldiers yelled as they were hit and it began eating into them, and some landed on MDU’s and turret barrels, warping the metal and preventing it from working properly.

Some of the MDU’s, deprived of weapons, charged the Andromedons who’d shot the acid. Unlike the Mutons which Duri knew would try and fight back, hand-to-hand, the Andromedons simply raised their wrists and sprayed the MDU’s with acid which ate through the metal and destroyed the integrity of the limbs well before they were destroyed by the acid destroying vital systems.

The good news was that the Andromedons had exposed themselves to the surviving MDU’s and turrets, and those surgically destroyed their suits. An MDU blew apart the tubes on one of the Andromedons; the acid tanks on their backs were destroyed by some turrets, and with ADVENT now somewhat recovered, their combined fire was enough to completely kill the Andromedons, including before they could utilize their AI that activated after death.

Duri quickly looked around. They only had maybe fifteen soldiers left, and there weren’t any reinforcements coming that he could see. Whereas he couldn’t tell just how many Andromedons were left; there could be dozens or only a few. Given the rate of fire still being used on them, he figured they had plenty of soldiers left.

He quickly glanced upwards, and there were UFO fighters still streaking over, engaged in dogfights with some of the Ravens. No chance of any kind of air support then, as that was still tied up, they were too far for the Destroyer to help, provided it was even in any position to do anything. “Corporal,” he said on the channel. “We’re getting overwhelmed with Andromedons here. Requesting reinforcements.”

 _“I don’t have any to spare,”_ was the tight answer. _“Every front is under attack.”_

“Then we need to retreat out of the city,” Duri insisted, as he fired a few times at an exposed Andromedon. “We _cannot_ hold this position without support!”

 A pause on the end. _“Orders will be coming shortly. Hold the line until then. Williams out.”_

Duri actually hoped that _shortly_ wasn’t code for _death sentence_ , but the Corporal knew that they couldn’t win this now, especially if things were as bad as had been suggested. If there really were _no_ reinforcements, then this attack was much bigger than he’d thought. “Stand by for orders!” He yelled, speaking to the remaining forces, since many of the Officers had died. “Hold the line!”

A plasma lance slammed into another soldier who collapsed to the ground. And now the Andromedons judged it was the time to strike, and they came pouring out, determined to simply tank the remaining damage ADVENT could put out. Duri had a choice now: Try and hold the line or retreat.

It wasn’t a hard one. “Fall back!” He ordered, waving a hand backwards. The soldiers immediately retreated dashing back a few steps, falling into whatever cover was around, and firing a few shots, while the Gunners performed a sustained fallback, firing as they went. “Ah!” Kang gasped as a plasma lance hit his leg, forcing him to the ground.

Cara stopped and began moving towards him, before he waved her off. “Go now!” She didn’t have much of a choice as the Andromedons quickly reached where he was, one lowered a gauntlet and sprayed his quivering body with acid, eliciting some loud and chilling screams before he died.

“Beatriz!” Duri called. “Get down here now!”

“I’m here,” she responded, dashing out of the building she’d been in, and firing with her drawn pistol. “We need to-“

“Yes! I know!” Duri yelled back, trying to prevent her from breaking down completely. Even through her armor he could tell her body was shaking horribly, turning her shots into wild misses. Her entire balance was off, and he wondered if she would be able to fully run without stumbling over herself.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a crate. “Beatriz! Listen!” He yelled at her over the shooting. “Look at me! You understand?” A quick nod. “Take a breath and _stay by me_! We’re going to get out of this, do you understand?!”

Another nod. “Alright, let’s go!” He ordered, and they stood and continued to fall back, now with some distance put between themselves and the Andromedons. With no more Sniper support, the Vitakara snipers had returned to shooting the soldiers, killing several more with their plasma bolts.

 _“ADVENT forces are immediately ordered to begin retreating out of the city,”_ Williams finally updated. _“Purifier forces are standing by for final area denial.”_

Damn it, he was leaving another soldier behind. Two down. He couldn’t lose any more today. His HUD had the coordinates and pathing, so he directed the surviving soldiers that way. “Behind me and reload!” He ordered Cara, whose clip was running out. “Now-“

Another plasma bolt slammed past him and directly into Beatriz chest. She collapsed with a gasp, but the first thing Duri noticed when he knelt to check her was that she was still breathing. Barely. But she was breathing. The sniper had directly hit the hardest part of the armor, and it had absorbed the worst of it.

Not all of it, and he knew she would die if she didn’t get medical attention soon. Plasma wounds were like acid, but slower. By the time it fizzled out it might burn through her chest. He tossed aside his rifle and picked her up in both his arms. Throwing her over his shoulder would probably only make the wound worse, not to mention be extremely painful for her.

All he could do was pray they were out of the range of the snipers.

“Cara! Cover me!” He yelled as he dashed past her.

“On it!” She confirmed, still spraying gauss rounds down the street. Duri didn’t know how long they had been moving, running, and shooting, but the end was in sight. There were transports and Purifiers at a small city square, waiting for them.

There were only six of them left, as the MDU’s had long since been destroyed, and one of the six was injured. Upon seeing them running up, one of the Officers gestured and an ADVENT Medic came running up to him. “Direct plasma shot to chest,” he urgently told the Medic. “Armor seems to have taken the worst, but-“

“I’ve got it,” he assured Duri, waving for a few soldiers to come with a stretcher. “She’ll live. Don’t worry.”

Duri turned around and saw the two Purifiers begin their final area denial. They didn’t stop at just the streets this time. Every nearby building that didn’t immediately pose a threat to them was doused in the terrifying chemical. As the entire street burned, Duri felt that was a good metaphor for how this entire attack had gone.

Up in flames.

Everything they’d accomplished here was ultimately for nothing.

And he didn’t know what they would be able to do to make sure it didn’t happen again.

***

Supplementary Material

The Advent Directive

Section 8: ADVENT Military

Subsection 8.6: ADVENT Army (Abridged)

Overview: The ADVENT Army is the primary ground force of the ADVENT military, and is responsible for all ground combat waged. The structure and funding of the ADVENT Army is to be larger than other military divisions because of the increased areas of control and because the majority of armed forces are ground-based.

Structure: 

  * **General** : The general of the ADVENT Army oversees the major operations and deployments of the Army, and coordinates heavily with the other ADVENT Military.
  * **Chief Marshal** : The Chief Marshal is the designated officer over ADVENT Army Legions, which are largely provided to member nations, although there are some held in reserve to deploy in cases of emergency. Coordinates often with the General of the ADVENT Army.
  * **Marshal** : Marshals oversee Garrisons of ADVENT Legions, and are largely used to protect major cities within member or enemy nations. As they command Garrisons, they are more mobile than standard Legions, as are thus able to more accurately distribute their forces. Marshals report directly to the Chief Marshal.
  * **Colonel** : Colonels oversee Companies of ADVENT Garrisons, and are largely used for specific and precise geological positioning, and are able to be one of the most mobile forces of the army. They are best suited in conjunction with other Companies or higher, or defending smaller towns. Colonels report directly to Marshals.
  * **Corporal** : Corporals have direct authority over the management or positioning of Squads of soldiers which are composed of Units, many of which can be unique and specialize in multiple areas. Corporals are essential in reducing the workload of command, and are likely to be most involved in battlefield command. Corporals report directly to Colonels.
  * **Officer** : Officers oversee four-man squads of ADVENT soldiers and are the primary battlefield commanders in the heat of combat. These are essential for maintaining battlefield discipline. Officers report directly to Corporals.
  * **Specialty Units** : These are units that do not fall directly under a specific hierarchy of command, but generally answer at minimum to Corporals: 
    * **Purifier** : Flame units that specialize in area denial and annihilation tactics.
    * **Medic** : Primary medical professionals specializing in battlefield medicine. Are armed with gauss rifles and pistols
    * **Engineer** : Battlefield engineers that specialize in adapting equipment found on the battlefield into usable equipment, as well as maintaining robotic and vehicular units in and out of combat.
  * **Soldier** : ADVENT soldiers have several different specializations: 
    * **Gunner** : Are heavy-fire units which should be utilized for suppression and area denial. Their primary weapon is a gauss autorifle.
    * **Infantry** : The standard soldier of the ADVENT Army, who uses gauss rifles and pistols.
    * **Sniper** : Long-range specialists that are utilized for single-target removal and surgical sabotage. Armed with a sniper rifle and pistol.
    * **Rocketeer** : Heavy weapon and explosive specialists armed with a gauss rifle and rocket launcher.




	18. Annexation: Canada

 

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Patricia didn’t recognize where she was. She appeared to be in some circular hallway, with the windows outside showing red sand. Dust blew in gusts, and that was enough for her to become lucid enough to realize that she was dreaming. Immediately, she extended her psionic senses and…

She froze.

The Imperator.

It was unmistakable. There was no other Ethereal that had the same sheer aura of power, even within this mental construct. Caelior, and even Aegis were shadows compared to him, and he knew she was aware, and that she was afraid. She knew that he would likely be able to take over her mind, and there might not be much she could do.

But he seemed content to just let her come to him. She could sense where he was easily enough, and even though she didn’t know the layout of this place, it probably wouldn’t take her long. So she started walking, realizing she was in her armor, minus the helmet and autorifle. She pursed her lips, concentrated, and willed the familiar weapon into her hands.

For whatever good it would do.

She kept walking through the empty station, wondering where she actually was. The detail was too rich to merely be a construct. There were always signs of a purely mental creation, which meant that the Imperator was…well, even more powerful than she anticipated, or that this was drawn from a memory of this place.

She kept looking out the windows, and was fairly sure she wasn’t on Earth. Mars? Mercury? Her astrology really wasn’t the best, but she was pretty sure there weren’t any buildings on those planets, and at least some of them were completely uninhabitable. Then again, Mars _was_ where they were pretty certain the main alien command was, so it would make sense that they had built some stations on the planet itself.

Patricia reached a door, with a green holographic circular lock in the center, which dissipated as she approached, and slid into the walls silently, and she continued. As she kept going, the walls becoming more exposed and revealed their internal workings, she became aware of a low hum in the back of her head. It reminded her of the UFOs, but this wasn’t nearly as pervasive. It was more like a machine running; not something that was jammed into your skull.

A few more winding hallways, and she suddenly found herself in what seemed to be some kind of…control center? There were computer stations that had no noticeable similarities to Human tech…or…she frowned. It even seemed different to Ethereal tech. There weren’t any kind of screens or interfaces, but they were definitely meant to be interacted with.

In the center was what they were all connected to. In the center was some kind of rectangular device, green lit lines running along it, shielded by a similarly colored stasis field. It was utterly unlike anything she’d seen, and still seemed to be…online. Assuming that it actually worked like that, and wasn’t just a shiny monument.

“A repository,” the rumbling voice of the Imperator stated out of nowhere, stepping beside her. “We were not the first to find your species.”

Patricia looked over, and saw that he’d assumed the form of…Patricia frowned. The name didn’t come to the front of her mind right away, but she _had_ seen him before. Ah, right. He was that old guy that always accompanied Saudia. Why the Imperator was assuming his form of all things was interesting, but at least it wasn’t her father again.

“Where are we?” She asked finally.

“Mars,” he answered. “Specifically, the ruins on the planet. The Collective Observation station is in orbit, but there have been a few teams sent down here. A fascinating place it is, despite what happened.”

Patricia sighed. “And I’m sure you’ll enlighten me?”

The Imperator stepped forward, a smile on his face as he looked at the strange artifact before them. “Honestly, I can only speculate. All that is certain is that at one point, they were here, and then seemingly vanished. The technology is even different from our own, and this is not the first time we have encountered it.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “How perceptive. _I_ could have guessed that.”

“You are missing the point, psion,” the Imperator chided. “Does that not remind you of something? Or has Aegis been remiss in teaching you our history? The very reason we still _exist_?”

Ah, she got it now. “You really think this alien species was killed by the Synthesized?”

“Or something equally as dangerous,” the Imperator nodded approvingly. “There are only two forces that could simply wipe out a powerful galactic civilization, and time does not seem to be something that hinders them. Perhaps it is the Synthesized, perhaps not. The point is that it is unlikely that they have suffered the same fate. One day they will return.”

Patricia wondered at that. “But you don’t know.”

The Imperator smiled, an expression that looked alien on his Human avatar. “No. Not for sure. But there is little point assuming without proof.”

Patricia crossed her arms. “Is there a point to this? Are you going to do something to me, or just give me a history lesson?”

“Do you really think I care about your species fighting back?” The Imperator asked. “It does not matter what happens. You only have one planet. Do you really think that I have not dealt with upstart species before? You pose no threat to me, psion, and you still seem to believe you have a chance against us. Every advancement you think will be the key to your victory will ultimately mean nothing. The use of dangerous chemicals, nuclear weapons; tricks of technology, those will only prolong the war, and not end it in your favor.”

He took a few steps towards her. “You think of us as arrogant, but I find it amusing to think that of all species, _yours_ will single-handedly topple a galactic collective composed of billions of soldiers and spacecraft. Perspective is needed, psion. At the moment your greatest enemy is us, but who will it be next should you miraculously manage to win?”

Patricia shrugged. “Aegis has mentioned other alien species in the inner galaxy. Depending on how hostile they are-“

“Incorrect,” The Imperator stated flatly. “They are all puppets, controlled by those who are far more powerful and manipulative than they could ever hope to be. I am surprised your own species was ignored before we found you, though since we were directed here, I do wonder just what their plan was…” he trailed off contemplatively. “Win or lose, psion Trask, you will need to recognize who the true threats are, and they are not mere alien species, but beings much older and dangerous. Ones powerful enough to bring our Empire to the ground, or wage proxy wars using entire species over countless cycles. In the grand scheme of things, we are, to provide a Human analogy, a sand castle against a raging flood. But I believe that can be changed.”

“Who?” Patricia demanded. “The Synthesized?”

“One of them, for certain,” the Imperator nodded. “But they may be gone. There are ones who are tangible and real to beware of. There is a reason we have avoided the puppet species so far.”

Patricia furrowed her eyebrows. “That isn’t an answer.”

“I will tell you,” the Imperator smiled again. “One day. But all I desire now is for you to think. Understand what you are really fighting for, and fighting against. Aegis does not accept certain realities, but I do not believe you will ignore the evidence once you make the connection. Fight well, Patricia. We will speak again.”

He inclined his head, and Patricia woke up.

***

_The Praesidium, Patricia’s Quarters_

She woke up with a short gasp.

A quick glance at the clock told her that she had been sleeping at least five hours, but she was strangely alert with no drowsiness whatsoever. Creed was right beside her, still breathing softly and one arm wrapped over her. She took a breath and took the opportunity to snuggle into him, even though she knew she wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep tonight.

One perk of being the Overseer of Psionic Operations was that she got her own room. Not too large, but it was enough for a two-person bed, a couple nightstands, and an armor rack and small armory. And it was all to herself, and anyone she wanted to share it with of course.

Mostly the man she was sleeping beside.

An argument could be made that her life had gone horribly wrong (as had every other Human’s on the planet), but this was one area of her life that certainly _hadn’t_. She’d quite honestly thought that any sort of relationship she’d develop would be after her military service, outside of the couple flings with those guys she’d found enjoyable, although that had quickly grown problematic as well. A lesson she’d learned was that relationships based solely on sex never really worked out. So eventually she just decided to focus on what she was good at.

It was a shame they really didn’t get any kind of vacation or shore leave, she figured her parents would like him. He really was the kind of guy her father would want her to marry, and while _she_ was not expecting that to be brought up for a long time, it was a possibility she could see happening. One day. But she wasn’t convinced it needed to happen for a while yet. It really wouldn’t do much aside from making it official, and there were quite a few more pressing matters at the moment.

Like her conversation with the Imperator.

She grew grim at that, and pushed herself tighter against Creed, as if that would do anything. It didn’t, but it was a comforting feeling. The Commander and Aegis were going to wonder what he was talking about, and that he _still_ didn’t seem interested in…really doing anything. He’d shown up, talked with her, and left.

It was maddening. In a strange way, he reminded her of Quisilia, doing things that made no sense. Why would he tell her this, then just leave? A warning? His own strange way of expressing respect? Just part of his game? Maybe Aegis could answer it, but she wasn’t so sure. That, and there was definitely something on Mars…assuming the entire dream wasn’t an illusion.

 _That_ , however, was probably something Aegis could confirm. If they really had encountered that strange technology before, he’d likely be aware of it. If that _was_ the case, then she did have to wonder at the power of something that could wipe out not just one, but _multiple_ galactic civilizations.

That was when she also realized that she’d forgotten to ask the Imperator another rather important question. He’d said there were _two_ capable of such a fear. If the Synthesized were one…

Then what the hell was the other?

And apparently, this was the larger threat, at least to the Imperator. Had Aegis forgotten to mention the _other_ galactic threat or did he not know either? The Imperator seemed very keen on keeping secrets from those he didn’t trust, which then begged the question of why he was telling her this. Not to mention the strange warning about ‘knowing who the real threats are’.

Could that be, in a twisted form of a contingency, his way of warning them that even if they won, they would be forced to fight the same enemy in the future?

She frowned in the darkness. There were too many missing pieces. Too much was unknown. There was a _lot_ more going on beyond Earth that they had no comprehension of; that _Aegis_ might not know. The Imperator had said he didn’t care, and she believed him; she’d sensed no dishonesty when he’d spoken, although given his power, he was probably one of the few who would be able to lie to her and succeed.

But if he was being truthful, then that was troubling. If an entire species fighting against his Collective, developing psionics, and overall fighting better than they should have, not to mention one of the more powerful Ethereals _defecting_ to their cause…if _that_ wasn’t something he cared about, then what _was_?

Maybe she was making it too complicated. It was entirely possible that the Imperator just didn’t respect the threat they posed. He was too focused on the bigger picture; he was used to the scale of galaxies and planet clusters, not cities and continents. Such concerns were likely beneath him, and so he assigned his underlings to handle the rest.

Was their scope too narrow? Were they focusing too much on Earth right now and assigning importance to it that wasn’t deserved? At some point, assuming they were still alive…they would need to expand off Earth. There was the Vitakara, the Sectoids, the Andromedon Federation, and the Mutons, all of whom held hundreds of planets, and outnumbered them by a ludicrous amount.

In some way, she had to admit the Imperator was right. Was it really _not_ arrogant to believe that they, who hadn’t even mastered spacecraft yet, could manage to bring down a Collective whose sheer size dwarfed their miniscule one planet? True, they had psions, an Ethereal, soldiers, and Nartha who was doing whatever he could to disrupt things in the Collective, but even still…the odds were _not_ in their favor.

They had a few trump cards left. Japan wasn’t the end, no one really believed that. But it was going to force them to make decisions on where to use them. Eventually, they wouldn’t have any left, and at this stage of the war, could they really afford to use them up too quickly?

She didn’t know. That wasn’t her call.

But the aliens were going to adapt, and at some point, they would decide to finish it, and unless a miracle happened, they wouldn’t be able to solve it.

With those cheery thoughts swirling through her mind, she stared blankly into the darkness, waiting and hoping she might fall back asleep, even if she wasn’t sure she’d really rest.

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

Considering that they were juggling several crises at once, the Commander was not especially amused to hear that Patricia had been telepathically contacted by the Imperator.

Again.

He wasn’t sure if he should feel insulted or concerned that this marked the second time the Imperator had contacted her. Considering he was the Commander of XCOM, he would have expected himself or someone high in ADVENT like Saudia might be a target of the Imperator’s power. That he’d spoken to Patricia twice meant he’d specifically developed an interest in her.

Well, maybe Ethereals just had their favorites. Aegis had done much the same to him, but he figured it was more due to his position than anything else. Still, that begged the question of _why_ the Imperator was contacting Patricia. From what it sounded like, he’d basically just talked to her (again) and made some vague points (again), and then left, even wishing that she fight well.

And in the process brought up a lot of… _interesting…_ information. What the hell was it with Ethereals and just dropping crucial details like it was nothing? First Aegis, then Quisilia, and now the Imperator. It was like they were _trying_ to make it easy for them sometimes.

That being said, this was _not_ the right time for this kind of information. The Japan situation needed to be dealt with, and the Commander knew that the Canadian annexation was going to be executed soon. This was in addition to some reworks in XCOM strategy and helping prepare the Korean defense.

The good news was that this was hopefully going to prompt Aegis to actually act. Caelior was a clear escalation, and they needed to respond in kind. In the meantime, he was instead going to get grilled on some things he’d forgotten to mention. “This alien technology Patricia described,” Vahlen said, eyeing Aegis suspiciously. “What do you know about it?”

If Aegis felt anything regarding the borderline interrogation, he didn’t show it in his tone, body language, or emotions. “Very little,” he answered, apparently honestly. “Our interest is not in archeology or ancient technology. The ruins and scraps we have recovered have not been examined in-depth, since Revelean and Fectorian determined that they were no more superior than our own. They mostly serve as a reminder to us; a symbol of the threat the Synthesized pose, and that it is more than our species that is at stake.”

Patricia rubbed her forehead, sighing. “And you never bothered to try and learn more about it?”

Aegis turned his helmet towards her. “What would the point be, Psion Trask, outside of academia? Time is precious, and while a curious development, the ultimate purpose it serves is likely limited.”

The Commander was grateful to see that none of them were particularly satisfied with that explanation. “ _Likely_ limited?” Shen noted, disapproval clear in his voice. “Then you don’t know for sure.”

A pause. “No, _I_ do not know for sure,” Aegis admitted. “But I can only assume that if it had some value, either the Imperator or Sovereign Ones would have had us investigate.”

“Well, that gives us a goal then,” the Commander said. “If the Collective isn’t interested in this other technology, maybe we can find something from it. I guess then you wouldn’t know _why_ there was one on Mars to begin with?”

Aegis shook his head.

“The Imperator mentioned the device was a repository,” Patricia recalled. “So he has some knowledge. Why he told me that, I don’t know.”

“Question of the hour,” the Commander muttered, leaning on the holotable. “I’m curious as to what his ultimate point was. Was it to say to us that ‘there are more important threats than me’?”

“Possibly,” Aegis said slowly. “Regardless of who wins this conflict, the Synthesized will likely return one day, and they will have to be fought. That will be us, or the Collective. The Imperator, for all his faults, is keenly aware of the threat, though not to the extent I had hoped he would be.”

“That’s a problem to deal with when we win,” the Commander shook his head. “The Synthesized, or any other galactic threat, do not have any bearing on the situation _now_. As of this point, the Collective poses the largest threat, and they need to be removed. _Then_ we can talk about the Synthesized.”

“And these inner galactic species,” Jackson spoke up for the first time. “That the Imperator called them ‘puppets’ is not a good sign.” They all looked to Aegis.

“I am only aware they exist,” Aegis said, shaking his helmet again. “The Imperator made a very clear point that we were not to go anywhere near them until we were prepared. Based on his words, I wonder what exactly he learned, as he no doubt sent at least Sicarius and Quisilia to the inner galaxy. I know of no species outside us who could turn an entire species into ‘puppets’.”

There was a short uncomfortable pause.

The Commander furrowed his eyebrows. “Is it possible that there are other surviving Ethereals?”

“No,” Aegis stated flatly. “If that were the case, it would have not been hidden, even if the Imperator decided they were hostile. I can say for certain that these aliens are _not_ Ethereals.”

“Or there is just as good a chance the Imperator is lying,” Zhang pointed out neutrally. “Whatever he said, he is not simply talking to you because he is bored. This was done purely to get into your head, Patricia, and by extension, all of ours.” He stepped forward. “It does not matter what is beyond the Collective. It does not matter if these alien ruins are explored or not. The Synthesized are not a threat right now.” He nodded towards Aegis. “ _They_ are the only ones we should concern ourselves with. The Ethereals are our enemy. Once they are dead, then we can focus on whatever else this galaxy holds.”

The Commander nodded his approval. “Well said. Interesting as this is, it is _not relevant._ We have _actual_ problems to deal with; namely what we’re going to do about Japan, not to mention Canada.”

There were nods all around the room, although Patricia didn’t look quite so satisfied. The Commander knew that the conversation was going to stick with her for some time, and he couldn’t really blame her. But they needed to move on, and information from a questionable source wasn’t worth dwelling on.

Still, he felt like Aegis knew more than he was letting on. That, however, was a conversation for another time. Preferably when there weren’t several other issues that demanded their attention. “Concerning the new information that the Andromedons have a dedicated aquatic team, I think that we need to develop some kind of response…”

***

_Lancer Operational Command, United States of America_

In Saudia’s view, the situation could be worse.

Conversely, the situation could _always_ be worse.

She realized she was staring at the small holotable for no specific reason, distracted by the recent events. Japan was, predictably, not going over well. The media knew for sure they were pulling out of Japan, and predictably, they were using that to indirectly imply that ADVENT was slowly falling apart, as well as questioning her leadership.

There was no mistake about it, they’d lost. Badly. While the decision to pull out completely perhaps sent the wrong message, it was the smartest move. Everyone of any import agreed, and it was by far the easiest decision she’d had to make throughout this. But they’d been outmaneuvered, outplayed, and outsmarted here. Like ADVENT, the aliens had learned from their mistakes.

She pursed her lips. The Ethereal, Caelior, he was by far the biggest problem. Saudia had been skeptical that the Battlemaster could be topped in terms of threat level, but that was _before_ the alien had thrown a US carrier into Tokyo. Still no one knew if the nuclear reactors on the carrier had gone into meltdown or not, and she doubted that the aliens were going to care much one way or the other.

Laura’s autopsy of _why_ they lost was a step in the right direction, and if nothing else, the woman was good at adapting quickly. But it would take time to actually implement, and implement _well_. Right now they had no idea where the aliens would strike next. America, Russia, and Korea were all valid targets, even China, though that was optimistic.

What complicated matters further was trying to reassure people that the situation was handled, when that was questionable at best. None of them had really gotten any sleep the past few days, and there was the upcoming annexation to deal with.

In short, the situation was _not good_ , but manageable.

She could work with that.

“What are the reports from Japan?” Weekes asked Laura as they finally gathered around the holotable. “If we want to begin harassment operations, we shouldn’t delay.”

“Same as before,” Laura answered, shaking her head. “They seem to be establishing bases, and spreading pretty rapidly. We’re not sure if they’re getting ready to attack again soon or not. We’re preparing for the worst.”

“Regardless of what they’re planning, we need to be proactive,” Elizabeth interjected as she paced. “But Japan is a dead end, I think. They will be expecting strikes there. Perhaps now we should being focusing on Australia, wound them where they don’t expect it.”

“Or we do both,” Saudia said tiredly. “I’m certain XCOM would be willing to help. But I believe Japan would be a greater priority. Whatever happens next, it’s almost certain they’ll be launching an attack from there. We need to know what they’re doing and how.”

Laura leaned back into a wall, her shoulders slumping. “We need to do something soon. I’m about ready to shoot every TV screen that I see if I hear _one more_ idiot commentator wondering ‘what this means for the future of ADVENT’. Maybe I should do an interview, maybe it would calm them down.”

Stein sniffed, her tone flat. “No. The Commander of the ADVENT Military has more important things to do than waste time with those packs of vultures. If you must send someone to placate them, I’m willing to speak to them.”

“No offense, but I don’t think scaring the hell out of them is a valid response,” Weekes interrupted. “Besides, you’re with the Peacekeepers, not military, sorry. I’m sure we could find some means of placation.”

“The Prime Minister?” Elizabeth suggested. “Perhaps the Emperor or one of the Royal Family? They would appear more trustworthy than us to them.”

Saudia nodded in approval. “The Prime Minister understands the situation fairly well. I believe he would be best, and it would especially be reassuring to the Japanese refugees to hear it from their leader.”

“We have another problem we’re going to have to deal with soon,” Weekes interjected. “South Korea needs to be evacuated immediately. At _best_ we hold the aliens at the coast, but I don’t think one major military installation will be enough to hold them back.”

Laura nodded. “Seoul is where the real fight will be. Weekes is right. They need to be evacuated elsewhere.”

All of them knew the obvious answer to that. “North Korea,” Elizabeth finally said. “Everything comes back full circle. Gwan is going to be _thrilled_. Not to mention the South Koreans moving north.”

Laura tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Be that as it may…this could actually be a positive development. If there is anything that will bring the two nations together, them both helping each other will at least help relations. The symbolism of North Korean and South Korean soldiers fighting beside each other is a powerful image.”

“One we should exploit,” Elizabeth nodded.

Laura shot her a distasteful look. “Not everything has to be propaganda, Director.”

“No,” Elizabeth agreed. “But I’ll never turn down the opportunity when it arises.”

“I’ll begin organizing that immediately,” Saudia nodded, mentally adding another task to the massive list in her head. “The sooner that’s started, the better. Has China made any official response?”

“Not publically,” Laura denied. “But we received some official documents from them that revealed they were planning to move their soldiers to reinforce the most vulnerable cities. I suppose that is their way of saying they’re preparing for an attack as well. Nothing more than that though.”

“A shame,” Saudia said, looking down at the holomap. “At some point they have to come to the table. They can’t fight this war on their own and they know it.”

“I suspect once China is attacked, their tune will change,” Weekes shrugged. “Honestly, they are not something we should be concerned about right now. They stay out of our way, we stay out of theirs. We need to get the PRIEST Program up and running stat.”

“Don’t worry,” Laura soothed, her tone artificially controlled. “Initial recruitment is already underway. Everything related to this has been accelerated.”

“Speaking of which,” Elizabeth interjected. “XCOM just forwarded something… _interesting_. Several interesting things in fact.” She began tapping her tablet, biting her lower lip in concentration. “They sent schematics for some kind of psionic training device, a kind of focus tool of sorts, at least from the description. And an… _interesting_ …amount of information on Caelior.”

“When you say interesting…?” Stein prompted.

“I mean interesting,” Elizabeth said, puzzled. “His general personality, his noted strengths, weaknesses. Stuff that I don’t think they should have. For that matter, there has been a _lot_ of stuff they recently sent that was oddly _advanced_.”

Saudia cast a sidelong glance at Elizabeth. “That isn’t surprising, at least not to me. Remember there was at least one alien defector, and they have an entire team of Vitakara they took prisoner. I’m not surprised they’re exploiting them. Where else would they get that information from, an Ethereal?”

“I’m not daft,” Elizabeth muttered. “But that doesn’t match what we’ve seen, and know about the Ethereals. They are very secretive, even in their own Collective, they don’t reveal themselves unless they think it’s necessary. How does a random team of scientists and a traitor spy know personal details like this?”

“Does it matter?” Weekes asked.

“Depends,” Elizabeth said slowly. “It could mean they know more than they’re telling us. Even now.”

Laura sighed. “Based on what I know of XCOM, that’s always going to always be the case. They only recently decided it would be a good idea for us to have psions. They’re always going to have secrets, and frankly, we really don’t have a lot of resources to determine how much they really know.”

“I agree,” Saudia said, adding a dismissive wave. “There is also one final matter to discuss: Canada.”

“Oh dear,” Laura sighed once more. “I can’t be the only one to see that the timing of this is _problematic_ to say the least. It won’t exactly _help_ the situation.”

“Assuming you care about PR,” Stein commented bluntly, her eyes flashing. “Canada has proven to be unreasonable. We don’t have time to put up with their childish antics and they are denying us support purely on a political vendetta. That will not be tolerated.”

“While I wouldn’t have put it _quite_ like that, I agree,” Weekes nodded. “Regardless of optics, Canada will be a _massive_ boon to handling North America. With it under our control we can mount a concentrated push against the West Coast. We also get the resources their country has, and send a very clear message.”

“Authorization to Annex Canada just passed the Congress,” Saudia nodded. “All that we need to do is execute the plan. The media will have a field day, of course, but it’s all in presentation.” She straightened up. “I suspect that the population will be more accepting of our decision when they see what the Canadian government is _actually_ defending.”

A smile graced Elizabeth’s face. “Their parody of an intelligence agency will be greatly beneficial. Despite what the good Prime Minister has the world believe, there are those in Canada who are rather… _irritated_ …that the Prime Minister is acting like a tree-hugging moron. People I’ve reached out to.”

She tapped a few buttons on the holotable. “Benjamin Varys, a computer forensics expert currently employed with the Ottawa Police service. He’s a rather vocal opponent of Murphy, and since the good Prime Minister has made several questionable cuts to the police as a whole, there likely will not be much resistance to our occupation.”

Elizabeth set her tablet down. “Where Benjamin comes in is taking down the city grids. Much as most governments try to hide it, there is very little security on power grids and power plants in general. Thankfully no one usually exploits these, but for us it means that we can reliably take down the majority of the country provided we can access the plant computers. Benjamin has provided us a program to give us complete control, and has assured us that it will work. He supposedly tested it out on the Capitol Building grid.”

Saudia nodded. “Excellent. I’ll be sure to commend him once we take the country. Is there anyone else?”

Elizabeth pressed several more buttons. “Indeed, and this one is potentially the most important.” A new figure popped up, an older man with graying hair and a slightly ragged beard. “Logan Campbell, Commander of the Canadian Army. A useful figure, as you can imagine, and he’s apparently been butting heads with the legislature regarding the entire invasion. It wasn’t hard to convince him to work with us.”

Stein nodded approvingly. “Even in Canada, patriots do exist.”

“This is significant,” Weekes said, inclining his head to Elizabeth respectfully. “If he orders the Army to stand down, that removes the majority of what little threat they pose to us.”

Saudia glanced at Elizabeth. “While this is certainly good news, I assume they want something in return?”

“Yes, but it’s perfectly reasonable as far as I’m concerned,” Elizabeth confirmed. “Benjamin wants to work in the Peacekeepers, preferably in high-activity zones.”

“No issue,” Stein said immediately. “I would be more than happy to accommodate someone like him.”

“There is a bit of a complication,” Elizabeth admitted. “He’s a paraplegic. Front-line work might not be suitable for him-“

“Please,” Stein interrupted. “That isn’t a concern for me. Prosthetics have advanced to the point where his condition could be negated. I dare say it would be a positive image beyond the fact that I get a competent Peacekeeper, since all of you care about optics. Tell him he’ll get what he wants.”

“Noted,” Elizabeth nodded. “As for Logan, he wants to command the Canadian Legion when the military is reorganized. Laura?”

“Reasonable,” she agreed with a nod. “It would certainly be better to have one of their own in command; tell him his request will be granted.”

“Then it’s settled,” Saudia stated, looking at all of them. “Make the final preparations. I want Canada under our control within the week. Remember that we have the aliens to deal with as well, there is no time to delay.”

They all saluted her, and she adjourned the meeting, feeling rather pleased about the progress they’d made.

A shame Canada had to be annexed, but it was probably for the best.  

***

_ADVENT Command, Switzerland_

The Commander set the tablet down and looked up at Saudia, giving a short nod. “A good plan, from what I can see. While there will be people who have issues with annexation, I suspect more people are going to be furious that the Canadians were even attempting to remain neutral in this situation.”

“The larger problem is going to be gauging the Canadian population response,” Saudia said, scratching her forehead. “Elizabeth seems to think they’re docile enough, but they might not take kindly to our occupation. They might decide to speak out in ways we can’t exactly legally stop.”

The Commander snorted. He wondered if she was being sarcastic or if her years in EXALT had made her blind to certain perceptions. “ADVENT is taking over the country. I would be more surprised if there _isn’t_ an outcry. That being said, I don’t think the people are content to just sit by as the aliens kill us. Murphy thrives on public approval and his image. Destroy those, and the population will be too distracted to do anything.”

“The alien threat is damning,” Saudia nodded thoughtfully. “But for his idiotic ideals, he is annoyingly consistent. Much as I don’t like it, his response isn’t out of character.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Then there is a simple tactic: Fabrication. If you believe that the soon-to-be deposed Prime Minister will retain some measure of influence, destroy whatever goodwill he had. It is allowed in the Advent Directive in these circumstances.”

“I’m not sure that will even be necessary,” Saudia countered. “While effective, I doubt that such a tactic is the best option. Everyone has something they want to hide, and I’m sure there is something we could exploit, should we even need it. Fabrication could backfire, and this is a case where I’m not sure the risk would be worth it.” Saudia shrugged. “I’ll have Elizabeth look into that regardless. Returning to the primary subject, I want you to be there when I announce the operation. The world needs to see us united on this, and the support of XCOM publically would be useful.”

“On that we are agreed,” the Commander confirmed. “I’ll be there. Although I doubt you need our support for the operation itself.”

“No,” Saudia dismissed with a wave. “The Canadian military does not pose a threat, and Commander Logan will salvage the majority of the Army. I expect resistance to be minimal at best, and in the end, I don’t know how many soldier and police will be willing to die for a leader who has repeatedly dismissed them over his career.”

The Commander was rather curious to see how accurate that really was. Patriotism was a thing, but it was typically constrained to America and wasn’t nearly as popular in the rest of the world, outside of dictatorships. Canada had never really embraced military patriotism or displayed extreme national pride. He imagined fighting for a leader who wished you didn’t exist was, in fact, one of the truest forms of patriotism.

But patriotism was doing what was best for the country, not for the leader.

If a leader didn’t respect the purpose the military and law enforcement served, then they didn’t deserve their loyalty.

Ironically, in a perfect world Murphy would be the ideal leader. The issue was that this _wasn’t_ an ideal world, and to pretend otherwise was delusional. War would never cease, nor would crime. It was simply a matter of mitigation and defense. To willingly ignore the realities of the world was irresponsible and naïve.

The Prime Minister was undoubtedly a good man. Just not a very smart one.

“The international response will be interesting,” the Commander said, setting the tablet down. “I wonder if it will increase membership.”

“The southern half of South America and Africa are really the only areas where we don’t have influence,” Saudia said, bringing up the holomap. “I suspect that the response will be limited, especially from China.”

“China has gone out of their way to avoid provoking you,” the Commander noted, appraising the map. “It might not be a bad idea to try and open some kind of negotiations with them now. They aren’t idiots, and with the aliens right outside them, they may listen to reason.”

“Unlikely,” Saudia disagreed flatly. “Not yet at least. While they aren’t being deliberately provocative, they have unofficially made their stance clear. I have no problem with that, provided it stays that way.” She pointed at Europe. “I expect that the EU will fully collapse within a few months after this. France leaving will start a domino effect, and once the UK joins ADVENT, that spells the end for the EU.”

“You don’t think they’ll condemn this?” The Commander asked, curious.

“No,” she answered, a grim smile on her face. “I suspect they’ll be too scared to officially say anything, for fear of being annexed by us. Baseless for the moment, but the sentiment will be useful if it brings the rest of Europe into the fold. The only critics of this move will be the media and certain parties on the internet.”

The Commander looked at the serious figure of the Chancellor, staring over the holomap with an expression he could only describe as _controlled_ on her face. He frowned. “Fear isn’t why we want this to work. It has its uses, but it won’t build anything sustaining. While I would never base decisions on public perception, I think that it might not be a bad idea to focus on some of the more _positive_ aspects of ADVENT. Neuter the media’s bite with the truth, all they have to talk about is how _bad_ things are, and the so-called ‘imperialism’ and ‘brutality’ of ADVENT.”

Saudia cracked a smile and made a show of rolling her eyes. “The issue is that they are under no obligation to do it. Their only strict guideline, that _you_ put in, was that they had to be factual. Technically, none of them have broken the law yet, and are subtly rebranding their stations to be ‘opinion’ based, which allows them to get away with direct criticism and lies.”

“Figures they’d find a way to abuse it,” the Commander sighed. “I also believe I put in some additional requirements to lessen that. Although those would be extreme steps.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to kill them off yet,” Saudia agreed slowly. “However, the issue is making them irrelevant. Too many people still listen to them, and while our own state-run platform is doing…decent…it’s boring. It is not easy to get people to care about the daily decisions and facts because the truth is boring. There is a reason the media has become sensationalized.”

The Commander thought for a moment. “Perhaps you’re handling them the wrong way. It’s about reaching the right audience, and the audience that we _will_ need is the younger generations, and we _do_ know that their preferred method of consuming entertainment is through the Internet; social media specifically.”

Saudia looked up, her eyes sightless as she thought. “Internet personalities are influential in their own right. It is an untapped market.”

“Just an idea,” the Commander said. “Propaganda has been lax, and that should change. We need to keep boosting recruitment, as well as focusing on the aliens and the heroic ADVENT and XCOM soldiers fighting for the planet. Dealing with the aliens is simpler than making the population want to support you. No matter how good you are, the majority are prone to manipulation by any party. They must be controlled by ADVENT, not foreign or media influences.”

“I think we can both agree on that,” Saudia said, rolling her shoulders. She was silent for a few moments. “It’s interesting. I thought that it would be…simpler…than this. I always wanted to unite the world, but there are factors that I hadn’t even thought to consider. Had our original plan succeeded, I suspect we would have lost control within years. We were too arrogant and would not have trusted anyone but ourselves with any sort of real power.” She chuckled. “Quite the opposite of reality. Oddly enough, I suspect you were the best thing that could happen to us.”

“We have similar goals,” the Commander answered. “And out of everyone, you were best suited to try and undertake this task. But you’re right. You would have been deposed eventually. Fortunate I suppose, that you understood the need to unite.”

“Mhmm, yes,” Saudia said softly. “I’ve wondered, what happens should we win? You are quite adamant that my place is here now, but I believe you never specified what would happen to me after, or anyone in EXALT for that matter.”

The Commander simply looked at her for a few moments. She did appear genuinely curious, and seemed resigned to whatever answer he gave. “That ultimately depends on if you do what is needed,” he answered. “Defend humanity to the best of your ability, and you have nothing to worry about. Fail, and I suspect you won’t live much longer.”

She gave a single nod. “Fair. I suppose it wouldn’t make much sense to dispose of someone useful, simply based on their past.”

Now the Commander gave a nod. “If we were judged solely on past crimes, I would likely be dead. As far as I’m concerned, everything is reset. Our pasts are not important, only what we do now. Defeating the aliens is all that matters. We can sort out the aftermath when that is accomplished.”

“Focusing on the present is best,” Saudia agreed. “I’m glad you understand that.”

While he’d meant what he said, they both knew that even if their pasts were ignored, they would never be, nor should be, forgotten.

***

_Riyadh ADVENT Command, Saudi Arabia_

It had been…she didn’t even know how long it had been since she’d had a solid drink. Too long. At the same time, it still wasn’t enough to really help her.

If there was one thing Betos utterly hated, it was higher-ups considering their work done, giving a victory speech, and turning over a hostile country to them. The Commander had fucked right off after the battle, leaving the city in her immediate control. _Thanks Commander, really glad you had such confidence in me_.

She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or not. The first days had been, predictably, chaotic, as the surrendered soldiers were processed, and she tried organizing some kind of system to let the citizens know what was going on. That had predictably gone over _very_ well, and while the majority did seem to largely accept their new reality, there was a section that turned violent.

In the grand scheme of things, there hadn’t been much damage done. So far the death toll was up to fifteen, and quite a lot of property damage, not counting the fact that there were an unknown amount of civilians also caught in the suicide blasts, or simply were in the line of fire.

Then the Peacekeepers had arrived, which had initially been welcome, until she actually saw how they operated. These weren’t standard Peacekeepers either. SSR Officers, in heavy sleek black armor made up a considerable amount of the Peacekeeping force. For all intents and purposes, they were in charge of securing the city. She was just the Marshal of the Garrison, and terrorism was not her job.

Betos had always moved on quickly whenever they’d taken a town or city, waiting for the Peacekeepers to show up, and then moving onto the next destination. She’d never actually _seen_ how they operated.

Now that she had, she wondered who had actually written up the guidelines for Peacekeepers.

ADVENT had more than a zero-tolerance policy for terrorism; anyone remotely associated with identified terrorists was a potential target. The SSR were not subtle, and Betos woke up to reports that the SSR had conducted multiple raids, and been in several shootouts throughout the night. She’d seen them fight once, and these guys were clearly special forces, and utterly unafraid of the threat these terrorists posed.

They didn’t negotiate, and they didn’t take prisoners. A small group of rebels had taken a few families hostage and the SSR had stormed the building anyway and killed them, though weren’t fast enough to save some of the hostages.

The regular Peacekeepers were not much better. They were the most visible face of ADVENT, but they acted more like soldiers than law enforcement. Betos suspected many of these people were foreign to the region, and deeply suspicious of anyone who even so much as held a conversation. It wasn’t uncommon for Peacekeepers to go up to pairs or groups of citizens and ask for identification. Those who didn’t have it were immediately directed to the ADVENT Registry that had been enacted soon after the Peacekeepers had arrived.

Betos took another drink, sitting alone in her thoughts. It had been one thing to hear about the stories of Peacekeepers, the rumors all of them had dismissed as exaggerated. But that largely appeared to not be the case, and honestly, some part of her didn’t believe it was wholly unjustified. It ultimately worked. There was almost no kind of sedition anymore and the SSR had left, and sent a few more units of Peacekeepers.

Things were slowly returning to normal, and there were apparently ‘great plans’ for restructuring the entire region.

The entire situation had made her deeply uncomfortable. The Peacekeepers had been doing their job, but it still stung when she walked the streets, and any of the citizens drew back in terror. It shouldn’t be like that. ADVENT should inspire hope and respect.

Not fear.

But the damage was done, and she doubted that they would ever fully trust any of them, even if ADVENT ultimately helped them. She didn’t blame them, in their situation she’d be scared too. Hell, she _was_ scared just how far they were willing to go. She swirled her drink around her glass. _I’m sorry,_ she thought as an apology. _I would have done things differently_.

Would it have worked? Maybe, maybe not. Not much point thinking about it now. Sure, the terrorists were gone, but it came at a price she felt was too high.

“A bit early for that, isn’t it?” Mox asked, coming in and sitting down opposite her. They were alone in what passed for her quarters, which was just a bed and a table, of which she was now sitting at. He was one of the only ones who could stop by without an invitation; which people _always_ got the wrong idea from.

“I’ve now got a city that’s terrified of us, and a bunch of Peacekeepers who don’t listen to me,” she answered bluntly. “I’m having a fucking drink.”

Mox’s lips twitched at that. “I hear you. This whole situation isn’t good.”

“Understatement,” Betos muttered, taking a long gulp. “ADVENT doesn’t understand that sometimes you _don’t_ send in the damn SSR when there is a _small_ amount of terrorist activity. They only made it worse.”

“Seems to be the standard ADVENT procedure,” Mox agreed bitterly. “First, do as much damage as possible and crush your enemies into dirt, then make them terrified of you, then actually try to help them. It’s an inverse of whatever that oath is that doctors take.”

“Yeah,” Betos muttered, resting her forehead in one of her hands. “And there is exactly nothing I can do about it except advise. It’s not like the Peacekeepers are doing anything illegal. The fact that this _is_ legal is a problem to me.”

“You could always resign,” Mox suggested. “Helsa, what are we actually fighting for right now? Who are we actually working for?”

“Supposedly fighting against the aliens,” Betos shrugged. “That’s what we’re supposed to be doing. Right now it seems mostly like whoever ADVENT doesn’t like at the moment. How long until China does something ADVENT doesn’t like. As for who?” She took another drink. “Really only for my soldiers. You. Even the people that hate us. Someone has to try to help them, might as well be me. It’s clear that ADVENT doesn’t care about people, only statistics.”

She waved the hand holding her glass aimlessly. “You don’t see the reports I get sent. I’m already getting orders to protect engineering teams who are setting up or renovating new oil refineries. ADVENT Intelligence is setting up propaganda campaigns targeting specific citizens based on psyche profiles for recruitment. ADVENT has _plans_ for here, they don’t care about the people here, but they are going to put them to work. Weapon construction, city fortification, each person is another resource to use. It shouldn’t _be_ like this.”

Mox cocked his head. “So quit. The only reason I’m still here is because you need every bit of support you can. Far as I can tell, no one else even remotely cares about the fact that we’re working for a dictator.”

Betos rubbed her eyes. “I’m not sure I’d go _that_ far-“

“Really?” Mox raised an eyebrow, his tone bitter. “A dictator suppresses anything they don’t like, they rule by fear, they impose their will on the people who can’t fight back. They exploit and use whatever they can. And when they are smart, they are terrifying. This Chancellor, and everyone working with her, are systematically destroying anything resembling discourse. It is their way or off to the dungeon for you. These people weren’t even _elected,_ and now they’re essentially in charge of the world.”

His jaw was clenched as he continued. “The Middle East started this, but it gave ADVENT an excuse to come here. They had a reason, even if we disagree with the methods. How long until they invade some country under the guise of simply refusing to help them as much as they’d like? You might have mentioned China in jest, but I think that’s not too far off.”

“I don’t know,” Betos admitted. “They keep saying they aren’t tyrants, authoritarians or whatever. They do something like that and that is exposed as a lie. People can’t ignore that.”

“And what are we doing here?” Mox asked. “ADVENT doesn’t deserve you trying to help the people. And you can’t change anything on your own. Listen, you _aren’t the only one_. I’ve been talking to the other officers and soldiers. They aren’t happy with how ADVENT is doing things, they’re furious at seeing what the Peacekeepers are doing.”

“And what do you want me to do?” She finally exploded, slamming her glass on the table furiously. “Desert? Quit? Do you _want_ everything to get worse? I’ll probably be _executed_ , and probably you as well, since ADVENT Intelligence doesn’t fuck around with loyalty. You aren’t exactly _subtle_. Resigning would just be cowardly, and I’d be shuffled somewhere quietly.”

“That depends on two things,” Mox said softly. “Where you go…and how many go with you.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “If you think anyone else would _desert_ , I think-“

“Why?” Mox crossed his arms. “You know what I’ve found out? That every one of them thinks they’re alone in how they feel. All of them feel they’re trapped, thinking there’s something wrong with how this is being done. But no one ever talks about it, because they don’t want to get reported. They don’t want to seem _disloyal_. They are loyal to _you_ , Helsa, _not_ ADVENT.” The last word he spat out. “If you leave, I believe they would follow. Your soldiers are good people. Good people don’t belong in ADVENT.”

She drunkenly chuckled. “Let’s say I actually did something that stupid. On the off chance ADVENT _didn’t_ execute us on sight, then where the fuck would we go?”

Mox clasped his hands together. “Africa.”

Betos coughed. “Sorry?”

“ADVENT has ignored Africa for whatever reason,” Mox continued. “But I know some people there. They haven’t ignored ADVENT, but they’re _really_ worried that they might come. But they’re not united, even if some talks are taking place. If you come with even a portion of your soldiers, that might be the catalyst needed to unite them. It’s only a matter of time before ADVENT remembers them.”

“ _Or_ ,” Betos pointed out. “I’d just bring ADVENT down on them. I don’t want to put them in a position where they either have to turn us over or face ADVENT invading. Unlike the US, ADVENT won’t settle for doing _nothing_.”

Mox shrugged. “There are ways around that. They have to know where you’d be, for starters. Can’t be justified in attacking, if they don’t know for sure. I guarantee that the leaders of these nations would lie to keep you safe. And honestly, there isn’t much choice.”

Betos leaned back in her chair, head swimming. “I’m way too drunk for my own good, since I’m actually considering this.”

Mox stood. “Keep thinking on it. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand with you. But remember that you’re not alone.” He left her alone then, letting her contemplate what they’d said.

Whatever happened, there would be no second chances.

She’d have to think about it, preferably when she was actually sober.

***

_Australia, Northern Territory Resistance Camp_

It would have been more of a celebration, if the news hadn’t come that Japan had officially fallen, but even still, Abby was fairly happy with their progress so far here. They’d freed two more small towns, and the Chronicler had more soldiers for whatever his plan was. Harper was happy, and had allowed an unofficial celebration of their progress.

Abby was personally concerned about Japan, but she wasn’t _overly_ surprised it had fallen. This time the aliens would have probably applied overwhelming force, and defeat was inevitable. From the short conversation she’d had with Zhang, ADVENT was going to preserve the majority of their forces, and move the main battleground to Korea.

The biggest issue, he’d said, was another Ethereal. One called Caelior, some kind of telekinetic specialist. Based on his description, an Ethereal that powerful was a problem.

Obviously.

Still, Zhang had been pleased at how much they’d accomplished, and he had insinuated that both XCOM _and_ ADVENT may be conducting dedicated strikes in Australia. _That_ had also made Harper very happy. Once the major cities were liberated, that would open up a lot more options without worrying about too much collateral damage.

“No drink?” Joseph asked, walking up to her. “Not much for parties, are you?”

She gave him a sidelong look. “That’s a rather large presumption. Or is this your attempt at a pick-up line?”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced. “Nah, just noticed you aren’t doing much. You just stand there and watch everything. Most people would try mingling a little bit. Or at least trying not to seem so conspicuous.”

“Well, you figured that out,” Abby shrugged. “Besides, I have quite a bit on my mind. Japan, and what’s next here.”

“Ah, right,” he nodded, turning a little more serious. “Did anyone you know die?”

Abby shook her head. “No. But then again, I don’t really know a lot of the soldiers anymore. I saw a bunch of names, but none of them really registered.”

“Mhmm, I suppose that’s for the best,” Joseph agreed, leaning against the wall by her. “I don’t really know a lot of people in general. Well, I _do_ , but not people I know well. Friends are something of a luxury.”

“They certainly seem that way now,” Abby agreed grimly. “I’m not sure how many people still remember me in XCOM. Everyone I knew in XCOM Intelligence died. Don’t really have anyone now.”

“Shame,” Joseph commented. “At least I’ve got a family, and I have people I trust. You really don’t have anyone?”

“My parents are still alive,” Abby shrugged. “I haven’t contacted them in years. We never got along, and I had no desire to talk to them again. I assume they’re fine. Had a couple friends in med school, but they moved on.”

“Do you want some unsolicited advice?” Joseph asked.

Abby sighed. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t know whatever problems you have with your parents,” Joseph continued, sounding interestingly genuine as he talked. “But I would at least let them know you’re alive. People can change over time, and in times like this, well…” he trailed off. “Past differences seem more trivial. Just something to think about.”

She thought about if for a few seconds. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

“Partially, yes,” Joseph answered. “Though not in a negative way. Whatever you think of EXALT, family was an unbreakable pillar. Parents only wanted what was best for their children. I wouldn’t be where I am without them, and they are the only ones even today I can unconditionally trust. That’s special to me. It’s sad when others don’t have that for whatever reason.”

Abby felt somewhat envious at that. “Maybe I’ll do that,” she relented. “Whenever this assignment is done.”

“Well, at the rate we’re going, it might not be too much longer,” he said, looking at the groups of soldiers. “So, I’m curious. What’s your impression of our mutual elderly friend?”

Abby was careful not to betray anything. “Sorry?”

He motioned to the Chronicler who was chatting with Harper as they shared a drink. “Him. You two have talked, so I assume you know some things. Maybe he even told you his name. We just called him the Chronicler.”

“No luck with me,” Abby admitted. “He introduced himself the same way. What do you know about him?”

“Only what everyone knew,” Joseph answered wistfully. “An expert historian, been around as long as anyone can remember. It’s like he doesn’t age, and is extremely smart. His goal is apparently to chronicle the ‘true history of the world’ or something like that. More of a personal project, but you’d probably find it fascinating. My guess is that he’s still doing it. Far as I know he’s friends with Saudia, and he has a higher clearance than almost anyone, even in ADVENT Intelligence.”

Given what she knew about him, that didn’t surprise her. “I’m not sure I’d want to know just how much history differs from what I know.”

“I can understand that,” Joseph chuckled. “I mean, I don’t think people would be happy knowing that everything they understood was a lie. So, I’m curious just how much you know. Pick an event, and I’ll tell you what we did.”

Abby frowned. “Isn’t that against…some kind of secrecy agreement you have? You really want me to guess? And why would I even believe you?”

“XCOM and EXALT are working together,” he dismissed easily. “Besides, this is ancient history. I doubt you could do anything with it, and if anyone would believe you. As for trusting me? Well, that’s up to you.”

“Alright, I’ll play along,” Abby nodded, trying to think of a non-obvious question. “The American Revolution.”

His eyes lit up. “I like that. Most people wouldn’t go back that far. Let’s see…” he tapped his chin. "Well, we were _very_ different back then. Honestly, EXALT, or the _Illuminati_ as we were known then, we were more the secretive hired assassins who had _very_ wealthy backers. Monarchies had mixed results with infiltration, but we saw potential in a democracy. In short, we identified some people who we thought would be useful, and convinced them to rebel.”

He smiled as he recounted the tale. “We didn’t invest heavily until it was clear that a certain George Washington gave the American forces a good chance of victory. Washington was not one of us, of course, but certain allies of his were. Benjamin Franklin was one, and he provided Washington with our soldiers. Don’t bother trying to look them up. Even most of the American soldiers didn’t know they existed, but the assassination, poisoning, and general sabotage of the British forces ultimately guaranteed victory. Despite what history says, the Revolution was never in danger of failure. When we backed it, their success was guaranteed.”

Considering what she knew about EXALT, that wasn’t as shocking as it might have been. Assuming Joseph was telling the truth, they really _had_ been around centuries. “Why do I think this was part of a larger plan?”

“Because it _was_ ,” Joseph emphasized. “This was part of an operation to lessen the power of the monarchy. It was difficult and risky to properly manipulate, and the concept we felt was outdated. You will notice that America steadily increased in power, largely thanks to us, and we took action elsewhere. The French Revolution comes to mind, and we were rather satisfied with the result. The last remnants of the monarchy were systematically abolished over time, thanks in part to us.”

“Huh,” was all she said. She was now curious about what the Chronicler had written about. Perhaps she could ask him about it sometime. “So, how far back does EXALT actually go?”

“All the way back to the Crusades at the very least,” Joseph answered. “Although records are…scarce. I don’t think it’s remotely comparable. At some point they decided to create a Chronicler position, and that’s what their job is. I think the seventeenth century was the first time an actual line of documents were created, detailing various events and operations.”

So that would put the Chronicler at…four hundred _years_?

How could he possibly be alive? Did psionics extend life that much?

“The more you know,” Abby said quietly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he said with a flashed smile. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to mingle some more. Let me know if you want more of the history of the world being shared. I’ve never gotten the chance to tell anyone before. I like it.”

Abby gave him a wan smile. “I’ll be sure and let you know.”

He gave a mock salute with two straight fingers, and strode off, leaving her with a lot of questions running through her mind. If nothing else, he was interesting to talk to. More straightforward than the Chronicler at any rate.

Abby wondered just what his _actual_ plan was. Because he was clearly hiding something.

***

_The Praesidium, Office of the Commander_

The three women before him were in their regular XCOM fatigues, although Gloria really only had some loose garments to hide the extent of her cybernetics as a result of the MEC conversion. Liliyane had fully recovered, and he could sense that she was somewhat apprehensive about what she was being called up for, and was definitely a little fidgety.

Jasmine on the other hand emulated her MEC comrade, in her stoic stance, simply waiting for him to begin. “At ease,” he told them, setting down the tablet he had been holding. He’d been reviewing their profiles, and from what he could tell, there likely wouldn’t be many issues. Gloria was not an issue, since he doubted she would care as much as the result of her conversion, but Jasmine and Liliyane might have stronger feelings.

They did deserve to know beforehand that Canada was being annexed, and more importantly, _why_. While he doubted they would do something drastic, blindsiding them without so much as a warning was something he could not justify. It wasn’t as though they were going to warn the government.

“What did you want from us, Commander?” Jasmine asked, her unusually grey eyes focused intently on him.

“Seconded,” Liliyane added.

The Commander hesitated. “How much are you aware of the current relationship between Canada and ADVENT?”

Liliyane glanced over at Gloria and Jasmine, clearly wanting them to answer first. “I have not been updating myself on the current situation,” Gloria said in her monotone. “I have not received any information from the Canadian government or military, nor am I familiar with current diplomatic and previous efforts.”

“The Prime Minister doesn’t seem to like ADVENT much,” Jasmine said, giving a more Human answer, although she was similarly confused. “Last I saw, relations were strained. Not hostile, but strained.”

Liliyane absentmindedly ran her hand through her cropped brown hair. “Eh, I don’t know much either. But I know you’re aware that I got authorization to be recalled, should I have taken it from the Canadian Army. That was weird, and I clearly turned it down, but that told me that they were offering me an out…though I didn’t know why.”

The Commander focused on her. “You never attempted to figure out why?”

“Why?” Liliyane shrugged. “Canada will come around eventually, and we need to fight the aliens. Even if the Prime Minister isn’t doing anything, I don’t want it to seem like there aren’t _any_ Canadians that care about this.”

The Commander nodded. It matched up with what he’d suspected. He knew Liliyane was an immigrant from the Philippines, and in his experience, immigrants were sometimes the strongest patriots he knew. Not a surprise she wanted to represent Canada in the best light possible. He was not looking forward to explaining the _actual_ situation.

“The short version is that the relationship between Canada and ADVENT is much worse than is known publicaly,” the Commander revealed, his gaze sweeping over all of them. “For all intents and purposes, Canada has denied ADVENT any sort of aid or support whatsoever. They cite disagreements with how ADVENT is run, and mistakenly believe it to be an authoritarian and oppressive government.”

Jasmine furrowed her eyebrows. “While ADVENT is not exactly the same level of freedom as even the previous United States, and Canada, calling it that seems…inaccurate.”

“Prime Minister Jace Murphy is noted as a pacifist, anti-military, anti-police, and far left political affiliation,” Gloria suddenly said in the same tone. “Due to ADVENT restricting violent protest and pro-alien propaganda, as well as an advanced and expanded military, with clear authority within the ADVENT government; factors lead me to believe his opposition stems from idealism and personal morals, and not facts.” A pause. “Prior to my conversion, I know I did not like him.”

“Hey, Murphy’s not a bad guy,” Liliyane protested. “Although he didn’t have many friends in the military, and admittedly made some decisions that made us angry. He’s an idealist, nothing wrong with that.”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter,” the Commander shook his head. “In light of the recent losses in Japan, and continued alien aggression, that Canada is refusing to cooperate under any circumstance is a major issue to ADVENT.” He paused. “Within twenty-four hours, Chancellor Vyandar will be announcing that ADVENT will annex Canada, and it will become a member state of ADVENT, and the current administration will be taken into custody.”

Gloria had no physical or emotional response whatsoever. Jasmine stiffened suddenly, and the color drained from Liliyane’s face. “What?” She asked in a small voice. “ _What?”_

“Was the Prime Minister even aware this could happen?” Jasmine practically demanded, taking a step forward. “How strong of an attempt at diplomacy was there?”

“The Prime Minister was well aware of the possibility,” the Commander answered calmly, noting that while two of the three were shocked, that was it. For now. “And Saudia attempted several times to renegotiate an agreement, and was flatly rejected each time. There is proof, which she will be releasing when she announces the operation.”

“Fuck,” Liliyane breathed. “Is…is there no other way?”

“No,” The Commander answered.

Jasmine rubbed her forehead. “I wanted Canada to join the fight. But not like this.”

“No one wanted it like this,” the Commander said gently. “But there isn’t a choice. If Canada will not work with ADVENT, then there is little option. No action is not possible. Saudia has assured me that the casualties will be kept to a minimum, and they will be accepting any surrendering Canadian forces.”

There were a few moments of silence. “XCOM is supporting this, I guess?” Liliyane said, taking a few breaths.

The Commander nodded. “We are. XCOM will not participate, but in light of the circumstances, ADVENT is justified in annexation. This is the sole fault of the government, and Saudia realizes that. Should it go according to plan, Canada will be a full member state within several months, with full voting and legislative rights.”

“Small comfort, I guess,” Jasmine sighed. “Damn it! They don’t stand a chance if they fight!”

“If it goes well, that won’t happen,” the Commander said. “Commander Logan Campbell will be assisting ADVENT in securing the country. I think you know him, Mrs. Stark.”

Liliyane’s lips were a thin line. “Yes, I do. Not surprised, really. He’s hated Murphy for years. I know there are a lot in the military that feel the same way. I suppose he’ll order the Army to stand down, and I’d also guess there will be a lot of others that follow suit. Murphy is not someone you want to potentially die for.”

“I hope that they see it that way,” the Commander agreed. “But I thought you should be aware before the operation commences.”

Jasmine took a breath. “I…thank you, Commander. I wouldn’t exactly call it good news, but I’m glad you told us.”

“As am I,” Liliyane said, rubbing her eyes. “Just…gah, why would he be this stupid? He didn’t strike me as an idiot!”

“I don’t think he is,” the Commander said. “Not really. But he doesn’t accept the reality of the situation, and his own biases are affecting his judgement. There is little that can be done to change that.”

“And now Canada will pay the price for his pride,” Liliyane said sadly. “Hopefully ADVENT isn’t too…harsh.”

“Unlikely,” the Commander reassured her. “This isn’t the Middle East, and the population is not violent, and the military and law enforcement will not want to die for nothing. Like I said, should things go well, it will be resolved within a few months.”

“Then we should hope that the timetable is accurate,” Gloria said. “I estimate that when the Collective learns of the annexation, they will classify Canada as a threat and act accordingly.”

The Commander nodded. “Likely. But that will take time, and in that time, we can prepare. So will there be any issues?”

Liliyane shook her head, and Jasmine followed suit. “This can be laid at the feet of the Prime Minister,” Jasmine said flatly. “Even if I had issues with it, you are not ADVENT. We’re XCOM. We fight aliens and for humanity now, not just one nation. That you didn’t hide this is something I won’t forget, and neither will Lily I think.”

“Seconded,” Liliyane said emphatically. “You’ll have no issues from us. Our loyalty is still firmly with humanity and XCOM.”

“There are no changes to my parameters,” Gloria added. “Priority threat is still the Collective. No additional information has changed that.”

The Commander felt rather proud. Any who could put the greater good above their past loyalties were those he was proud to have with him. “I appreciate that,” he told them. “You are dismissed.”

All the soldiers saluted, and then exited his office, leaving him alone; waiting until the time came to begin the operation.

***

_Fort McCoy, Wisconsin_

Roman had never been to the United States before, and he really didn’t think he’d seen enough to give an opinion one way or another, since the _moment_ the Middle East had been wrapped up, he, and quite a few other teams, had been redeployed to the United States, and had spent the entire time running through a lot of training exercises.

He was slightly miffed that they hadn’t gotten a decent break. If he was coming to America, he wanted to experience it a _little_ bit.

That being said, it was before Japan, and that had spooked all of them. If they needed to skip out on some vacation time, then so be it. Still, the training exercises were definitely preparing them for something, but what that something was they hadn’t bothered to tell them yet.

Until now.

Roman wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly.

“Could you repeat that?” He asked his immediate superior officer, Corporal Hawkins, a comically short American woman whose face seemed perpetually irritated.

“You heard correctly,” she repeated. “Assemble your squad and report to the Hangar in one hour. We got orders that Canada is being annexed, and this strike is going to be quick and painless. Don’t want to give the aliens more time than necessary.”

So ADVENT _could_ annex countries. Interesting. “Have they declared war on us?” He asked.

“Short of actually announcing it,” Hawkins answered, crossing her arms. “They have refused to work with ADVENT whatsoever, which is a problem when it comes to our operations in America. Guess the Chancellor got tired of putting up with them, and is going to solve the problem herself.”

That seemed extremely odd. What exactly did Canada have to lose with working with ADVENT? Did they not want to protect the planet? Unless…

He frowned. “Have they been compromised by alien infiltrators?” He knew such a thing was possible.

“If they have, no one’s told me,” Hawkins shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me though, and it would explain this kind of response. ADVENT wouldn’t do it unless it was serious. I also wouldn’t be surprised if they kept it quiet. That would unsettle a lot of people.”

Roman nodded. The reasons weren’t too important to him. The fact that any country was sitting out this war was borderline treasonous in and of itself. And if they were even refusing to _work_ with the only entity that was doing something…well, he wasn’t too sympathetic to their reasons. Anyone who ignored the alien threat was either blind, stupid, or compromised.

“What will be our objectives?” He asked.

“Commander Logan Campbell of the Canadian Army is with us,” Hawkins said, picking up several pieces of paper from a nearby table. “Once he announces he is with us, and orders the Army to stand down, I think resistance will be minimal, if any at all. The team you’ll be with will be charged with securing Edmonton and the legislative body there. With any luck, the program provided by Benjamin, another Canadian helping us, will take down the power grid to the city and cut it off until the city is secured. You should not have much trouble.”

“Sounds good,” Roman agreed. The majority of the military not being an issue was a huge boon, and would make everything go much quicker. “Any restrictions I should know about?”

“No civilian casualties whenever possible,” Hawkins ordered. “Canada isn’t the Middle East. These people aren’t potential insurgents, and if any Canadian military or police _do_ fight back, the chances of them employing terrorist methods or hostage situations is low. So watch your fire. The last thing we need is to give the media more ammo to use against ADVENT.”

Roman rubbed his forehead, his lips stretching into a grim smile. “I’ll do my best. There will be fallout from this.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Hawkins agreed. “But that isn’t my problem or yours. The Chancellor has ordered this, and she can deal with the consequences. We do our jobs. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed, and good luck,” she said, inclining her head to him.

He saluted and left, wondering how his team was going to take this. ADVENT was a never-ending adventure it seemed. Of everything he had expected, annexing _Canada_ of all countries had never crossed his mind as a possibility.

Oh well. With any luck this would be over quickly.

***

_ADVENT Command Courtyard, Switzerland_

Saudia stood in the same place as she had during her first official address, and oddly enough, with many of the same people behind her. Although there definitely seemed to be a lot more…ornamentation around the general area. The ADVENT Command Center had been getting a lot of security upgrades and general aesthetic improvements, which largely consisted of liberal dispersions of the ADVENT logo everywhere.

She didn’t really care either way, but it did seem to impress many of the reporters and media here, who were taking pictures, video, and everything else they did. They packed the courtyard in front of her, while ADVENT Peacekeepers stood at their posts, ever vigilant for the slightest sign of trouble. She really wasn’t expecting anything, since these people had been screened well beforehand.

But they were definitely curious at what she had to say. Rumors she heard said that they were expecting her to speak about Japan and the current situation with the military.

Well, they were going to be in for a surprise.

They were quiet as she took the podium, at least one kind of representative of every ADVENT member nation behind her; a show of unity that would be crucial as she made her speech. The Commander, Treduant, Gwan, Habicht, all were behind and waiting along with the media. Behind them was a massive projection screen which was playing a short spinning ADVENT logo, with red and black tints. A placeholder for what she would be revealing later.

She grasped the sides of the podium with her hands, and began. “Citizens of ADVENT, and those across the world, it is again a privilege to speak before so many today. Over the past months, ADVENT has worked tirelessly to unite the world under one cause, repair the wounds that have festered for generations, and defend our species against the ever encroaching threat of the aliens.”

Saudia was sure to work in some pauses into her speech, to allow for the translators to repeat what she was saying. Everyone needed to hear this. “As with any war, there are victories, and there are losses. It is a matter of mitigation and control. I want to assure the people that ADVENT is quickly adapting to the situations as they arise, and heeding the lessons used in our defeat. To expect total victory is unrealistic at this stage, yet despite our enemy being far more advanced, we have held them to a single continent, Japan, and the West Coast of the United States.”

Might not be inspiring, but it was the _heavily_ distilled truth. But it was all in presentation. “Yet despite the few setbacks, ADVENT had not slowed in continuing to improve the lives of not just our citizens, but those in the rest of the world. Our cities are growing more industrious and prosperous, our people are united in our cause, and we have brought peace and security to the war-torn regions of the Middle East, and quelled the misguided attacks and corruption plaguing South America. Thanks to the efforts of our Peacekeepers, citizens within ADVENT are without a doubt, the safest in the world.”

Oh, there were some people who were going to pick _that_ line apart. There was no applause, but she raised a hand up, more for attention than anything else. “But this is all leading to one singular point; the one purpose for which ADVENT was conceptualized for. All our advancements and achievements are for nothing, so long as the aliens exist. There can be no rest as long as they threaten our lives and freedom. All within ADVENT leads to this; the defense of our species.”

Her voice rose. “This is larger than us; this is more than a government fighting its enemies. This concerns the very fate of our _species_. ADVENT does not simply fight for those within its borders, but for all Humans, regardless of where they live. This is no time for petty divides of ideology and sovereignty. Our very future is at stake, our freedom, and our loved ones. _Those_ are the stakes in this war, the ones our soldiers fight for every day.”

That did get some scattered applause, and now came the turn. Her voice hardened. “And yet, there are those that refuse to acknowledge this fact. They refuse to acknowledge the _truth_ that this is not a conflict that one can simply stand on the sidelines and watch. How can one be neutral when the defeat of ADVENT will spell the enslavement and decimation of the entire Human race? That, I am afraid, is not the reality some live in.”

“There are those who believe that if they avoid the conflict, that if they _stay out of it_ , that they will be spared. They would rather throw themselves on the mercy of the alien conquerors meekly, than stand and fight for our inherent right to live as a sovereign and independent species; free from any kind of alien control. Our fight is for freedom; their _peace_ is slavery.”

Her gaze swept over the crowd, who were now somewhat unsettled by the venom in her voice. “ _That must end_. These people are traitors of the worst kind, the cowards who hide and try to play both sides, hoping and praying that they will be spared by whoever emerges victorious. This is not something that can be ignored, nor will it.”

Her voice ripped through the crowd, who were furiously scribbling their notes and hanging on her words. “Canada has taken this path. Their leadership has capitulated to the lie of neutrality. Prime Minister Murphy believes the aliens can be reasoned with. They think that by refusing to assist us, they gain favor with the aliens, should we ultimately fall.”

“ADVENT does not seek to impose our methods on independent nations,” Saudia stated to them all. “We will work with these sovereign states, even if their ideologies are vastly different to our own. Canada has repeatedly refused to do even this; they would rather they retain their pride and superiority than assist us in repelling the alien threat in the United States. Because of their refusal to help, thousands of our soldiers have perished when there was no need. Their resistance was a matter of disagreement before; now it is a matter of priority.”

There was now muttering breaking out in the crowd, who were staring wide-eyed at her, some in clear disbelief. “Neither ADVENT, nor I, will put the sovereignty of one nation above the entire Human race,” Saudia continued, her voice letting the controlled fury free. “Diplomacy has failed, reason has failed, all methods to convince the Canadian government of the reality of the alien threat have failed. There are no other choices.”

She extended a hand, gesturing to the screen behind her. “But you may believe that is their right. Perhaps, but I would question the ones who would rather see our species enslaved than work with the ones fighting it. Judge for yourself if you wish to see us under their thrall or not.” The screen switched to the footage which she had prepared.

From what she knew, XCOM had kept this footage secret for obvious reasons, and it was one of the most chilling things Saudia had ever seen. Yet there was no more potent way to drive home what the aliens truly intended than to watch the footage XCOM had taken from the Sectoid Hive. The speakers blared the unsettling crying of half-grown Human children, thrown into grinding vats to be reduced to organic waste. The Hive had been a nightmare come to life, with the callously discarded bodies of Human babies experimented on only being one part of the show.

The footage jumped to different perspectives, with the XCOM soldiers talking in the background, but no one was paying attention to that. They were watching the cells of genetically mutated Humans; the machines where they were dissected while still alive; additional experimental footage the Sectoids had been so kind as to record, of them casually disassembling children and adults, all while they were still screaming.

Saudia’s gaze never wavered from the crowd, all of whom were either stunned, horrified, or most of them were looking away. One or two threw up in the background. “Shut it off!” Someone yelled, a sound between horror and sobbing. Saudia didn’t shut it off, but resumed speaking.

“This is what the Canadian government is willing to subject us to. They have seen what you are seeing now. They are under no illusions, but their response is still the same. They believe that we are more of a danger than these creatures doing these experiments to our species. It is said that evil only exists when good men do nothing. I have found nothing more evil than this. ADVENT is fighting to prevent this from being our future; they would welcome it, and accept this evil into our lives; meekly, without any fight, like cowards.”

Now came the final blow. “In light of the circumstances, evidence, and approval of the Congress of Nations, I have authorized the annexation of Canada, into a member state of ADVENT.”

The pretense of civility the reporters had was shattered, and they began yelling questions at her, or just talking in stunned disbelief. They had clearly not expected _this_. “ADVENT will be working to ensure this is done as efficiently and quickly as possible,” Saudia continued calmly. “Even as I speak to you now, our soldiers are arriving within Canadian territory. We have the support of the Commander of the Canadian Military, Logan Campbell. We have made formal demands for the remaining military forces to stand down, and for the current administration to surrender to our custody.”

Saudia allowed a pause. “For any Canadian citizens watching this, you are not our enemy. All that is required is your full cooperation with any ADVENT officials. We will be with you throughout this unfortunate incident. It is not what we wanted, but little choice has been left. We will not stand by and do nothing for that only serves to embolden the aliens. ADVENT will provide what your leaders could not; safety, security, and the willingness to fight for a future free of the alien threat.”

She took a step back. “There will be updates on the current situation hourly, and I look forward to us refocusing on the alien threat. There will be no questions taken today. May this incident be resolved peacefully,” she finished, giving the ADVENT salute with a fist over her heart, and every single Peacekeeper and soldier followed suit, and she imagined that the Commander was doing it as well.

But it was delivered, and her job was done.

Now it was time to see what happened next.

***

_Edmonton, Canada_

Roman was unsurprised to see that there weren’t many opposing soldiers outside the city as ADVENT marched on it; the latter soldiers still deploying from the helicopters, and even more were coming from armored carriers within hours. The numbers seemed pretty small, twenty-five hundred ADVENT personnel, but all of them were soldiers or officers, and the chances that the Canadian military would put up a fight were close to zero.

It was also apparent that some of the citizens had no idea what was going on, as there was a small stream of traffic leaving the city, although the cars almost immediately turned around when they realized they were driving towards an army, rifles raised in their direction.

 _“The Canadian Army is standing down,”_ Hawkins updated as they began entering the city perimeter, their target being the Alberta Legislature Building. The entirety of the Alberta government was to be taken into custody, and there were other teams going to the various residences with arrest warrants.  _“Power is down in the city, they should be paralyzed.”_

“Acknowledged,” Roman stated, motioning that they continue as they were approached by some clear Alberta police officers. Their own weapons were drawn, and looked laughably pitiful compared to the firepower ADVENT had. “We’ve got law enforcement coming up. Not hostile yet.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Galina muttered, raising her rifle in conjunction with the other soldiers as Roman raised a fist, ordering them to stop. The soldiers behind them froze, and steadied their weapons at the growing number of law enforcement. The chief officer, or at least that was who Roman assumed he was, stepped forward.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he said, a hand resting on his pistol. “We weren’t expecting ADVENT, and I’m pretty sure we would have known if you were permitted to enter the city. Especially with an _army_.”

“I am ADVENT Shieldbearer Roman Kostov,” Roman greeted. “By order of Chancellor Saudia Vyandar, Canada is to be annexed and a general call for surrender has been sent out to the current administration and military. We have received confirmation that the Canadian Army is standing down, and our mission is to take the Alberta legislature into custody.”

The man didn’t seem surprised, which told Roman that he knew very well what was going on. “And what would you expect us to do? Just let you take control of our city?”

“That is up to you,” Roman said slowly. “If necessary, we will take the city by force. You will die, and unless your department has gauss weaponry or explosive equipment, I doubt you will kill even one of us. I have orders to avoid unnecessary conflict, but I will not hesitate to put you or your officers down if required. Before you throw away your life, think very carefully about what you will accomplish.”

There were a few tense moments of silence. “I suppose you have taken down the city grid,” the chief said. “If we…stand down…will it be restored?”

Roman cut off external speakers. “Corporal, are you listening?”

 _“Yes, Shieldbearer,”_ Hawkins confirmed. _“Assuming they aren’t lying, we can do that. But before that, we will need their assistance in arresting the legislature.”_

“Understood,” Roman nodded, and turned his external speakers back on. “If you stand down, we will restore power; but only after the Alberta legislature has been taken into custody.”

The man’s face grew grim. “I suppose that might have to do.” He stepped back. “We will stand down. But only if you refrain from harming the civilians and treat the legislature…well.”

Roman gave a firm nod. “We have no intention of harming the civilians, assuming they stay out of our way. The legislature will not be harmed either, provided they submit quickly. Are they in the Legislature Building?”

“Yes, most are,” he confirmed. “There was an emergency session called after the…announcement. The building went into lockdown when the power was cut. They are still in there, and I have officers guarding the building.”

That was going to make things easier. Roman waved the soldiers forward, and they kept marching. “ADVENT appreciates your cooperation,” he told the chief. “It will not be forgotten, and power will be restored as soon as possible. Ensure that the citizens are out of our way, and all your officers stand down.”

“Will do,” he agreed, stepping back and allowing Roman to proceed, and with several hundred soldiers at his back, they marched through the streets, following the small mini-map in the upper right corner of their HUDs. The civilians out on the streets fled and stumbled out of the way as they approached, some gasping and staring in shock at the soldiers invading their city.

Shock, more than anything else, stood out on their faces. Roman didn’t know if it was because of ADVENT invading, or aftereffects of the horrific images the Chancellor had shown. Roman almost wished he hadn’t decided to pay close attention to what had been shown. He’d seen a lot of utterly revolting things, but nothing even remotely at that level of cruelty.

Yet he was sure of one thing. Anyone who could stand by knowing that was what the aliens wanted to do to their species…they were traitors, and as far as he was concerned, just as evil as the monsters they were fighting. Roman didn’t know what would happen to the Prime Minister, but he hoped it was something suitable for the coward he was.

Maybe he should be stuck on the front lines, and see just what the aliens were doing there. Either way was a win. ADVENT got a soldier, or he would die. Roman didn’t care either way, and it might redeem him in some way.

“Do you think they knew?” Stanislav questioned as they rounded street corners, the Legislature Building in the distance, looking very similar to the US Capitol Building. “Or did they really hide what the aliens were doing from them?”

Galina snorted. “If they showed that footage, and the people _didn’t_ immediately demand Canada join, I would be utterly shocked. I don’t care what you think, if seeing… _that_ ….doesn’t make you feel at least _somewhat_ inclined to help, then you’re an apathetic and selfish monster. So no, I don’t think they knew.”

“I never thought I would agree with this,” Elena said quietly. “But ADVENT is justified here. It’s one thing to think we’re wrong, it’s another to avoid the fight altogether and deny any help to the ones fighting. Even _China_ knows the aliens are dangerous.”

“And unlike Canada, they’re actually preparing to fight,” Konstantin nodded, a hard edge to his voice. Out of all of them, it was him that Roman felt was the most affected, surprisingly enough. Or maybe not, since Roman had known that several family members of his had disappeared nearly a year ago. It might have been aliens, or it might have been simple kidnap and murder.

Roman hoped it had been the latter. Being a captive of the aliens was a fate worse than death.

They were now on the steps of the Legislative Building, and the Edmonton officers silently nodded and stepped aside and let them approach the door. “Get this open,” Roman ordered, and several Engineers approached, and pulled out laser torches, which cut through the hinges and locks within a few seconds. Working in tandem, Roman and his team got the doors open, and marched inside.

“We have a list of names,” Roman told them after they reached the entrance. “Galina, Maksim, set up a processing checkpoint here. Everyone else, you are authorized to take any people within this building into custody. Bring them back here immediately and _do not_ use unnecessary force, or you _will_ be punished accordingly. If they attack you, you are allowed to subdue them, but there are no circumstances where you should have to kill them. These people are not soldiers, and don’t have gauss weaponry. Is that clear?”

 _“Yes, Shieldbearer!”_ They shouted in unison.

“We clear this floor by floor,” Roman stated, turned around and beginning to walk forward. “Disperse and find them!”

At the chorus of affirmation, the ADVENT soldiers began moving through the building, dismantling the last Canadian branch that stood in the way of victory. Some ballistic gunshots went off, and the shouts and furious words of the people within were nothing against the might of ADVENT as they arrested them, one by one.

And at the end, they raised the ADVENT flag above the Legislature Building, the city of Edmonton now under the control of ADVENT.

***

_Parliament Hill, Ottawa, Canada_

“The Prime Minister and the gathered senators are inside,” Ethan informed Saudia as she walked up the steps of Parliament Hill, a place she’d been not too long ago. How things had changed.

Saudia had not been surprised in the least when the Prime Minister had ordered the police and Protective Service to stand down. A pacifist to the end, it seemed. ADVENT had quickly secured the city, and was now surrounding the building itself.

Stein stood beside her, several hundred Peacekeepers behind her, in her combat-ready armor, and one hand resting on her stun baton as she appraised the area before her. Saudia also wore an adapted version of ADVENT armor, since no one was going to let her go without some kind of protection, although she had the helmet tucked under her arm, since she found wearing it stifling.

“We are ready to move on your orders,” Stein stated, glancing at Saudia. “I believe it is time to finish this.”

“Agreed,” Saudia nodded. “Begin as you will.”

While Stein shouted orders, Saudia proceeded upward, where the Engineers had unlocked the doors, and opened them as she approached. The Peacekeepers marched inside, and immediately began arresting anyone they saw, and Saudia continued forward, Stein at her side as they made their way to the office of the Prime Minister.

ADVENT Intelligence had determined his most likely location, and it helped that Saudia had been here before, and had been sure to study the schematics well beforehand. “What are you going to do to him?” Stein asked as they walked. “There are several different options.”

“An early retirement and a gag order will likely be sufficient,” Saudia answered, as she had given some thought to this. “Murphy is not someone to be feared. If he is silenced, he will be forgotten about. I see no reason to push for the maximum penalty. The circumstances do not warrant it.”

“Understood,” Stein nodded. “Unfortunate though. The traitor deserved worse.”

“There is going to be enough backlash to this, regardless of the footage,” Saudia answered with a shrug. “Much as I would rather get rid of him for good, the circumstances and actions do not warrant execution or imprisonment, even if a case could be made for both.”

“Fair,” Stein said, looking back forward. “I’ll be busy in the Middle East for the foreseeable future. And there are problems in South America that warrant some kind of response. It will be useful to not have to prosecute a former world leader as well.”

Saudia flashed a small smile at that. “I do my best.”

“Here we are,” Ethan said, as they approached some double doors, the wood ornate and carved into various shapes. He reached over and opened it, and they stepped inside to see Prime Minister Murphy sitting calmly in his seat, looking not the least bit surprised to see them.

“Chancellor,” he greeted calmly. “We meet again.”

Saudia’s face hardened. “I did warn you.”

“So you did,” he nodded. “I somehow believed you wouldn’t cross the one red line the world wouldn’t support. And yet you have. Masterfully handled, I must say.”

“The red line for most is the sight of children being cut up on alien tables,” Ethan spat, stepping forward. “And yet you lacked the conviction to even do that. History will not remember you well, Prime Minister.”

“We have covered this topic before,” Murphy dismissed Ethan’s words with an absent wave. “I feel no need to repeat it. I do not regret my stance. Regardless of the crimes of the aliens, that does not change that I do not believe ADVENT has the best interests of Humanity in mind. It does not matter what you show, the immutable fact is that you have invaded and captured a country that had done no crime other than to peacefully oppose you.”

“Except your _peaceful_ opposition has hurt our efforts in America,” Saudia countered. “Your refusal to cooperate in any way has cost countless lives. You might not understand it, but there is blood on your hands for that. I didn’t want this, Prime Minister, but this is larger than your country, and _especially_ you. If needed, I will annex the entire world if they oppose the destruction of the aliens.”

“All you have accomplished today is a hollow victory,” Murphy said calmly. “Today people have seen the brutality of ADVENT. You have gained many enemies, and now there will be those who will stand against you. Fear and terror cannot be sustained forever, and your little regime will collapse before your eyes. You are not the first tyrant who believed themselves justified, and you will pay the price one day.”

Saudia was sorely tempted to punch him in the face. She _wanted_ to very badly. As it stood, Ethan seemed to want to as well and took a step forward. “No.” Stein said flatly, raising a hand, and Ethan stopped. “We have no need to listen to his words any longer.”

She stepped forward, a pair of handcuffs at the ready. “By order of the Chancellor, you are under arrest, Prime Minister Murphy. You will be tried and sentenced. Please extend your hands.”

Murphy stood, a slight smile on his lips. “Ah, Saudia’s attack dog. I’m sure this is satisfying for you, Stein. No. I will not comply. If you want to arrest me, you will have to drag me out into the streets so the world can see how you treat your prisoners.”

Saudia’s own smile turned cold, and she imagined Stein had a similar one on her face. “You will not be a martyr, Prime Minister. You will be removed and the people will forget about you. Understand that the current plan for you is a simple forced retirement, and an order never to interfere in public matters. Lenient, all things considering. Resisting arrest would upgrade the charges to twenty years in prison.” She tapped her armor. “All of this is being recorded. There will be no disputing the evidence. I ask you again, Prime Minister, please extend your hands.”

Murphy shook his head. “No. I will not be intimidated.”

Stein nodded, and turned to Saudia. “Let the record show repeated refusal to cooperate with law enforcement. Proceeding to subdue.” She whipped out her stun baton and slammed it into the bottom of the Prime Minister’s chin with a _crack_. The shock was set for the level just short of lethal, and he was knocked out almost instantly, falling down unceremoniously.

“Good riddance,” Stein muttered, placing her baton back and she reached down and handcuffed the unconscious Prime Minister, then slung him over her shoulder. “Hope you enjoy your time in prison, Murphy. You and them will probably get along.”

Saudia didn’t feel too bad about the Prime Minister refusing to cooperate. Even when presented with no other options, he somehow still managed to make the wrong one.

Stein had summed it up well. Good riddance indeed.

There would be one less traitor to make her life more difficult, and hopefully this would send a strong warning to those who believed that they could sit out this war with no consequences. Canada had been the world’s wake-up call.

Now it would be interesting to see who was paying attention.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

Sierra felt she wasn’t alone in feeling complete shock as the soldiers crowded around the TVs in the barracks, watching reporters announce, their own faces blank with shock, that ADVENT was actually annexing Canada. Sierra hadn’t even known that was something they could _do_ , at least legally. At the same time, she shouldn’t have been surprised at that.

Sierra glanced at Liliyane and Jasmine, both of whom were blank masks as they watched. The Commander had apparently been gracious enough to let them know that ADVENT was going to take over their country, which she supposed was a point for him. Still, that meant that XCOM was definitely supporting this act.

And from the comments in the room, he wasn’t alone.

“Well, I guess this will help us,” the CT agent Timur said as news that Edmonton had been taken arrived. “Sounds like the Canadian military is supporting this.”

Sierra gave him an incredulous look. “You say that like it’s a fucking shock. They would be torn to pieces if they fought ADVENT.”

“Didn’t seem to deter the Middle East,” Fakhr pointed out. “They had no chance and they still fought.”

“There really isn’t much that can be done about it,” Liliyane sighed. “The Prime Minister made his choice; this ultimately comes down to the government acting like morons.”

“Seriously,” Matthew said, leaning back on the couch. “All they _literally_ had to do was say, ‘yeah, you can go through our country and get all the benefits of ADVENT protection without having to actually join’. Sorry to you and Jasmine, Lily, but they completely had this coming.”

One of the North Koreans, Min-Su Song, stroked his beard thoughtfully. Sierra found it really weird to look at him; for some reason, beards just looked _wrong_ on Asians. “I’m rather surprised the military put up with this Prime Minister’s obvious incompetence for so long,” he commented. “I suspect that had ADVENT not acted, there would have been a military coup in the future.”

Sierra rolled her eyes. “The world doesn’t follow Best Korea policies,” she answered. “The point of loyalty is following your leaders even when you disagree.”

“Is it though?” Oliver interjected, surprisingly. The older man looked rather tired as he spoke. “The Chancellor did have a point. Can anyone stand by in good conscience knowing that if ADVENT fails, we’ll be treated like…” he gestured at the TV. “ _That_? At what point are you complicit by neutrality? Look, even I’ll be the first to admit one of the biggest problems of the UN was that it didn’t _do_ anything. They could have actually improved the world several times, but they held back for one reason or another. Right or wrong, the argument about not disturbing the sovereignty of a nation…it was valid.”

He shook his head. “But even I don’t think that is even a comparable thing. This isn’t just about some superficial disagreement. This is about our entire species. Is it right for ADVENT to completely annex the country? Maybe, hell I’d say probably. But are they justified? I think so.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the soldiers, and Oliver’s word did have some weight here. He’d openly said he disliked some ADVENT policies, but if even _he_ was thinking that this was acceptable, then that might make up the minds of some who were torn on the entire subject.

Like herself.

The footage had been horrific; completely and utterly brutal, and it made her want to kill some aliens right now. But she couldn’t help but wonder if that was _really_ the reason ADVENT was annexing Canada, or simply a convenient excuse to silence a vocal critic.

The problem Sierra had was that, regardless of the Prime Minister being a moron, annexation wasn’t necessary. She could bet that after showing that footage, there would have been an uproar from the population, and they would have pressured the government to do _something_. Maybe not join ADVENT, but at least ally with them.

The majority of people, even Canadians, weren’t anything like the Prime Minister. They wouldn’t stand by quietly. That was literally all ADVENT had to do, and watch the people turn against him. True, it might not work, but Canada was genuinely a place where she felt where public pressure would have an impact.

Then again, she was a regular American woman with no idea how Canada actually worked, so she could be completely wrong. Still though, at worst all ADVENT had to do was just ignore whatever Canada had said and go through the country anyway. Really, what could they do about it? Help the aliens?

It would likely be a lot more acceptable than just taking over the country entirely. By doing it, ADVENT has removed whatever moral high ground they had over Canada, or anyone else for that matter. Sierra realized that it wasn’t the specific _act_ that was bugging her, but that the entire event was _unnecessary_. It didn’t feel like anything more than ADVENT sending a message to the rest of the world which boiled down to ‘Help us or we’ll take you over.’

But Oliver did have a point. Could they really apply regular morality to a war where defeat meant death and worse?

She didn’t know.

“I was in the Sectoid Hive,” Carmelita suddenly said, absentmindedly sitting away from the majority of soldiers, fingers absentmindedly rapping on the table, a faraway look in her golden-rimmed eyes. “When we first took it, before we turned it into _this_ …” she gestured around the room. “What they showed was only part of it. I saw the other archives the Sectoids kept. Meticulous bastards. It made _me_ sick, some of the stuff they were doing. No matter what we as a species do, we will never come close to the aliens in sheer cruelty.” She looked up at the rest of them, a hand curled into a fist. “Canada doesn’t matter. Their reasons don’t matter. I don’t care if the coward Prime Minister was executed on live TV by ADVENT, if it leads to the complete and utter annihilation of the aliens, then it’s completely justified. Traitors don’t deserve anything, and ADVENT has every right to wipe them out. The Chancellor was correct. There is no middle ground here. There are either those who are willing to fight, or there are traitors.”

There were murmurs of agreement, and although Sierra didn’t exactly _agree_ , she didn’t think it was a good idea to bring up some counterpoints to that. Besides, Carmelita wasn’t exactly the most objective person when it came to the aliens. Then again, if their positions were reversed, Sierra couldn’t say she wouldn’t be the same.

Sierra sank back into her chair as the discussion turned to something else. This was far more conflicting than it had any right to be. Maybe she just needed to sleep.

***

_Forward Observation Station, Mars Orbit_

Ravarian watched the four holographic screens showing various Human news stations reporting the latest developments. The voices and sounds all blended into one, and all were essentially saying the same thing. “Mute.” He finally said.

ADVENT making a public address had been expected, and he had not expected that it would be anything more than a reassurance.

He had _not_ expected Saudia to announce the annexation of Canada. Not _now_ at least. Ravarian was well aware that ADVENT _could_ annex countries if certain criteria were filled, but at the same time, he had wondered if they would actually go through with it.

His lips pressed into a hard line as he watched the soundless newscasters. He hoped that Battlemaster was happy. Imperator or not, they had had the perfect opportunity to at the very least subvert Canada, if not outright convert it, and they had done nothing.

A perfect opportunity wasted for no good reason.

With this ADVENT now controlled the nearly the entirety of North America, with the exception of the small amount of cities the Collective controlled in the United States, and now that ADVENT had Canada, they could come from the north and bypass some of their stronger fortifications. What was worse was that Canada was not a place they could easily take either without a significant increase of soldiers.

Japan had been an excellent victory, but there were no signs of ADVENT slowing down. They would infuriatingly adapt, and had shown surprising foresight by quickly evacuating Japan, and preserving the majority of their forces. Korea would be the next obvious target, and from a logistics standpoint, it was one of the only ones available.

The three main targets from Japan were Korea, China, and Russia. While China could probably be dealt with relatively easily, it would take a significant amount of time to do properly, and there was simply no way a country of over a billion Humans would be taken in a timely manner. And that was time ADVENT would use to get stronger, or worst case, use China as a proxy which would eat up Collective resources while their centers of operation were continually protected.

At the same time, China would have to be dealt with eventually, and the Chinese were just as focused on defeating them as ADVENT, even if they clearly disliked their global neighbors. Infiltration was nearly impossible, at least anywhere effective. Their authoritarian regime was being utilized to its fullest effect, and Ravarian knew that after the first proper battle with China, they would immediately begin attempting to reverse-engineer their technology, or worst case, accidentally awaken psions.

Were China actively attempting to sabotage ADVENT, that might be beneficial to pit them against each other.

The problem was that they weren’t.

Hence, they were a potential problem in the future, but not necessarily one that needed to be dealt with right away.

Korea was going to be a complete warzone at the very least, and probably much worse than Japan had been. Unlike Japan, Korea was on an actual continent, and it could easily be supplied and reinforced, and reports from the Zararch indicated that the defenses gradually became more and more secure up until the border between North and South Korea.

No matter how he looked at it, Korea had the potential to be fought to a stalemate, even assuming ADVENT _wasn’t_ trying to learn from their mistakes. Defenders always had the advantage, but the sheer amount of firepower in the country, as a consequence of both of them preparing for a war against each other, was not something that could be ignored.

The coast would likely be breached easy enough, but Seoul was going to be a nightmare to beat without Ethereal support. Which he supposed the Battlemaster would be more than willing to provide. But in theory it could hold out against their forces indefinitely. It depended on how much the Battlemaster wanted to devote to the conflict compared to other areas.

That wasn’t even considering North Korea.

Ravarian grew mildly annoyed at that. There was almost no information on it, but based on the previous North Korean army, which was clearly the basis for the base ADVENT soldier, they appeared far more advanced than South Korea, and he knew that Gwan had made a point to prepare for their invasion. Ravarian didn’t know who’d been the fool who’d ordered an attempted abduction in the country, but it had allowed the North Koreans to accelerate their research significantly after they captured it.

The unknown was the greatest risk here, and he was not expecting it to be an easy conquest without significant support. They couldn’t rely on Caelior or the Creator’s pets every time. And right now, Collective forces were displaying their weaknesses every time they fought, and just as the Humans were adapting, they needed to as well.

Russia he dismissed for the time being. Their strategy was going to need to change in the coming months. Winter was coming, and if there was one thing he had learned from Human history, it was that there were certain regions that should _not_ be fought in during that time. Granted, that was for Humans, but Ravarian wasn’t confident that his soldiers would fare much better.

Mutons could survive in almost any environment, but performance was more important than simple survival, and they would suffer. Berserkers would be severely neutered in snow. Most Vitakara would perform at Human levels or slightly better, with the exception of Borelians and the Oyariah, although even the latter was questionable. Chryssalids would have the same problem as Berserkers, and Andromedons would perform depending on how bad the weather was. Even still, their performance would be reduced.

The cold would also affect the vehicles, mostly because Cyberdisks, drones, and Sectopods had the slight issue of their joints locking in cold conditions, which was a design flaw the Sectoids had never bothered to correct since they rarely, if ever, fought in the cold. There were no seasons anymore on Helion-7, so it was likely that reality had never entered their minds. Since they were still being ravaged by the cursed XCOM bioweapon, they would be too distracted to upgrade their mechanical units.

That took Canada and Russia off the table in the short term, which meant the focus of the war should turn to the southern hemisphere. America could still be fought over, and they would have to begin targeting South America and Africa, the latter of which ADVENT was ignoring entirely. If they worked to build their influence in those regions in the winter months, they would be in excellent position to pen ADVENT in when spring came and the cold abated.

Provided there were no more questionable orders, like leaving Africa alone for some arbitrary reason.

Ravarian waved the haptic display off, and turned to leave. He sincerely hoped the Battlemaster and Imperator had learned their lesson here. ADVENT was taking this seriously, and contrary to what certain Ethereals seemed to believe, they should as well.

Speaking of which, he should have Quisilia check on Nartha. He’d been on Vitakar enough to do whatever he wanted. It was time to move him to Desolan next, since he had suspicions as to the level of dissent there.

If Quisilia wanted to use Nartha, use him they would. He sincerely hoped this wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake. Nartha wasn’t an idiot, and if they were too obvious, he would put the pieces together and…well, Quisilia would kill him.

So perhaps they were safer than he thought.

Still, never hurt to lessen the risk.

***

_Riyadh Garrison, Saudi Arabia_

Betos had to admit that the Chancellor knew how to handle a situation. Prior to this, she didn’t believe that it could be possible to make the indisputable invasion of a peaceful country seem reasonable…but the images of some of the monstrous things that aliens were supposedly doing were the most effective way to illustrate the threat.

She had _almost_ been convinced to ignore the entire event, because it seemed rather small in the face of the alien brutality. Until Mox had wondered if the footage was even real.

She sat at her desk, a blank piece of paper in front of her. It was what she was going to say, and she didn’t know where to start, or if she should just throw it into the trash and try to do her best here. But now that Mox had put the possibility in her head, she _couldn’t_ just ignore it. She hated how much she was reminding herself of those idiotic conspiracy theorists who liked talking about how Israel was secretly running the world.

The thing was, she had seen what was probably the darkest side of ADVENT, and she could see the higher-ups agreeing that something like this _might_ be justified. There were several question to ask.

Would ADVENT be willing to stage the alien experiments? Yes, if the way they handled the Middle East was any indication. Their only justification was that no one could (or should) remain neutral in the war, and they would do whatever they deemed necessary to lessen the public outcry. Second question:

Did ADVENT have the resources to stage it? Undoubtedly. Betos suspected that if this _was_ staged, then it probably had been done long ago, and they were saving even more for situations like this. No better way to cover up your crimes than showing ‘evidence’ that no matter how bad it was, the aliens were _much_ worse, and therefore it was ok.

It boiled down to the simple fact that she didn’t _trust_ ADVENT. The soldiers were just doing their jobs, they weren’t who she had issues with. It was the leadership and government. The Chancellor, her cabinet, and the Commander who seemed to have a disturbing amount of influence over ADVENT in general, not just military strategy. Something was off with XCOM, but that was a completely separate issue.

But true or false, it had at least made her see the situation in a less emotional light. ADVENT had ultimately invaded a country that had done nothing against them except be uncooperative. Was it idiotic? Yes. Was it wrong? Not to her. The thing was that there were some things that were either immutable or they were not.

ADVENT supposedly respected the sovereignty of independent nations. But apparently only to a certain point. That wasn’t acceptable to her. You either respected nations peacefully staying out of it, or you did not. ADVENT couldn’t play both sides here, much as some people were arguing that ‘here they were justified’. That was debatable, but now ADVENT had opened up the door to doing it _anywhere_.

Saudia had painted a clear line in the sand, and the insinuation had been clear: You are with ADVENT, or you are a traitor. Following that line of logic, ADVENT could target any non-ADVENT nation based on that alone. How long until China was targeted? Argentina? Hell, any of the remaining EU nations? ADVENT wouldn’t need manipulative footage, fake or not, in the future.

What was really concerning was that it was going to be all too easy for this to become commonplace. Betos was convinced this was only the beginning. It would be shocking now, but after it happened four or five times, people would simply stop caring. Easier to not think on if the ones in power were really doing the right thing or not.

Far as she could tell, it was already becoming commonplace. The methods used by the SSR; the riots put down by Peacekeepers; now annexation. There was only so much she personally could justify in the name of _security_ and _for the greater good_. At some point those were just excuses; ones that conveniently hid the true motives.

She did agree with Saudia when she’d said the famous line where evil only continued to exist when good men did nothing. Was ADVENT evil?

She didn’t know. She really didn’t.

It was scarily possible that Saudia and the Commander genuinely thought every action they were taking was completely justified. It was entirely possible that this wasn’t done out of selfishness or power, but it _was_ done out of fear. The impression that she’d gotten from the Commander was that he’d been skeptical of the ability of Humanity to govern itself.

That’s really what it felt like, now that she’d thought of it. ADVENT had given up on Humanity, and it was going to force it to become what they believed their species should be. She’d certainly seen some of the worst of Humanity, but also the overwhelming good that could be done when Humans came together. She wondered if the Commander and Saudia had spent too long focusing on the problems, and had forgotten that the majority of people were ultimately good and just trying to live their lives.

Maybe ADVENT wasn’t _evil_. Not quite. But it was going down that path. How long would it be until ADVENT was performing similar acts on aliens or even Humans, while declaring it was _necessary_ and that it was _justice_ for their crimes of opposing ADVENT? It was easy to justify villainous actions if the victim was not worth defending.

No one was going to protest the rights of an alien or criminal, else they would be branded sympathizers or worse. It was insidious dehumanization, or dealienization, whatever the alien equivalent was. The most disturbing thing about ADVENT, was that they _knew what they were doing_. For better or worse, they _understood_ how to manipulate the masses. They _knew_ how to justify their actions.

And they might even genuinely believe they were in the right.

Maybe they were.

Perhaps she was the one who was wrong.

Then again, the question had to be raised: What good was it, if in defeating the aliens, humanity ended up becoming just like them?

Then they had substituted one form of slavery for another. And no one would be left to point that out.

She had often wondered if the men and women of the horrific regimes like the Nazis and USSR had encountered a similar crossroads. They had seen the beginning, and perhaps the slow declination of the government into tyranny and genocide. But they stayed in the end, maybe because they felt they had to, or because they felt they could be one of the ‘good ones’. And ultimately, by the time they realized they were complicit and nothing could be changed, it was too late.

She had a choice now: Stay, and bear responsibility for whatever came next, good or ill, or refuse to be a part of it any longer.

She picked up her pen and began writing.

***

_The Praesidium, Engineering Bay_

Nuan picked up her pencil, and tried once more to write on the notepad she’d brought with her.

[Arri, ye whw retuse tw be slavss]

[Wltf ouf filsh and blwd, let us boild a graat wail!]

Nuan scowled and rested her head back against the cool steel wall, resisting the urge to snap the pencil in two. The doctors had told her that it would take some time for her to regain enough motor control of her new prosthetics to write properly, but it was maddening that she could hardly put together even a remotely coherent sentence.

She grimaced as she looked through the lines above the ones she’d just written. It was sloppy and… _illegible_. She _knew_ how to write, but her hands were not cooperating with her. There was some marginal progress as she saw where she’d started at the beginning, but the characters were still mostly wrong.

She punched the wall in a flash of anger, the bang lost in the crowd of sounds in the Engineering Bay. Didn’t do anything, but it made her feel slightly better, because it seemed that was all the prosthetics were good for. At least she didn’t have to worry about hurting her hand anymore. She looked down at the prosthetics, still finding the feeling somewhat surreal that this _actually_ happened to her.

They were skeletal in a way, dark gray steel and the inner workings protected by sheaths of metal, but the joints exposed enough to perform every motion of the hand. She didn’t think that it was fully synched up to her brain either, because she’d try and do some motion, and it would either do it partway, or something else.

The first few times it had happened, it had nearly freaked her out that a part of her body wasn’t responding to her commands. The helpless feeling was almost as bad as when she’d woken up with no arms. Now she had arms, and sometimes they wouldn’t do what she wanted. What was truly bizarre, and what took some getting used to was that her arms _were_ now metal and wires.

There were maintenance panels on her wrist, and it was fascinating in a morbid way for her to open up part of her arm, and look inside. Even stranger that she could sort of poke around inside and not feel a thing. The arms hadn’t been calibrated for pain, which she appreciated, but they could still detect differing temperatures and pressure.

Though even that was iffy. The prosthetics were _much_ stronger than regular flesh and blood, and she’d unwittingly broken a few glasses and pencils by exerting too much pressure. She was keeping Human contact to a minimum until she was reasonably sure she wouldn’t accidentally hurt someone. At least she could punch things with impunity.

Well, mostly. It wasn’t recommended, but the doctor had insinuated that it helped people deal a little bit with the inevitable frustration. In moderation, of course. And _not_ on people.

Ironically, she could still shoot a gun reasonably well, and suspected that was one motion they had been sure to hardcode in, or whatever; she wasn’t a prosthetics expert. But it would make sense that they would want to get her back in the fight quickly. The guns probably wouldn’t be crushed in her grip either, so that was a plus.

But she was really uncomfortable with fighting at the moment, since she didn’t completely feel in control of her arms yet. She’d get there, but she didn’t know how long that would take.

Still, she wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing. Thus, she was here. Sitting on the floor against one of the walls in the Engineering bay, the notepad on her legs as she tried to learn how to write again. It made her feel a little less embarrassed to do this where there weren’t other people watching.

It was difficult to concentrate much as well, since she was torn between a kind of fear and satisfaction. The Canadian Prime Minister had completely deserved to be deposed for his backwards opinions and outdated ideologies, and seeing him being hauled out had given her a strong feeling of _justice_. Saudia was right that anyone who wasn’t helping fight the alien threat- who didn’t have to be with ADVENT – was a traitor. That she could agree with wholeheartedly. Especially after the footage of the Sectoids experimenting on people.

It made the Praesidium a lot more menacing now, knowing that this was where such acts had taken place.

Yet at the same time, ADVENT had actually annexed a country.

China could be next, and that scared her. She couldn’t know if people on either side would understand that would be an unbelievably _bad_ idea. She was expecting orders within hours demanding to know if _she_ had known anything like that was coming. They were going to be freaked out, and rightfully so.

To the best of her knowledge almost _no one_ had known this was even being considered, which meant that if China ever made ADVENT angry for some reason, they could strike without warning. And Nuan believed it wouldn’t be with a fucking _press conference_ , but likely similar to how Pakistan was taken. No warning, no mercy, and no chance to stop it.

That ADVENT was going to get their own psionic program was cause for enough concern, but China was going to have to make some serious decisions in the future. She wasn’t appraised of the current technological level of the Chinese military, but last she checked, they were nowhere near ADVENT, and probably would remain that way until they made a deal with ADVENT or the aliens attacked the mainland.

The alien dreadnought they had would probably help with some developments, but it was nowhere near what was needed.

She took a deep breath. She was probably exaggerating. China wasn’t run by emotional people, they would handle this with level heads. They’d made it this far, they would endure like they always had, regardless of how much more powerful ADVENT was now.

Nuan unconsciously rubbed her forehead, and flinched when the metal fingers touched her head. She still wasn’t used to that. It felt like someone else touching her, even when it wasn’t. These prosthetics were going to take some getting used to, but she wasn’t convinced that _everything_ about them would become normal.

But it was far better than having no hands at all.

***

_Undisclosed Location, Argentina_

Konstantine Volikov sat alone in his armored fortress, the unofficial headquarters of his little band of survivalists, or terrorists, depending on who you talked to. Technically this was one of many outposts they’d built across the country, but he’d stayed at this one long enough to think of it as almost a home.

He found it rather quaint, and exactly how he liked it. Minimal distractions, well-hidden, and well-stocked.

He shut off the TV in disgust, not exactly for what was on the screen, but because he knew he was distracting himself from something far, _far_ worse. He glanced over to where the dreaded things lay on the collapsible plastic table, as undisturbed as when Elena had set them down and strode off without a word.

No point in procrastinating any longer. The damn report wasn’t going anywhere, and there was no way he was subjecting his clients to reading twenty pages of complete and utter boredom. He stood and walked over to the table and grabbed the report, and threw himself back into the chair, already preparing himself for the worst.

He opened the page with some trepidation, and sighed as his worst fears were confirmed.

_4:15: Team arrives on site and begins immediate preparations. Jason comments on the weather._

_4:17: Rifle assembly delayed due to improper packing of equipment. Expected time delayed by twenty seconds, mission time delayed by same amount of time._

_4:18: Faraday makes derogatory comment towards ADVENT Peacekeeper forces._

He loved Elena, but she was without a doubt the worst person to write a report he could even conceive of. He was going to have to read _twenty pages_ of completely useless information and hopefully pull out stuff that he actually cared about. At the same time, she was by far the smartest one of them all, and it took her only a few hours to put together one of these. Times like these having a perfect memory would be extremely useful.

Anytime he brought that topic up though, she never answered. Maybe she didn’t know either.

As he continued the mind-numbing slog, he reflected on what he _did_ know. The attack on the Peacekeeper forces had gone exactly as expected, and the casualties had been much higher than he’d hoped. That being said, it was only a matter of time before ADVENT actually started deploying some forces against them.

He smiled at the thought; his lips set in a grim line.

He wished them luck with that.

There was a reason he’d been sought out by the Argentineans, and their unofficial alliance with several other South American countries. When it came to survival, there was no one better than Volk, the Grim Reaper himself. How he’d gotten the label, he still didn’t know, although it might have had something to do with how everyone sent to kill him ended up dead.

Still, it wasn’t something he particularly sought out. Until now, at least. He would have been content to stay in one place, living off the land in peace. Unfortunately, he knew a bit too much for certain people to let him go. Savvin didn’t like people asking questions, and it was only after fleeing to Alaska and killing the CT Squad sent after him that he’d let him settle down peacefully.

And so he’d lived in Alaska for quite a few years, until some mysterious assassins had tried to kill him again, and this time he didn’t know if they had been sent from Russia, or the United States. From what he’d learned, the US hadn’t exactly been happy that he’d taken up residence in their country. Their loss, and so he’d finally decided to do something.

If no one was going to let him live in peace, he’d make their lives a living hell. So he started what he simply called a survivalist group, a cover that allowed him to train operatives; operatives that would be capable of getting certain political dissidents out of dangerous situations. China, Russia, Africa; all these places were havens for corruption and oppression.

He’d established contacts, and soon his name had gotten around as someone who could extradite people on the run from oppressive regimes. Sometimes he went himself, most of the time he sent his operatives to extract people and bring them back to his little hideout. Very often they weren’t anyone important, low ranking military or intelligence; journalists, very rarely was it anyone with any sort of actual power.

Not that it mattered to him. He wasn’t in it for the money, even though there were quite a few organizations (usually those who came to him with job offers) who paid him, anonymously of course. And generally not in something worthless like the paper they used so often, but currency he could use. Weapons, food, supplies.

It was an arrangement he quite liked.

He knew he was bound to get the attention of someone important sooner or later, but had not imagined it would be ADVENT, who had sprung up out of _nowhere_ , and within a few days of seeing them at work, he’d gotten the hell out of the United States, and to the next best place which _wasn’t_ a sudden ADVENT member state: Argentina.

From there he’d tried to appraise the situation. The aliens had certainly been a surprise, but had been something on the horizon; something that didn’t affect his actual work. He was more focused on making sure the people were alive, before figuring out what to do next. It had become very clear that ADVENT was going to bring in a dark age for political oppression.

Had he been a heartless CEO who only cared about profits, ADVENT could have translated to more business for him, but ADVENT only made him worried. Even after a quick few days of investigation, he’d learned that ADVENT was not like the incompetent dictatorships he was used to dealing with. It was dangerous just how _competent_ everyone seemed to be. It was completely bizarre. _No one_ was _ever_ putting people like this in charge.

Typically, Volk saw several different kinds of governments; ones with smart people, but bad systems; ones with good systems, but idiot leaders; and of course, ones with bad systems and idiot leaders. He had never seen what he would call a _competent_ government, but then again, he’d worked against the worst of the worst.

The smart ones he’d never had any need to investigate. Until now.

Then in a strange twist of fate, the Argentinian government had made tentative contact, and asked to talk. He’d suspected a trap, of course, and had taken appropriate precautions. But they actually kept their word, and had a _very_ interesting chat. As he’d wondered, they were worried about ADVENT expanding and taking them over, and Brazil especially was in the hands of a war-mongering tyrant, posing another threat.

He could see their problem.

Now they of course couldn’t deter ADVENT, but they could distract them, which was where Volk and his people came in. Terrorism might have been a deterrent to some, but considering the target, Volk personally had no problem with it. When the Peacekeepers had opened fire on the protesting crowds, that had solidified his path.

And now ADVENT was indeed taking over countries they didn’t like. Wouldn’t be too long before they turned their attention to South America. The goal wasn’t to destroy ADVENT, he wasn’t delusional, but to make their occupation too costly to consider expanding. Of course Argentina couldn’t be connected to them, and this was all unofficial, else ADVENT would consider that reason to invade.

But he was a completely independent force. ADVENT didn’t know anything about him yet, and he intended to keep it that way.

He shook his head as he kept marking down actual relevant stuff from Elena’s report. The whole Canadian situation was one of the most manipulative pieces of propaganda he’d ever seen. Well handled, which again showed he was dealing with actual smart people, and the masses were going to completely buy it, and the media would fawn over the Chancellor’s words like the gullible sheep they were, or at least until their ratings went down and realized bashing her was more profitable.

Volk didn’t know if the footage they showed was real or fake. It really didn’t matter. Wow. Shocking that the aliens were experimenting on Humans. Completely unexpected. Volk sniffed at the hypocrisy. If ADVENT wasn’t experimenting on Humans themselves, or aliens for that matter, in just as horrific and brutal ways, he wouldn’t just eat the headscarf around his head, he’d eat his damn uniform.

That this was shocking to anyone was a sad state of affairs. That was what people in power did, while at the same time using similar tactics to vilify their enemies. He’d known Russia had done Human experimentation, China had done it, and the United States had done it. There was no way ADVENT wasn’t doing it either. And _especially_ on aliens, but Volk felt that if they had shown one of the Mutons getting a similar treatment, there would be people cheering for it.

Because aliens weren’t people, after all.

Volk didn’t care one way or another about the aliens anymore. No matter what narrative ADVENT wanted to push, they weren’t any better or worse than humans and as far as Volk was concerned, they were just as much a threat to the people as the aliens themselves. For all he knew, the aliens actually weren’t the completely evil puppy-kicking monsters they said. At this point he was considering everything they were saying as propaganda; they could say the sky was blue and he’d look out to actually check.

His life certainly wasn’t boring.

But now he had a mission to complete: Ruin ADVENT in South America. A challenging task, but he had several plans, which would hopefully culminate in the assassination of the bitch Luana herself. He might actually take the shot himself instead of assigning it to Elena.

It would depend on how he was feeling that day.

They were in his environment now, and guerilla warfare was one the ADVENT military was ill-prepared for. He knew the forest, he and his people could survive for weeks with nothing, and they couldn’t. He was looking forward to when the game actually began.

The door creaked open, and he looked up to see Elena walk through, her Vektor rifle slung over her shoulder and mask hooked to her belt. The hood of her trench coat was down, and she didn’t waste time taking off the mix of armor and cloth to get into something more comfortable. Everything had gone well then. If it hadn’t she would have said something.

Elena Dragunova, the woman who was ironically the reason all of this had started. No matter what happened, he would never forgive the Russian government for meddling in her life, and he was quite certain they would have terminated her had he not figured out the reason she was always _different_.

It had been a longstanding question he’d wondered. If the Russians actually wanted to kill him and be done with it, or get their guinea pig back as well.

He unconsciously stiffened just thinking about it. Over his dead body.

Although that had almost happened a few times.

Still, she’d been with him from the beginning, and had been the reason they’d managed to survive the first years. It had almost been unsettling how Elena had been able to predict where and when they might be attacked based on contingencies and plans she’d only seen once, five years ago. It also helped that it was impossible to lie to her, and she’d saved him more than once from disguised assassins or infiltrators.

In some ways, she reminded him of a computer. A perfect memory, efficient, and dangerous. She was nearly as good as him with a Vektor rifle, and much better at close-quarters fighting. Despite how she was the most boring writer for AA reports, she was the person you wanted to lead the operation itself, because _everything_ was accounted for.

He scribbled some notes down and stood. He could finish this up later. “Did you find anything unusual?” He asked her, as she finished hanging up her trench coat and taking off her boots.

“Negative,” she answered immediately, not pausing. “ADVENT Peacekeeping forces are reacting within expected contingencies. According to information provided to us by Argentina, it is likely that after a maximum to two additional attacks of similar scale and death toll, they will request additional assistance from ADVENT Intelligence or State Special Response forces.”

Volk nodded. Expected. Of the two, Intelligence was more dangerous than the SSR. SSR agents were little more than Peacekeeper special forces, and lacked any subtlety whatsoever. Easily dealt with, and their helmets were likely similarly weak to headshots. Hopefully. “Good. I think you’ve earned a break. Besides, I want you with me when we meet with our contact.”

She carefully placed her boots under her trench coat, and after giving everything a quick look over, she looked back up to him and smiled for the first time. He _still_ hadn’t figured out what randomly prompted that. There were patterns to everything she did, yet there were moments when she acted completely normal when she saw someone she cared about. “At what time?”

He smiled in return, and motioned to her head. After a second, she tilted it and he straightened a wisp of loose hair, pushing it behind her ear. “Eight o’clock, two days from now. I think in the meantime I’ll look over the identified potential recruits.”

“If you are interested, I identified several more,” Elena suddenly said, turning away and quickly striding to get a notepad which she immediately began scribbling on. “I have yet to identify closing factors to solidify potential recruitment, but their age, ethnicity, economic status, and identified political affiliations warrant further attention.”

She handed him the quickly written notes, of which there were names, locations, and other pieces of information that would make his job _much_ easier. Leave it to her to remember the little facts like that. “I never have to tell you what to do, do I?”

“No,” she answered as if it was a question, and tilting her forehead towards him. “You taught me to always be vigilant.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, pulling her close, which she allowed. “And you learned it well.” He let her go after a few seconds, and she glanced expectantly up at him.

“Are you finished for tonight?” She asked, and he inwardly sighed. No, not quite, but he didn’t want her to stay up waiting for him. Unfortunately, it was impossible to lie to her, and he knew there was zero chance of convincing her that it was alright to sleep. It was just something she did that he’d given up on her stopping.

“Almost,” he said. “It won’t be long.”

She nodded and went to sit at the foot of their bed, while he went back to his chair and resumed noting down relevant stuff from her report. He wondered how she resisted becoming bored, because he would sometimes stay up for hours until his job was done, and she’d still be waiting in the same place, with the same expression, never once expressing annoyance.

He wondered if at some point she just flipped through books, committing them to memory and going back through them at points like this. He wasn’t even sure that was how it worked; something to ask a neurologist should he ever meet one.

Still, he wouldn’t keep her waiting too long.

He finally was satisfied with his notes; he’d type up a short one-page condensed report tomorrow morning and send it with one of his operatives. He really considered charging extra for the hassle of going through all of this, but they wanted reports, and reports he would write. He did write them extremely passive-aggressively as a form of revenge though.

Done, he shut off the lamp by his chair, and went to the bed, and on cue, Elena looked up and laid out on the bed, and he finally laid down beside her. No sooner had he hit the final lights was she snuggled up against him like always, and both of them fell into a peaceful sleep.

***

_Riyadh Garrison, Saudi Arabia_

Betos stood in full armor, Mox behind her as she looked out into the assembled soldiers, all of whom were similarly in full armor, although they didn’t know for what. She’d just ordered a general assembly, quite possibly the last order she would ever give.

There was the very real possibility that there wouldn’t be enough soldiers who agreed, and they might try and stop her. But if that was the case, then so be it. At the very least it would let people know that they were not a monolith of unthinking drones who followed orders as if by inherent programming.

Still, out of all the combat operations she’d been in, this was the riskiest thing she’d ever done in her life. She waved to the soldiers. “Helmets off if you wish, this isn’t formal.” She had her own tucked under her arm, and there was a symphony or rustles, hisses of air, and clicks as many of the soldiers followed suit.

She surveyed the crowd, seeing the men and women who she’d commanded over the past few months. There weren’t any that she would personally say were bad people, they were the people that ADVENT needed, but from what she’d seen, the ones with her were the exception, not the rule. She’d probably had something to do with that as well.

“By now you’ve probably heard the news of ADVENT ordering the annexation of Canada,” she began. “I’ve also assumed you’ve seen the video of the human experimentation they used to justify their invasion. I think there is no question that the aliens have performed horrific acts, and those are likely not the worst they are capable of.”

She paused. A speechmaker, she was not, but she could only do her best. “But this is not unique to just the aliens. If one thing has become apparent to me, it is that all organizations and armies have their own dark secrets. It doesn’t matter the nation or person, but on some level, everyone knows the difference between right and wrong, else they would not try so hard to hide their crimes.”

Betos started pacing before them, having their attention as her address was not going how they expected. “All of us are soldiers. I was from Israel. Were there things my government was complicit in that were illegal? Very likely. I would challenge you to find a government that is not hypocritical in some way. But we’re all soldiers, we serve because ultimately, we believe they earned our loyalty, and we believe they are fighting for the greater good. We don’t have to worry about if we are on the right side or not, or question what we are doing, largely because we are not ordered to go against our internal sense of right and wrong.”

Betos stopped, and looked at the crowd, from left to right. “When the abuses are hidden, they can be ignored. We can go about our day ignorant, and that is how we rationalize it to ourselves, even though in some way, we suspect we are complicit in their actions by simply being loyal to them. But the question that I have been considering is what to do when the abuses are no longer hidden, but simply ordered and allowed.”

She shook her head. “ADVENT has allowed and ordered actions that I cannot support anymore. Their annexation of an independent nation, regardless of excuse, is something that cannot be ignored by me any longer. It is another in the list of abuse that has only become more apparent to me throughout our war in the Middle East.”

There was quiet muttering in the crowd now, but they were raptly focused on her. “We’ve been ordered to execute governments without capture or trial; we’ve been ordered to fire on civilian targets; we kill hostages to stop terrorists. All of this is done in the name of security and order. But at some point we can’t just ignore it any longer. ADVENT will not change, and for better or worse, their colors are on full display.”

She hesitated. “You can argue that it’s justified; that if such measures are not taken, we will die to the aliens. Perhaps, perhaps not. There is no way to know for sure. But I do know that ADVENT has taken the easiest path here, not necessarily the best. It is easier to kill than capture; it is easier to make war than peace; it is easier to command through fear than hope. It is a question of what humanity is to become.”

Her voice lowered. “I do not see a viable future for Humanity under ADVENT. I see an indisputable regime under the guise of freedom. The leaders of ADVENT are smart, they do not make the mistakes others do. Do they do it for the right reason? That I cannot say. But are they the best ones to lead humanity? No, that I do not believe anymore.”

“Every single one of us must make a choice here,” Betos continued. “Hiding behind the word _orders_ is that of a coward. We are not programmed machines, we are beings of free will. There is no ambiguity that can be ignored. We either support ADVENT, or we do not. Ignorance is no longer valid, there can be no excuses. I do not support ADVENT, and will not be complicit in their actions any longer.”

Now people began muttering, forming a low rumble in the crowd. “I will leave today,” Betos said over the noise. “I have no doubt I’ll be considered a traitor, but that is something I’m willing to accept. But doing nothing is something I cannot do anymore, and I know I am not the only one who has had doubts about ADVENT. But action must be taken now before it is too late. So those that wish to follow me, you may do so.”

She paused as the crowd quieted down. “And if some of you feel compelled to stop me, then that is your right. But my choice is made. It is now time to make yours.”

She put on her helmet and walked forward, and the crowd of soldiers became silent and parted before her. Mox was right behind her, and there were no signs of anyone stopping her. A good sign, she supposed, which meant she at least might get out of here alive. Then a soldier stepped behind her and began following, then another, and soon it was a wave of soldiers at her back as she headed towards the compound exit.

Betos glanced back, and saw that there were a few staying in place, but they were making no effort whatsoever to stop the throng of soldiers leaving. At the edge, the two perimeter guards came up to her. Her announcement had been broadcast to the base, so they knew what was going on. But it appeared they did not intend to leave.

Betos raised a hand and the soldiers behind her stopped, as she faced the guards. “Are you going to stop me?”

There was a tense moment of silence. “We are technically not under orders to bring you in,” he said. “But I am obligated to report this at the next interval, which I believe, is in two hours. Unless of course the antenna was damaged.”

Betos had a sad smile under her helmet. “Thank you. And I understand.”

He nodded his head. “I’d leave as soon as you could. The Peacekeepers are not as lenient as we are. I doubt this will be allowed to be repeated.”

Betos gave a single nod of acknowledgement. “No, it will not.”

“Good luck, Marshal,” he said, stepping aside. “But don’t forget who the real enemy is, and no matter what you believe, it is not ADVENT.”

Betos didn’t answer, but motioned for the soldiers behind her to load up in the Humvees and helicopters on-base. It was going to be a good while before they arrived at their destination. “I hope your friends are ready for us,” she told Mox beside her. “I didn’t think so many would join me.”

“I think they’ll be rather happy,” Mox said. “And if they don’t have room, well, they’ll make some.”

“I hope you’re right about this,” Betos said quietly. “I’m not a diplomat.”

“You convinced several thousand soldiers to leave,” Mox chuckled. “Getting a few African countries to work together should be simple.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Betos said as the sun set in the distance.

Next stop: Africa.

***

END OF ACT I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Act I ends, and I'm rather happy with how it turned out. I admittedly did not expect it to be quite this long, but it was needed and sets up things nicely going forward. So now that this is something of a break, I think I'll write something up on what exactly my plan is for this going forward.
> 
> At this point I'm planning at least seven acts for the Advent Directive, and how long each of those acts lasts will vary. It's also entirely possible I'll add another one later on if I think it needs it. The short version is don't expect this to be finished anytime soon, and I do have every intention of finishing it, one way or another. Without giving too much away, there is a lot of stuff going to happen in Act II.
> 
> The Reapers and Skirmishers (Who are not yet going by those names) are going to play a big role going forward, and Betos especially is going to have an extremely hard road ahead of her, as ADVENT isn't going to take her desertion lightly. The annexation of Canada is going to have lasting repercussions, and there is going to be a focus on the situations in other regions, especially in South America and Africa. ADVENT of course is going to keep doing what it's doing, but it's not going to be as easy going forward, as the aliens are going to actually try and be subtle. Or at least, more than they are.
> 
> And speaking of the aliens, more stuff with Nartha is actually coming, a lot more Ethereals are going to be introduced, and the Hunter and Assassin will make their debut relatively soon, though there will obviously be some different things from the expansion. Speaking of which, I'm not doing some of the more questionable things like the way the Chosen don't die, the Lost, and I still haven't decided if I'm going to actually put in the Templar psi-blades or not. Oh, and Geist will be showing up too.
> 
> And if any of you were unaware, I'm also writing a supplementary codex-like series that expands on quite a few topics, people, and units discussed in the story, and is usually updated after each chapter is posted with three or so files. It's in my profile as for those interested. You get to see Quisilia be snarky sometimes, so that may be incentive enough for some of you. Aliens and the Internet II will also be written sometime before Act II is finished, and maybe another file in a similar vein.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone reading this and providing their feedback. I plan for it to only get better from here.


	19. Preparing the Future

 

_Residence of the Chancellor, Switzerland_

Saudia just needed to rest. Being the Director of EXALT had been an exhausting amount of work, but being the Chancellor was somehow more strenuous than that. And while she welcomed it to an extent, they were actually changing the world after all, there were some days where everything threatened to become overwhelming.

And today was one of those days.

The designated home of the Chancellor was very luxurious, and she’d ordered it to be designed as somewhat reminiscent of the Bastion, with the carpets, chandeliers in a red and gold color scheme. It had some familiarity compared to being far away from what had been her home for decades. It was a little overly large for her tastes, especially since the extra space wasn’t used much, but right now she didn’t care.

It occurred to her, as she opened the door, that she really hadn’t spent that much time here to begin with. Unsurprising in retrospect, since she got the majority of her sleep on planes, convoys, or just sleeping on couches in her office. _Vacation_ was not something she was expecting to take anytime soon.

“Set up the usual perimeter,” she ordered her guard, not needing them to follow her inside. They nodded and began taking positions as she stepped inside. At least Ethan wasn’t on guard tonight, but he’d probably spent most of the day plotting out the guard rotations for her packed schedule of the next week.

That would have been enough of an ordeal, but the recent events had given her a lot more to be concerned about. Aside from the ever-present alien threat, which could strike from anywhere at any time, she now had to deal with the upcoming fallout from Canada, to some extent the Middle East, and now this desertion of soldiers.

Just thinking about the utter _stupidity_ of pulling a stunt like that _now_ was infuriating.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure it was wise to start a war with Africa to ensure that each and every one of those traitors was captured and executed. There were too many other, and somehow larger, concerns to deal with. The traitors could be obscured and their actions mitigated. It was the more visible issues that were pressing.

When those were dealt with, then the traitors could be dealt with.

“If you just want to go straight to bed, I won’t blame you,” Ethan said, walking in, dressed in a very casual gray shirt and shorts. He tossed the tablet in his hand onto a nearby couch once he saw her. “Or you could go and shoot some targets. I know I’d want to.”

“What the _fuck_ were they thinking?” Saudia growled, finally feeling free enough to speak her mind. “Do they not know _we’re fighting a war?”_

Ethan pursed his lips, took her stiffened form and guided her down to one of the leather couches in the room, which she sank into immediately. “The more likely explanation is that Betos was simply not fit to command, and she was given more authority than she should have had, despite her being a red flag.”

“Yes, yes, I _know_ ,” Saudia sighed wearily, closing her eyes and resting her head back. “Laura told me she believed that, despite the reservations of some soldiers, the aliens would keep most of them focused on the big picture. On the _actual threat_.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Ethan admitted, putting an arm around her, which she held onto with the opposite arm. Human contact had really been missing from her life the past few weeks. Handshakes didn’t cut it. “Betos is just a very short-sighted and naïve woman. At least it’s been mostly contained.”

“Except that they’re still out there,” Saudia said. “And I get the feeling they’re not going to stay quiet. They’ve somehow made _us_ the villain in this, which is ludicrous.”

Ethan actually chuckled. “I think that her effect will be minimal. There has been near-universal condemnation of any mention of that story from the other soldiers, especially those who’ve actually _fought_ the aliens. And the public will likely feel the same way, especially after you showed the video from the Sectoid hive.”

Saudia opened her eyes, staring up into the dull orange light of the chandeliers above. “I don’t know how long that will last though. They’ll be shocked for a few days, but they’ll go back to being a potential concern if the media decides to become hostile again.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Ethan mused. “Just like how France was suddenly wanting to join us after they were attacked, I think seeing what you showed might have the same effect on at least ADVENT media. I doubt the foreigners will care too much.”

“Hassan is going to have an interesting report for me,” Saudia muttered, adjusting her body to get more comfortable. “Things can’t stay the same now. But at the very least we shouldn’t have a Canada situation again.”

“Depends the reaction when we locate the traitors and demand we turn them over,” Ethan said. “Is any nation going to risk a few thousand soldiers over their precious sovereignty?”

“The problem is that unless she goes to a border country, we’d have to go through quite a few countries in Africa to do it, none who are particularly friendly to us. We can beat them, but it’ll take time we can’t afford to waste now.”

“Mhmm,” was the answer, and they both fell silent.

“I sometimes miss EXALT,” Saudia finally said after a few minutes of silence. “It was much simpler. Not a crisis every single day. Our enemies were usually beatable. Now there’s none of that.”

Ethan looked to her. “I suppose that’s the cost of being the most powerful woman in the world.”

“True,” she conceded, smiling for the first time since she’d arrived. “I suppose it should be more challenging…” her voice dropped. “But the problem is that this isn’t an enemy we can easily outsmart or outmaneuver. It’s a mismatch in every sense of the word. It’s not futility, not yet at least, but you saw what _one_ of those Ethereals can do. And there are at least a dozen more we don’t know about.”

“But they can be killed,” Ethan reassured her. “Everything can be. It’s just a matter of finding the right strategy or weapon. Once we have our own psions…the playing field becomes much more even.”

 _Or it’ll trigger a convergence of multiple Ethereals,_ Saudia thought grimly, though didn’t voice that thought. There was enough depressing news without her adding to it. “I suppose at worst, we’ll avoid ending up like the Vitakara or Mutons.”

“Really, I’m against ending up with anything that results in everyone dying,” Ethan said lightly. “And I think we both should rest before we think about any more depressing threats.”

“Good idea,” Saudia stood and gestured to the second floor. “I assume everything is set up?”

“Yep,” he said. “Housekeepers do their job well.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes then,” Saudia said, heading towards there. “I need a shower first.”

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Control, United States of America_

Saudia and Elizabeth stood in front of a screen which displayed the figure of Helsa Betos on it, as well as some additional information about her. Aside from the apparent decision to shave her head, there was nothing about her that stood out. No marks, tattoos, or anything that said anything other than _normal_.

She looked rather plain, in all honesty; not what Saudia was expecting. Although she apparently was charismatic and was clearly intelligent, so appearances could be deceiving. Yet there was very clearly something _off_ about her just from the picture. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was almost like Betos was _too_ ordinary.

She’d have to think about it some more. And it wasn’t relevant to the issue. “Did you find where she is?” Saudia asked Elizabeth, not looking to her.

“She has an army several thousand strong,” Elizabeth answered, almost sarcastically. “It’s not hard to locate it. The problem is that Betos isn’t an idiot. Even if no intelligence agents deserted with her, she was a Marshal. She knows at minimum the basics of how we operate, and my agents are keeping well back.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Still unknown,” Elizabeth audibly sighed. “She’s still going deeper south, but the list of probable countries is growing shorter by the day. She quite likely wants to establish some kind of alliance with one of the countries there. Only a few _might_ be acceptable for her. Nigeria seems the most obvious, but perhaps Sudan or Chad as well. I would suggest South Africa, but that seems too far south for her right now. She’s on a timer and knows it.”

Saudia’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. Ironic that her birthplace would house an army of traitors. “I almost regret we didn’t invest more into ensuring their government was in our control back in the day,” she said, not directly referencing EXALT, since even here it wasn’t entirely safe from listeners. Well, it probably was, but she didn’t like taking chances. “I never viewed it as a worthwhile investment. It is pitiful just how corrupt the entire continent is.”

“Tell Europe thanks for that,” Elizabeth muttered. “But in this case, I don’t think that will actually hurt us. You saw the report?”

Saudia nodded. “We can only hope events play out like that.”

Elizabeth twirled a pen between her fingers absentmindedly as she thought. “Africa, right now, does not care about the aliens. They’re stuck in their decades-long feuds and their politicians, or rather, dictators, are corrupt beyond measure. So what do you think is going to happen when one of those countries gets their hands on gauss level weaponry?”

“Point it at the nearest enemy and fire,” Saudia answered dismissively. “I know how they work. I grew up there, remember. If Betos starts an African Civil War, it might actually help us in the long run. Depending on who Betos encounters, she might decide to take action herself. Although then she would be an undisputed hypocrite.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Betos is an intelligent woman, in the traditional sense. But she has a much greater flaw, she is a _good_ woman. She is naïve and ignorant as to how the world works. Whatever fantasies she may have of African nations are likely false. How exactly is she going to maintain her self-righteousness when she deals with countries that deal heavily in human trafficking? Ethnic cleansing? Africa is almost as much of a mess as the Middle East in some respects, but the battles there are small; skirmishes between natives or governments putting down opposing parties of citizens.”

Elizabeth sounded even more amused as she continued. “She is going to have to make a choice. Either ally with the abhorrent leaders there, or force change to happen. And if she does the latter, what exactly differentiates her from us who she supposedly despises? If the former? Well, the headlines write themselves,” she raised a hand in the air, as if spelling out a headline. “‘ _Traitor to Humanity makes deal with known slavers’_ fitting, I’d say.”

Saudia felt a little better about the situation, now that it was clear this was _not_ going to turn out like how Betos was expecting. “And the reasons for her desertion have been kept quiet?”

“One of the first things me and Stein did,” Elizabeth assured her. “While I doubt it would have actually started mass defections, it would have created unnecessary problems. All the majority know is that Betos is a traitor that abandoned them when she was needed. As you can imagine, the majority are furious at her and for good reason.”

“And what of her soldiers that didn’t defect?” Saudia asked.

“Also handled,” Elizabeth nodded. “They have all agreed not to share actual details, and are being transferred to different Legions at the moment. Many of them were helpful. The media will talk about this for a while, but they don’t have enough information to keep the story going. Not to mention there are actual events to cover that are not rumors.”

Saudia pinched the bridge of her nose. “And I suppose the fallout from Canada has started?”

“Yes, but some of it was inevitable,” Elizabeth answered, starting to pace. “Your presentation of the alien experiments has quelled most of the civilian dissent that would have come up otherwise. Public approval took a small hit, but there were quite a few that were actually supporting the action. The Canadian population is torn between outrage at us, or outrage at the former Prime Minister for not doing something. They will not be a problem.”

“Good,” Saudia said approvingly. “It’s nice to know we’re not facing an immediate civil uprising.”

Both women chuckled at that.

“I find it funny that the European media has now taken up the ‘the people must act to change ADVENT’ tactic,” Elizabeth said with some amusement. “Really, what exactly are they going to do? March in protest? Attack us?”

“I think they forgot peaceful protest is legal,” Saudia said, feeling good enough to smile. “And it’s simple fear-mongering. What they still don’t realize is that an alien invasion takes priority. Everything else is secondary. If the image of humans being experimented on doesn’t make them realize that, well, then very little will. They will be reformed once the EU officially joins ADVENT.”

“In a refreshing change of pace, ADVENT media is actually deciding to focus on the aliens,” Elizabeth continued, grabbing a remote and switching to CNN. “The other part is all the pundits talking about the annexation and if it was ‘justified’ or not. But they’ve run stories on Japan, Portland, and France. Interviews with soldiers and everything. I doubt it will last, but at least the ones who control what’s broadcast aren’t completely blind.”

“And how are our operations against the aliens going?” Saudia asked, turning fully to Elizabeth.

“In comparison to everything else, very good,” she said. “Operations in Australia are proceeding _very_ well, and the rest of Oceania is following suit. It’s only a matter of time before they appropriately respond, but all of our agents are prepared for that. Unfortunately no one in Japan yet, but given how tight the aliens have locked it down, it’s understandable.”

“We need more intel in the States,” Saudia said, turning back to the screen. “Information on alien positions, numbers, and plans will be crucial when we launch our counterattack.”

“Noted, and will do it,” Elizabeth confirmed, pulling out her tablet and making a note. “The problem is that the aliens have a tendency to make every city into a fortress. Infiltration is difficult, but possible. There is another potential concern to be aware of. There seems to be a new kind of terrorist force working in South America. Specifically in Bolivia.”

Saudia frowned. “Explain.”

“We don’t know that much about them,” Elizabeth admitted, setting her tablet down again. “That’s the problem. They show up, hit really hard, and seem to vanish. These aren’t suicide bombers, or the old Islamic extremists. These appear to be almost professional assassins. Numbers in each attack range from one to as many as four, and to date, we haven’t killed a single one. They all appear to be excellent marksmen, and kill through primarily headshots and IEDs.” She grimaced. “The attacks have been few, but they’ve caused enough damage to warrant attention.”

That was concerning. “And you don’t know who they could be?”

“Descriptions of their attire don’t sound familiar,” Elizabeth shook her head. “Some kind of gas mask, trench coats, some apparently have body armor. One of the rare images shows a weapon that looks suspiciously similar to a Russian rifle.”

Saudia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Russia?”

“I doubt they’re behind this,” Elizabeth refuted. “But at the very least this weapon was based off of it. A knock-off perhaps. I showed the picture to a Russian weapons expert and he’d never seen that kind before. What’s also interesting is that they appear to have no goals, or stated motivations, other than attacking us-and _only_ us.”

“They’ve just hit military targets?” Saudia surmised.

“Yes,” Elizabeth confirmed. “Though this might only be because the number of attacks has been small. But we don’t know for sure, and that is the problem. It is possible this group is independent, but they seem too well-armed, well-trained, and dangerous to not be affiliated with someone. The question is who.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were independent, given how Luana has been acting,” Saudia sighed. “I thought Stein warned her to restrain herself.”

“She did,” Elizabeth said with a shrug. “I believe Luana is under the impression that because she allied with XCOM and joined ADVENT so quickly, that makes her immune to consequences. While she has brought some measure of order, I feel she’s causing more harm than good there.”

“She hasn’t officially broken a law yet,” Saudia reminded her. “But I will warn her that if she doesn’t restrain herself more, I’ll order her to be recalled. If you don’t mind, I’d ask you create a case supporting that order, because I have a feeling she’s going to force my hand sooner than later, especially if these terrorists continue attacking.”

“Copy that,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “The point is that I’m going to be dedicating a few agents to trying to figure out who is behind this. I doubt we’ll find them in the forests, but if they _are_ being supported by a foreign government, that I can find much easier.”

“Then do it,” Saudia ordered. “And in the meantime, I’ll deal with the other issues that are left.”

***

_Edmonton Garrison, Canada_

It was a stark contrast to the Middle East, at least to Roman’s eyes.

For the most part, the Canadians were taking what was essentially an occupation very well. Either ADVENT was extremely efficient, or the citizens just wanted some normalcy to return, but within a few days most were back to their day jobs, most of which didn’t rely on the government. Not to say there _wasn’t_ one, but ADVENT was handling that.

And so they’d been helping establish an actual Garrison outside the city the past few days. Roman really was impressed by just how _fast_ ADVENT could be when they really wanted to. The actual places for them to bunk were constructed within a couple days, even if it was just a shell. Roman didn’t mind it that much, all of them were used to sleeping on uncomfortable beds.

But now it was shaping up to actually be able to defend against an attack. Watchtowers were going up, although they weren’t like any he’d seen before, and they weren’t just restricted to the Garrison itself. They were being built around the city perimeter.

“[Keeps,]” Konstantin said to his side, as they all stood guard, watching the engineers and laborers at work.

Roman glanced to him. “[What?]”

“[Keeps,]” Konstantin repeated, gesturing to the towers. “[That’s what they remind me of. Those massive towers back in the Middle Ages, which were the last line of defense, and extremely difficult to penetrate.]”

Roman actually found that an apt comparison. If said Keeps were at least eight stories tall, with each floor packed with laser and gauss weapons, and culminating at the top with a number of AA equipment and missile defense systems which could only be described as ‘overkill’.

Although with the aliens, ‘overkill’ might not even be enough.

“[It’s certainly impressive,]” Maksim commented. “[Fits right into the peaceful cityscape behind it.]”

“[You mock, but I bet those towers will come in handy if the aliens ever attack here,]” Roman chided. “[Do _you_ want to go up against that thing?]”

“[Oh, no, I like it,]” Maksim corrected. “[But even you have to admit it’s not exactly fitting in.]”

“[At least this went off so smoothly,]” Galina added, taking the opportunity to clean her weapon since absolutely nothing was going on. “[If this were the Middle East, the Peacekeepers would be hunting down insurgents.]”

“[Luckily the Canadians are a bit more civilized,]” Stanislav said approvingly. “[And smart. A few days, and they see we’re not whatever lunatics the Prime Minister tried to sell them. Besides, I think some of them hate the former Prime Minister more than we did.]”

“[Wouldn’t you?]” Galina asked. “[If I saw my leaders refusing to do anything when… _that_ …was happening, I’d happily join the coup myself. No wonder the military helped us. They aren’t cowards.]”

“[Well said,]” Roman complimented, nodding her way. “[Luckily people like the good PM are being dealt with. Do we even know what happened to him?]”

There was a brief pause. “[I think he was taken away for a trial,]” Anton said, his voice uncertain. “[Probably military and behind closed doors. Either way I’m pretty sure we’ve seen the last of him.]”

“[Good riddance,]” Maksim said, raising a mock glass in a toast. All of them chuckled.

“[I’m more curious about how long this was actually in the works,]” Stanislav mused. “[There was no way this was decided in a few days. How does the Chancellor authorize an annexation anyway? Just gives the order?]”

“[No, it’s actually pretty complicated,]” Elena spoke up, standing in a more relaxed position. Even if she hadn’t told him, Roman knew she quite liked the country for the sights alone. “[From the guidelines that are public, there are two ways of ordering an annexation that I know. One is directly from the Chancellor, but they have to have pretty much every single organization sign off on it. So the Army, Navy, Peacekeepers, Intelligence, et cetera.]”

“[And the second?]” Roman asked.

“[I’m getting to that,]” she chided. “[The second is through the Congress. From what I can tell it’s introduced like normal legislation, and they vote on if it should be approved. It has to be a very solid case, otherwise that supposedly has repercussions. None of this is public either, everything is done behind closed doors. And if they do pass it, all that is needed is for the Chancellor to authorize it.]”

“[Interesting,]” Galina said. “[So I wonder which one the Chancellor chose?]”

“[She said she was ‘authorizing’ it,]” Roman recalled. “[Might be the wording, but it sounds like this went through the Congress in that case. Makes it look more diplomatic too; like she isn’t doing this as some kind of power grab.]”

“[If that’s the case,]” Galina said slowly. “[It means that this was planned _well_ before Japan. It might have just been a coincidence then. I wonder what made ADVENT angry enough to decide annexation was a justified option, beyond the government acting like idiots?]”

“[Even if Japan hadn’t happened, they’d probably still get support,]” Konstantin said firmly. “[They knew the aliens were doing that kind of stuff to us and still decided to do nothing. You don’t get to be neutral in this war. It’s one thing if they help us, but don’t want to join, but something completely different if they refuse to help at _all_.]”

“[That’s what doesn’t make sense,]” Elena sighed. “[ _Why_ did they not just let us go through and flank the aliens on the West Coast? It costs them nothing and we respect that. Is it that much to ask?]”

Galina snorted. “[The very short answer to that is because the Prime Minister was a pacifistic coward. End of story. He was a traitor and was dealt with like one.]”

“[Hey, on the bright side, at least he didn’t desert,]” Maksim said with false levity. “[Did all of you hear about it? It just broke a few hours ago.]”

Roman swung his head sharply to the marksman. “[Excuse me?]”

“[Seconded,]” Galina added.

“[Well, apparently nearly an entire garrison stationed in Saudi Arabia just left,]” Maksim explained, his tone becoming audibly angry. “[I wish I was making it up. But yeah, they honestly just deserted. Speculation is that they went somewhere in Africa.]”

There was a stunned silence. Roman coughed. “[I genuinely hope they were all mind-controlled to do that.]”

“[No psionics that have been reported,]” Maksim said grimly. “[Not that ADVENT would confirm either way, but I don’t think that’s the case. No official motivations were given, but with the timing, I wonder if the annexation had anything to do with it.]”

“[Fucking _traitors_ ,”] Galina growled, standing up and completely tense. “[Did they forget _we’re fighting a war!?_ ]”

“[No Galina, remember, ADVENT is a fascist dictatorship and the _actual_ enemy,]” Anton mocked, although he was clearly angry as well. “[Sarcasm, but I’ve actually seen posts like that online. That being said, I didn’t realize that those idiots were actually in the _military_.]”

Roman found it hard to comprehend why any soldier would desert _now_ of all times. Were they scared? Too selfish? He couldn’t actually believe they genuinely deserted because they felt that _ADVENT_ of all things was the enemy. The complete lack of logic to arrive at that conclusion was mind-boggling. “[Did they not see the video?]” He wondered out loud. “[Did they not see Japan, the United States, or _Australia_? How…]” He trailed off, shaking his head. “[What are they _thinking_?]”

“[I think,]” Galina said slowly. “[That they actually want to die, and they don’t want to get killed by aliens, so they make ADVENT hunt them down instead.]” She shrugged. “[Go and tell me that doesn’t make as much sense as whatever these traitors were thinking.]”

“[Suits me fine,]” Maksim agreed lightly. “[Well, I’m certainly rooting for ADVENT Intelligence to hunt them down. Not sure if I want them shot on sight or brought back alive for a highly public trial.]”

“[Waste of bodies,]” Stanislav shook his head. “[Put those traitors to something useful. Have their sentence being sent to become Human test subjects. Preferably to XCOM. Get some use out of them before they die.]”

“[Is that even a thing?]” Konstantin asked, Roman could imagine his eyebrow being raised.

“[I actually think so,]” Stanislav nodded. “[I was going through one of the Peacekeeper documents and one of the substitutes for the death penalty was ‘usage of the convicted for civilian or military experimentation’ or something like that. If anyone deserves capital punishment, it’s traitors.]”

“[If I had a cup, I’d drink to that,]” Maksim said approvingly. “[Hopefully they get killed by some disease in those jungles.]”

While that would be an ironic death, Roman was much more in favor of bringing them back, putting them on trial, and then…hmm…either means of capital punishment would be good. But while Stanislav made a good point about not wasting bodies, Roman knew he would quite enjoy putting down traitors.

And the best way to carry that out was with a bullet between the eyes.

He almost hoped he’d get that opportunity. If he wasn’t killing aliens, killing traitors would be nearly as satisfying. Maybe even a little bit more.

***

_ADVENT Command, Switzerland_

Saudia was expecting Hassan to be somewhat miffed at the latest developments, but at least he had been informed about them beforehand. Still, she wasn’t surprised her Chief Diplomat wasn’t exactly pleased with how things had gone.

“Working with you is not boring,” was one of the first things he’d said. “I can say that much.”

Now that they were settled, and were standing in front of a holomap, Saudia waited for him to begin. “The good news is that the damage isn’t as bad as it could have been,” he started. “Annexing countries tends to get people nervous. Smart to add some emotional weight to the situation and give some plausible reasoning behind it.”

“Of course,” Saudia nodded. “Now what have been the major changes?”

“Well, France is fully integrated into ADVENT,” Hassan began, motioning to the map of Europe. “Prior to the annexation, that was a massive blow to the EU, and even afterwards there is a lot of talk of more countries joining us. Some of it is due to fear, but some of the smaller nations think they will have more influence with us than sticking to the continually weakening EU.”

“They would,” Saudia said. “No question.”

“A fact I’ve been stressing to make when talking with representatives,” Hassan nodded, looking rather pleased. “Iceland, Ireland, and Poland are in talks with joining, and if they leave, more will soon follow. The main holdouts that remain are Spain, the UK, Finland and Sweden. The rest appear to be in a more neutral position.”

Saudia’s brow furrowed. “Curious. Why those specific ones?”

“Presumably because they are heavily tied to the EU and retain quite a bit of influence over that. All of which would be lost under ADVENT. That, and in the case of Spain and the UK, they don’t like the idea of not being independent. Finland hates Russia, and Sweden is more ideologically opposed to ADVENT, similar to Canada.”

At least Sweden wouldn’t give her nearly the same problems. Saudia couldn’t envision a scenario right now where they became relevant. At least not unless the war arrived in Europe. “They’ll come around eventually. All we need to do is keep weakening the EU bit by bit. If we start a domino effect, the rest will fall into place.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Hassan confirmed with a nod. “But I think we can take our time with Europe for the moment. We slowly erode their power, and eventually assimilate them. I’ll focus on the three countries mentioned, and then move onto the next ones. The biggest issue coming from Europe isn’t the countries necessarily, but the media.”

“But the governments are staying quiet on the issues,” Saudia noted grimly, thinking. “They’re being rather cheeky. England especially since some of the organizations get government funding. Even if they aren’t giving the orders, simply allowing them to run anti-ADVENT propaganda is tantamount to supporting it.”

“Agreed,” Hassan said, handing her a sheet of paper. “I inquired about this, and the British Parliament sent this back which essentially says that ‘they will look into this’.”

“Translation: We aren’t going to do anything,” Saudia muttered as she read the piece of paper. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do to stop it short of threats, and I would prefer not to resort to that.”

“Mhmm, and that brings up something I want to discuss,” Hassan said, moving around the other side of the holotable to face her. “Public opinion is highly polarized on ADVENT. Much as you want people to focus, quite rightly, on the aliens, most don’t think like that. People resist change, and to be brutally honest, you haven’t done that much to actually persuade people that ADVENT is indeed an improvement.”

He waved a hand aimlessly. “I’m surprised it’s taken this long for you to understand this. There are a lot of good things about ADVENT; progress that’s been stalled for decades. At the same time, ADVENT is far less forgiving of idiocy, and guess what ends up in the news? Videos of Peacekeepers putting down protesters and annexing countries. Remove context for the moment, that doesn’t look good.”

Saudia winced. “In the grand scheme of things, a focus on PR seemed minor compared to an alien invasion.”

“Fair enough, but it can quell some of the worries at home,” Hassan said. “TV interviews and your ADVENT reporting isn’t going to cut it. You’re relying on an educated and critically thinking population, which I’m afraid isn’t representative of most people. That won’t come for several generations, assuming we win.” He paused. “This isn’t my area of expertise, but you should put some effort into addressing this.”

“Don’t worry,” Saudia assured him. “I’ve established an actual Public Relations agency, which will go into effect soon. I already have someone tasked to lead it.”

An eyebrow rose. “Really? Excellent,” he cleared his throat. “Returning to the topic at hand, that wraps up most of Europe. Little has changed in the Middle East, aside from the desertion, and Karen is working as hard as she can to restore the area. Slow going, but things have…stabilized. But there is a potential liability in the region.”

Saudia waited. “Which is?”

“Two, actually,” he corrected. “Egypt and Turkey. This isn’t necessarily related to the Middle East conquest, but due to their status as _wildcards_ of the region. Turkey especially should be addressed. They have a large standing army, and hold some crucial parts of land which lead directly to Russia and Europe, and coincidentally, right to the Middle East itself. Their position is largely why they were so valued in NATO.”

She frowned. “Do you think they might attack?”

“No,” Hassan said hesitantly. “But they might make life difficult for us there. Their army would be extremely useful, but there is a sizable part of their population that is, I would say, _fundamentalist._ Which translates to Islam is still practiced there, although not as much as it was, and as a result the people there are not exactly happy with us.”

“I suspect the issues don’t stop there,” Saudia guessed. “Armenia being part of ADVENT is likely something they aren’t thrilled with. ”

A grim smile grew on Hassan’s face. “No, they certainly are not. And your under-the-radar acknowledgement of the Armenian Genocide is also something they take…issue with. The problem is that their government is much smarter than the rest of the Middle East, and stays out of truly extremist activities. They prefer working through proxies and the like. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’ll ever assimilate into ADVENT willingly, not with the current leadership.”

“So do you have a proposal?” Saudia asked.

“Not a diplomatic one at this point,” he sighed. “No, I’m not suggesting anything drastic yet. But I want to at least try and open negotiations with them. At the very minimum they might be willing to work with us.”

Saudia frowned. “They are a nuclear power. That should be taken into account.”

“Technically true,” Hassan acknowledged. “On paper. In practice…their nuclear weapons aren’t as much of a problem because they aren’t actually their own.”

Saudia recalled something like this now that he brought it up. “They were a part of the nuclear sharing agreement.”

“Correct,” Hassan nodded. “And it doesn’t help that the nuclear weapons they _do_ have are simple bombs; nothing like modern nuclear weapons. If the United States were to request their bombs back, Turkey would likely comply because they know that if they don’t, it would give us a reason to deal with them permanently. Like I said, they might not like us, but I don’t think they’ll get in our way. Thus, negotiation for now.”

“Attempt it then,” Saudia nodded. “But don’t waste more time than necessary.”

“Understood,” Hassan focused to a new point of the map. “You’re already familiar with how things are in Canada and the United States, so I won’t repeat it. However, Mexico is finalizing their integration into ADVENT.”

Saudia smiled. “Excellent.”

“South America, on the other hand…” he scratched his chin. “Very little progress. The Southern nations like Argentina, Chile, and Peru are staunchly against any sort of integration, largely thanks to the infamous reputation of Miss Luana. I would encourage that she be put in charge of the Brazilian Legion and get her out of what is essentially a perpetual military state. That isn’t representative of ADVENT, and she’s had plenty of time to put together at least preliminary elections.”

Saudia snorted. “Luana and elections? I see you haven’t actually met her. But I do agree. She’s becoming too unreliable, and Stein will step in if she doesn’t calm down soon. We’ll have to allow some time for things to settle, but I don’t think South America will become a major battleground for some time.” She didn’t mention that Elizabeth was looking into several of the mentioned nations. Depending on what she found, Luana may retain some usefulness then.

“Let us hope,” Hassan agreed. “Now…I have given your statement to various African representatives regarding turning over the traitors, should they request asylum. That being said, I’m not expecting much success. Many are unfortunately notorious and corrupt, which I’m sure you are aware of. Some of them would have no problem lying directly to us, and I suspect they are too focused on their own internal politics to really care what is happening outside their nations.”

“I am aware,” Saudia confirmed, resting her back against the wall. “I’m not concerned with them right now. If they cooperate, good, if not, we’ll take steps to correct that. But they are a secondary concern at best right now. What about China?”

“Radio silence,” Hassan answered immediately. “They are staying out of anything relating to ADVENT, and their diplomats have refused to give the ruling Communist Party’s official stance on our annexation of Canada. Or anything else for that matter. They appear to be very unsettled, and are going out of their way to not antagonize us, or even get our attention.”

“Interesting,” Saudia mused. “But nothing has changed aside from that?”

“Not especially,” he shrugged. “But their ranking diplomat _did_ imply that if ADVENT required assistance, or something else from China, it might be provided.”

That was certainly good news. “That’s all we need,” she said approvingly. “In that case, they might be useful when the aliens attack Korea or when we counterattack Japan.”

“Hopefully,” Hassan said slowly. “But I don’t think we’ll know for certain unless we _really_ need them. Until then we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Or until the aliens attack China,” Saudia added. “That might force them to do _something_.”

“Given a choice between destruction and ADVENT, I would assume they’d choose ADVENT,” he agreed. “But I think that the aliens know this too. I’m not sure they would attack even if they could win easily.”

“Quite possibly,” Saudia noted grimly. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

“The only other event of note is the religious summit you wanted planned,” Hassan reminded her, cocking his head. “I do hope you actually _remember_ that, yes?”

Ah. That. Truth be told Saudia had let it fall from her priorities in the past weeks, even if it was her idea initially. It was something that needed to happen sooner or later, and she’d rather have things figured out with the various religions before one of them decided to do something stupid. That being said, she was not relishing that particular meeting.

Although now that she was thinking about it, she figured she might as well get a head start on it. Maybe make it clear that certain things wouldn’t be tolerated under ADVENT, specifically with the Catholic Church. “When is the date again?” She asked. “I had it for next month, correct?”

He briefly looked down. “Yes, the twenty-first. Summons were sent out a few days ago, and only a few responses so far, which is to be expected.”

“Probably wondering what the goal is,” Saudia muttered. “But I want to meet a few of them ahead of time. Clear the air, so to speak.”

Hassan furrowed his eyebrows. “And that means?”

“That means I want a meeting scheduled with the Vatican,” Saudia said vaguely. “And put Elizabeth on this as well. Stein too.”

He smiled grimly as he saw her goal. “Is this an investigation or a meeting?”

She echoed his humorless smile. “Both, I think. And they won’t necessarily be the last either. Organized religion seems to attract criminals in some cases. That kind of hypocrisy is intolerable to me.”

“It will be done,” he promised. “I believe that covers everything important.”

Saudia nodded. “Keep up the good work. In the meantime, I need to actually speak with the new Manager of Public Relations.”

***

_ADVENT Command, Switzerland_

Saudia had considered an exhaustive list of candidates for a manager of public relations. Public spokesmen, diplomats, business managers, speechwriters, and even some filmmakers and artists. Anyone who could craft and design a message and more importantly, convince other people to believe it. Someone able to manage multiple media campaigns and equipped with an understanding of human psychology would also be essential.

Finding people who had those qualities wasn’t especially difficult. The problem was they would have to be reliable and especially have the motivation and loyalty to carry out what would be at the best of times, a difficult job. Unfortunately, not many of those people existed and she wanted to avoid people who hadn’t had experience on similarly sized projects. Relatively, at least.

The good news was that she had found such a person. Kyong Suk-Chul had over twenty years of experience managing public relations for an entire country, was extremely well-educated with degrees in psychology, telecommunications, and interestingly enough, English composition. He spoke English, Chinese, and Korean flawlessly, and had a rudimentary understanding of Russian and Spanish. At only forty-five, he was incredibly young for such an esteemed position.

Said esteemed position was the Head of the KCNA, the former state media of North Korea. On paper he was simply the head of one of the few media companies allowed in the country. In reality, he was the one in charge of North Korean propaganda.

That alone had made several advisors want to dismiss him, not because of the position itself, but because putting the one behind decades of North Korean propaganda in charge of PR _might_ look suspicious. That was indeed a risk, but Kyong had successfully controlled the population of an entire country through mostly non-violent means, and that was the kind of expertise she needed here.

However, she’d entertained other suggestions, and they unsurprisingly hadn’t been able to come up with someone with similar or superior qualifications. Iseul had assured her that Kyong was perfect for the job, and while she was taking _that_ endorsement with a grain of salt, he quite clearly knew what he was doing.

The first major meeting was today, and she’d tasked him with designing a comprehensive strategy for reducing civilian unrest and increasing the perception of ADVENT in both a domestic and international sense. A tall order, and she was curious what he would have for her.

Saudia reached the designated room where he was to meet her, and opened the door after gesturing for her personal guard to leave her be. It was pretty clear that anything discussed in this room would be as confidential as possible. After making sure the door was locked, she turned to see Kyong Suk-Chul sitting at the end of the small square table, reading something on a tablet.

He looked up as she entered, and placed the tablet down next to a neat stack of folders, then stood. He was much smaller than her, but he didn’t seem concerned by the size difference, as it was only a few inches. His black hair that had strands of gray in it was neatly combed back, and his face was cleanly shaven.

“Chancellor,” he greeted, almost no trace of an accent in his voice. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“You as well,” she answered, inclining her head as she took his extended hand for a single shake. “I trust you’ve acclimated to your position?”

“Exceptionally,” he smiled. “What was not suitable to me, I simply requested changed. Having the freedom to establish this operation as I see fit has helped considerably, with your overall guidelines taken into account of course.”

Saudia clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m curious what you have to show me. You have a plan?”

Kyong motioned to the whiteboard behind him, on which he’d written a few boxes of text. “Perception is what needs to be controlled, Chancellor. Not an easy task by any means, but completely doable if you have the correct tools and the resources to apply them to a global scale. There are several major areas of focus regarding _perception_ , and the most obvious are the Peacekeepers, the ADVENT Administration itself, the Military, and the aliens themselves.” He followed the drawing he had written on the board. “To further complicate matters, this has to be applied to the differing perspectives of both domestic and foreign populations. The goal is to not simply appease the ones living in ADVENT, but be alluring to the ones who live outside it as well.”

He looked briefly at Saudia. “Chancellor, what is a sign of an effective government?”

She thought for a few seconds. “A controlled population and effective legislature.”

“Generic, but I would tend to agree,” Kyong said. “But control is not enough. Squeeze too tight and you create an army with nothing to lose, and generate sympathy for them by those in power. Be too lax and you have anarchy. No, my experience has been that the most effective governments have populations that are _content_.”

Saudia frowned. “That could be subjective depending on the person.”

“I said _content_ , not _happy_ ,” Kyong corrected. “ _Happiness_ is subjective. People need certain things in their life, and the standard of living has continually risen. Food, housing, medicine, internet, electricity, provide a person with the basic necessities, and they may not necessarily be _happy,_ but they will be _content_. Why should they support a revolutionary or questionable politician when they are being provided everything they need to survive?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “All that are left are ideologies. The suppression of media, the removal of freedoms, all of these can be defeated simply by a correct application of arguments and critical thinking. Morality is the one consistent argument against us, and it is weak; relying on traditional and outdated values that fail to hold up in this war. But the reason people rally behind ideologies isn’t necessarily that they believe them, they just view the commanding administration as worse. But should their basic needs be provided for; if they are shown again and again how ADVENT being in charge directly improves their life, any argument levied against it will be completely dismissed.”

He smiled. “The architects of the Advent Directive, whoever they were, appear to have understood this. To truly fix the mistakes of the old governments, new ones must be built from the ground up, free of political ideologies, money, or influence. I’m quite impressed by it.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Saudia commented. “Eloquent, but how do you plan to apply this?”

“Very simply,” Kyong began, picking up one of the folders. “The biggest issue right now is that much of the coverage surrounding ADVENT has been negative. And ADVENT media has been neutral at best, at times going after the lies published by media outlets and refuting them. While effective, after a certain point, the negativity can become overwhelming for people. Then it becomes a war over who can weaponize the negative coverage best.”

He raised a finger. “However, there is a very simple antidote to this: Positivity. No, it isn’t a joke. People always respond better to good news than bad. They attempt to control by manipulating and stoking fear, anger, negative emotions that they hope will be taken out on their opponents, while at the same time not offering any substance as to why _they_ are any better.” He smiled grimly. “The United States political system was rather notorious for this.”

Saudia gave a wry smile at that. “Most democratic systems are.”

“Which is why there is a unique opportunity here,” Kyong continued. “The reason this has now become so prevalent is that the narrative is completely reactionary from ADVENT. You order a controversial action, and it soon gets weaponized by your opponents. By the time you attempt to clarify further, much of the damage is done. The media, Chancellor, is like a parrot. It repeats back whatever it sees, and only later is opinion added. To be fair, you haven’t given many positive stories to tell, and that does not need to be the case.”

He picked up one of the folders and handed it to her. “Read this, Chancellor,” She did. It was a list of names, none of which she recognized.

She cocked her head at him. “And this is?”

“As a result of the decriminalization of certain substances, you had given the order that prisoners incarcerated for those crimes were to be pardoned,” Kyong explained. “That is a sample of the list of names. And if I understand correctly, you were planning to officially do this rather quietly. Why?”

She thought back. That event had actually been one she’d ordered quite a while ago, something Stein had brought up when they were…well, doing something. It had seemed simple to her. No point keeping people imprisoned who were in jail for a crime that was no longer one. Besides, the people freed would no doubt remember ADVENT was the one who’d been behind this. “I didn’t see a reason to,” she answered with a shrug. “This is just the result of a policy change, and I believed there were more important aspects to have the focus be on.”

“With respect, Chancellor, that is completely incorrect,” Kyong said with a smile. “You vastly underestimate how much people _don’t know_ about your new policy changes. Out of curiosity I looked at one of the few polls out there, and while I’m certain it wasn’t entirely accurate, there was an alarming percentage of people who _don’t understand_ how ADVENT works.”

He tapped a finger on the table. “Assume we are dealing with an uneducated public, Chancellor, how is that fixed?”

“Education, obviously,” Saudia nodded. “Different formats to target different demographics.”

“Exactly,” Kyong said approvingly. “We are dealing with two different generations here: Older and younger, each with different ways of influencing them. The traditional media is largely what the older generations, normally those fifty and older, consumes. Most of them get all their knowledge about politics from them, like it or not. Most people prefer to have others tell them what to think. There is no reason we cannot exploit that.”

He paused to take a breath. “Returning to the mass pardons, this is an exceptional opportunity to not only inform the population that ADVENT is not only harsh on criminals, but recognizes and executes _justice_. This will be a public event where Stein will make the announcement. I guarantee that it will be the main subject for days afterwards, provided there are no more alien attacks.”

Saudia quite liked the idea, with some reservations. “I’m not sure that will be portrayed as completely _positive,”_ she said. “There are some people who will be opposed to it.”

“Largely older generations, and their relevance is fading,” Kyong dismissed. “And I’d think you’d be surprised. It’s all in presentation. But think on the other aspects of ADVENT that you could highlight with simple press conferences. Free healthcare to all citizens; tuition-free higher education; government investment in start-ups and small businesses. The goal, Chancellor, is to focus on what ADVENT actually _is_ , not what it’s rumored to be. Run tours in Peacekeeper training, give demonstrations of the technology being used; give the media access to certain parts of the Congress of Nations; give them access to battlefields and show the alien threat first hand. Do you notice a theme in this?”

Saudia nodded once. “We control the narrative. They react to what we are doing, and can’t ignore it because if they do, someone else will cover it.”

“And turn their need for ratings against them,” Kyong finished smugly. “ADVENT is simply too big to ignore. _We_ are the story, and they know it, and much as their agenda may not favor us, they _need_ us right now.”

“I’m impressed,” Saudia said. “Your plan seems satisfactory so far.”

“Which is only one aspect,” Kyong said, picking up another folder and flipping through it. “Now, the other important part that needs to be dealt with are the younger generations. Millennials and below. Ultimately, they are the ones growing up in ADVENT, and will be responsible for the future when we are gone. _They_ are the demographic that needs to be targeted. They are potential soldiers and members in ADVENT which we need. The question is, of course, how to reach them.”

“The internet,” Saudia supposed. “Social media, things like that.”

“No.” Kyong stated flatly. “At least not like how you’re thinking of it. While ADVENT certainly needs a social media presence, having a twitter account or Facebook page isn’t going to cut it. They’ll never trust a government entity, at least not completely. No, who has the most influence over the younger generations?”

Saudia grimaced. “Celebrities.”

Kyong chuckled at her derision. “That they do, unfortunately. Artists, singers, filmmakers, vloggers; these are the people who they look up to and admire. So while they might not believe an ADVENT official telling them that the Peacekeepers aren’t a suppressive organization, if their favorite YouTube star were to say the same thing, they will likely believe it.” He smiled sardonically. “Remember, many people like to have their thinking done for them.”

He handed her the folder. “In there is a list of some of the largest so-called ‘internet personalities’. Most have millions of followers, subscribers, or some equivalent of numerical fame. The topics range from politics, weapons, history, debate, video games, whatever you can imagine. And I would say that those numbers are not entirely accurate since there are many who aren’t registered who follow these people.”

“So what is your suggestion?” Saudia asked. “Hire them to reach their fans?”

Kyong snorted. “I’d prefer not to be so blunt. It’s unnecessary. But certainly reach out to them, give them some kind of access to something relevant to their blog or channel. Interviews with people of actual influence, tours of the Congress of Nations and Military training bases. Daring ones could be taken to areas near the front lines, the possibilities are not exactly few.”

Saudia nodded slowly. She was honestly surprised by how much he knew about this subject. The population of North Korea was very different from the rest of the world, but he still understood it like an expert, and this was one area she hadn’t really put much thought into. “I like it. Although I suspect there are some who hold negative opinions towards us.”

“Oh, certainly,” Kyong dismissed. “But generally political focused personalities, and even then most seem split at best, largely because many _look_ at information available to them. What is especially helpful is that it is not easy to put ADVENT into a very clear box most people are used to. Aspects are more right-wing, but others are left-wing. The combination of the two is something some people have issues grasping.”

That was something Saudia could easily believe. “While it may be more traditional, I think we should also expand our own media propaganda. Recruitment, PSAs, that sort of thing. It has been lax in that regard.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Kyong nodded with a smile. “Short videos are best for that sort of thing. The better the presentation, the more people will be convinced. No need to do this internally. Do you really think the directors from what’s left of Hollywood wouldn’t jump at the chance to direct them with a nearly unlimited budget, and for a clearly good cause? Do you know how many artists out there would give up nearly everything to ply their craft not only for the cause, but to be officially recognized by ADVENT?” His smile grew. “I wouldn’t mind a return to the era of propaganda posters. Some of the art then really was excellent.”

“Perfect,” Saudia nodded. “What else is left?”

“I believe that covers the main points,” Kyong said slowly. “However, one thing to consider is that these are impersonal. The one thing that will change hearts and minds is people actually interacting with the men and woman of ADVENT, and if _they_ have a personal stake in what is happening. This would be something that needs to be organized on local levels, but I believe Commander Christiaens has proposed bringing back the tactic of trench warfare?”

“Correct,” Saudia confirmed. “I will be discussing that with her later, in fact.”

“Exactly what is needed,” he said approvingly. “The task may be a daunting one, but people have attachments to their homes, do they not? Why not include them in the task of preparing their city for an attack? Compensate them of course, have it be organized, give them the tools and motivation needed to do the job. Soldier and civilian working side by side would do a lot to ease tensions and change minds.”

He looked up rather thoughtfully. “It doesn’t need to stop there. Send out emails and fliers advertising city events with Peacekeepers, leaders, and soldiers; give the public the ability to interact with ADVENT and ask questions. Let them know the Drug Recovery Centers and Mental Treatment Institutions are available for usage. Find the homeless on the streets and give them what they need to be productive and content members of society.” He paused briefly. “People believe propaganda is simply lies, and to an extent, it always is. But propaganda is the art of manipulating the narrative, and without question, the most effective propaganda, Chancellor, is that which is true.”

At that Saudia knew she’d made the right choice in appointing him. Propagandist or no, he was exactly what was needed. “Give me the details of what you need,” she ordered. “I want this implemented immediately.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” he answered with a smile. “I look forward to properly starting.”

***

_Busan, South Korea_

“[You need to evacuate Seoul,]” Duri told Sandara without any ambiguity. “[It’s too dangerous to stay there.]”

His wife looked utterly exhausted and wrecked, which wasn’t surprising given that he’d only managed to let her know he was actually alive in the past couple days, and it had taken a couple more to actually set up some time for them to speak. Japan had everyone in the region on edge, and Duri knew there were already efforts to begin evacuating people into North Korea.

The irony of the situation didn’t escape him.

But times changed and he knew _very_ clearly that North Korea wasn’t an enemy anymore. They’d proven that they were more than capable of supporting soldiers that weren’t of their nation, as Kang had proven right before he’d died. Whatever the past, they were all united in fighting back the invasion. Still, he wasn’t excited about any of them going to North Korea without him, mostly because he didn’t know _what_ was actually there.

 _“[And you’re just going to stay there?]”_ Sandara asked sadly. _“[You almost died.]”_

“[But I _didn’t_ ,]” he emphasized. “[And there are probably going to be a lot of times I’m put in danger before this ends. Not that I like it…but it’s what I signed up for. To protect people. To protect you and the girls.]”

 _“[I…]”_ she trailed off, looking away. _“[I know. But it was almost impossible to get through those days. I’d thought you’d died there. And I wasn’t the only one.]”_

Duri rubbed his forehead. “[Just remember that it always takes a few days to verify for certain. Don’t assume the worst right away.]”

 _“[A bit easier for you,]”_ she sighed. _“[It’s not like you always have to worry about if we are in danger or not.]”_

“[And I’m going to keep it that way,]” he said firmly. “[Your safety is more important than mine. As long as you’re safe that’s all I need to know.]”

A moment of silence lapsed between them. _“[I’ll get ready to move. They’re encouraging evacuations here as well. The girls are nervous about the whole thing. They’re getting more scared and I don’t know what to say to them. I can’t twist everything as a big adventure.”_

“[Just keep reminding them that I’m fine and they’ll be safe up there,]” Duri told her. “[The aliens, for better or worse, are being methodical. We can accurately predict where they’re going to go next and what the next points of attack will be. If they reach Seoul…then you can start to worry. But they aren’t anywhere close to that.]”

 _“[Hopefully the next time we talk I’ll be able to tell you what it’s like up there,]”_ she said after a few seconds. _“[You always did want to see what North Korea was like.]”_

“[True,]” he recalled. “[Be sure to take pictures.]”

She gave a wan smile. _“[Of course I will. Be safe.]”_

“[I’m doing my best,]” he told her. “[I love you.]”

 _“[I love you too,]”_ she answered. _“[I’ll see you later.]”_

The screen cut out, and left Duri alone sitting there with his thoughts. He was tired and needed some decent amount of rest. It had been non-stop since they’d evacuated Japan, and he’d personally felt he was lucky to be one of the survivors in the face of…whatever that alien had been. Half his team was dead, Beatriz was still recovering, and in general things were _not good_.

No one knew just how soon the next attack was going to come, but they were preparing for the worst. Busan had the largest military base close to the coast, so it was likely where the aliens would attack next in this region. Preparations were still being made, but he suspected that the real focus was going to be on converting Seoul into a fortress in the event the coast fell.

It was harsh, but Duri could understand the need to focus on that city, even if it meant they were writing off the coast in all but words. Not that _nothing_ was being done, it just wasn’t nearly ready.

And the whole situation with Japan was _not_ counting that there had been a lot of other events happening in the world. Canada had been annexed, which he’d found surprising until he’d actually seen the Chancellor give her justification, and from seeing the aliens firsthand…he couldn’t exactly feel sympathetic to the Canadian government.

Anyone who _wasn’t_ working to defeat the aliens weren’t people worthy of consideration at best, and should be considered traitors at worst. Or were cowards. It was unfortunate for the people, but hopefully ADVENT treated them well.

And _then_ the news had broken of a group of soldiers who’d _deserted._

_Deserted._

Duri felt furious just thinking about that. He’d never wanted to personally kill someone before, but if he ever met those traitors then he’d be sorely tempted to do so. It was so unfathomably _selfish_ that he’d almost gaped when he’d heard it. It was one thing to desert in a war, but it seemed on a completely different level to just… _leave_ when the fate of their entire species was at stake.

He’d quite liked Cara’s take on it, which she’d so eloquently stated after throwing her cup into a wall after he’d told her. _“Kang and Johan are dead, Beatriz is still unconscious, the aliens are cutting up babies and killing us by the hundreds, but these fucking traitors ran like cowards because ADVENT had the fucking nerve to stop that fucking moron running Canada!”_

Just thinking of that made him feel a little better. For some reason he’d thought that the stakes in this war would prevent that sort of thing from happening. But apparently not, which was rather sad. Still, he was certainly going to drink a toast to whoever ended up putting those traitors down, provided he was still alive.

He stood and walked out of the room. There wasn’t anything else to do at the moment, so he figured he might as well find where Cara had gone to. They’d likely get new soldiers in a few days, but for now all they could do was wait.

***

_ADVENT Research Command, Brazil_

“When XCOM provided much of their research to us, it expedited our own programs significantly,” Munju said as he guided Saudia into the lab. “Since many of XCOM’s own genetic projects were similar to our own, I have simply applied them as-is, and we are expanding further into areas XCOM has not. That we know of, that is.”

Saudia nodded as they stepped in front of several glass cages where there were multitudes of animals and flora inside them. “If that is the case, what are you making advances into?”

“Many of the new genetic enhancements are in the theoretical stages,” Munju explained, rubbing his chin. “At least as they are applied to Humans. I want to look into more…radical forms of alteration. Their Stinger modification was quite genius, and I want to look more into that particular line of research.”

He motioned her over to a small glass habitat, of which there were beetles inside. Saudia had never developed a fondness for insects, so she wasn’t particularly thrilled. “Beetles?”

“Bombardier beetles, to be specific,” Munju clarified with a smile. “Completely normal, aside from the defense mechanism where they eject a chemical spray. Harmless to Humans, of course, but that particular addition on a Human soldier might have a potent effect, especially if the chemical sprayed was a dangerous acid or poison. A promising line of research.”

He waved her forward, and she followed, curious. “But not the only one.”

Munju snorted. “Of course not. Although perhaps my easiest. _This_ is one of my most radical.” They stopped in front of a glass cell, of which inside was what _looked_ like a Human. But it was as if the Human was stretched and elongated, especially in the torso; stretching it out far beyond what was normal. Saudia almost winced, as it looked extremely painful and the subject was clearly still alive. “I suppose you have an explanation?”

“That is phase one,” Munju clarified, looking rather pleased. “First, to see if Human height, mass and overall size can be adjusted. This clearly proves they can be, but there are some…improvements that need to happen before I move forward at all. The proportions are…” he clicked his tongue. “ _Wrong_. It looks unnatural, which should not be the goal.”

Saudia glanced down to him. “Yes, but what is the point?”

“The creation of a superior Human, of course,” he stated confidently. “Or at least one that can be specialized. I was inspired by the Ethereals themselves, and I believe a second set of limbs would be a worthy goal to pursue. It would revolutionize nearly everything about our society.” He motioned to the test subject. “However, such an addition is impossible with Human body sizes, so those must naturally be changed.”

Saudia was slightly nonplussed at the image of that. While in some cases she could see how that _would_ be an advantage, in a purely objective view, additional limbs seemed very unsettling. It was such a radical change that she wasn’t sure if that could really be classed as a Human, but something else. She _definitely_ didn’t see it being applied to anything more than a few specialized soldiers; certainly not the entire species at large.

Innovation was good, but there was such a thing as _too_ radical. It seemed to her like the manipulation of Human characteristics was more useful, rather than the straight addition of additional limbs. “Perhaps,” she relented carefully. “But I would prefer our focus be kept on immediate applications. While interesting, additional sets of limbs wouldn’t provide us with a clear advantage against the aliens.”

“Mhmm, I would argue otherwise,” Munju said thoughtfully. “But your point is made. In which case, I have another project to show you.”

She followed him through the sterile room until they were in what almost looked like a kennel due to how many dogs were in it. She noticed all of them were large, and had a history of being used for hunting. In fact, she was pretty sure there were several wolves in the mix. “The aliens have animals they have bred for war in those Chryssalids,” Munju began, motioning to the dogs. “I do believe we have our own equally valuable species. Dogs have always been excellent hunting companions historically, yet have fallen out of that particular role when their usefulness was reduced due to technology. However, with MELD we can turn them into highly effective and intelligent hunters of aliens.”

He specifically directed her to look at one of the dogs. It was a German Shepard, but this one was _distinctly_ different. Its eyes were rimmed with gold, and its fur was thinner, allowing her to see the muscles bulging underneath it. Its mouth was open and its tongue hung out, showing its teeth which were longer than a normal dog’s and had a silver tint to them. Most noticeable of all, it stood nearly to her stomach, which had to have been twice its original height.

“This is the first success of Project Molosser,” Munju said proudly, pressing some buttons and opening up the glass cage, which slid up, and the dog happily trotted out. She resisted the urge to step back as the dog came to her, and she knew it was definitely capable to killing her if it wanted. But all it did was look up at her expectantly, and she tentatively held out her hand which the dog promptly sniffed.

“The good news is that canine minds are far simpler than Human minds,” Munju explained proudly, petting the dog on its head. “Some alterations to its mind make them incapable of attacking Humans, but that modification doesn’t seem to change their attitude towards us overmuch. We will likely remove such restrictions when we perfect the breed, but for now it is for our own safety. Their sense of smell and hearing have also been enhanced, even if they were already superior to our own, as well as their sight.” He paused briefly. “And I’ve applied the Iron Skin modification, which will make them extremely difficult to kill, and increased the strength of their jaws, allowing them to actually bite with some force.”

Now _this_ was a project Saudia liked a lot. “An excellent idea,” she said, scratching the dog under the chin, while he wagged his tail happily. “Is it only successful for German Shepherds?”

“The German Shepherds have been the most reliable successes,” Munju explained, pulling out his tablet and scrolling through. “However, I believe that the Labrador, Husky and Grey Wolf breeds will soon follow. I’ve removed breeds that don’t fit certain criteria, and those are the ones that I’ve deemed worth adapting.”

Saudia wasn’t an expert in dogs, but did recall that those ones were known for their physical attributes and intelligence. She knew wolves weren’t technically _dogs_ , but they were likely close enough that Munju wanted to use them. Perhaps she should get her own. She’d never really had a pet before and the idea of a war dog like this was appealing.

“I see that Dr. Munju is showing off his pets,” Tygan commented, almost with an air of disapproval as he walked into the room. “Chancellor, welcome once again.”

“You as well, Dr. Tygan,” she returned. “And I assume your own research is proceeding well?”

“Quite, Chancellor,” he confirmed, inclining his head. “In fact, I would be happy to show you, even if the recent output is not quite as… _radical_ as that of my colleague.”

Munju actually chuckled. “He’s irritated that I had the idea before he did.”

Tygan sniffed indignantly. “It is more the fact that the amount of resources you expended upon this was higher than if I had been in charge. As an aside, the sight of dead animals is rather draining.”

“Such is the price of science,” Munju shrugged. “But do carry on and show the Chancellor your own contributions.” They both walked out of the kennel and into another lab which seemed to be dedicated to microbiology. She also noted that there were quite a few of the Sectoid cloning vats set up, and there _were_ things growing in them.

But they passed all that and came to a table where there was, of all things, a burger. It sat on a white plate and looked…well, like a burger with a few leaves of lettuce, cheese and ketchup. “Chancellor, if you wouldn’t mind, please sample what I’ve cooked today,” Tygan said, motioning a hand to the plate. “I’m quite curious what you think.”

Of all the people she would expect to play a joke on her, Tygan wasn’t one of them. Still, this seemed very odd. She didn’t really have strong feelings one way or another on burgers, so she decided to indulge him, wondering what the point of this was. After a few bites she did have to admit that it _was_ pretty good, although she wasn’t much of an expert, and it might have simply been a while since she’d had one.

“What do you think?” Tygan asked.

“It’s good,” she said, setting the half-eaten burger on the plate. “I did eat before I got here, but I appreciate the thought.”

“There was a point to this,” Tygan said with a smile. “You would say that it _is_ a good burger?”

Saudia eyed him suspiciously. “Yes? Are you telling me it isn’t?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” Tygan explained, clasping his hands behind his back. “What you just ate, Chancellor, was cloned meat.”

Ah, now she saw the point. “Really,” she noted. “I would never have guessed. It must have been a good cow.”

“Ah, but it’s better,” Tygan clarified. “The only part that we need for human consumption is the meat, so that is what was grown. No cows, cloned or otherwise, were harmed in the making of this burger. To put it simply, Chancellor, ADVENT has the ability to mass produce cheap, safe, humane and delicious meat; and as this can be applied to other foods, it ensures that we will never face a food shortage again in our lifetimes.”

It took a second for the implications of that to reach her. She’d never truly thought about that particular application, but cloning food _was_ something that could, and should, be done. No more famines, food shortages, no more unnecessary hunger. It might take some time for this to be turned into the size it needed to be, but Tygan just might have solved world hunger. It’s usefulness to the war was debatable, but then again, soldiers needed food, and if they didn’t have to worry about those resources, there was no reason they couldn’t have the best ADVENT could provide.

“Exceptionally done,” she complimented. “Every single humanitarian organization will thank you for your work here, not to mention those who have issues affording it.”

“As long as humanity benefits from this, that is all I require,” Tygan gracefully accepted. “But I would not delay this. The more hope that can be given to people, the better.”

“Your project was a very creative application of cloning,” Munju also complimented, tapping a finger on his chin and looking thoughtfully at the vats. “But I believe there are also ways it could be applied for the war effort, Chancellor. How much thought have you given to the idea of Human cloning?”

Saudia stood and thought for a few seconds. Truth be told she _hadn’t_ given it much thought, mostly because she never thought it would be a feasible option. Although they could theoretically do it now, they had the technology. “Is that now a possibility?”

“Certainly,” Munju assured her confidently. “Though not much actual testing or research has been done. But that could certainly change, and from there the possibilities are extensive.” He turned to her, a hand extended to the vats behind him. “Chancellor, eventually we’re going to have a numbers problem. If not now, then in the future. We simply do not have enough soldiers to go to war with an intergalactic army. _However_ , that could be negated by growing more Human soldiers, and we could apply MELD to them during the process, allowing them to be combat-ready the moment they step out of the vats.”

“Doctor, I do believe you are exaggerating the simplicity of such an undertaking,” Tygan warned cautiously. “This is not a slab of meat being grown, but a person. One that is far more complicated and with far more factors than simple vegetables or meat. Not to mention raising the question of simply bringing Humans into this world for the sole purpose of going to war.”

Munju sniffed. “I didn’t say it would be easy, but it would be worth it, and we will need to decide sooner or later. Chancellor, can we really afford to ignore this additional source of soldiers? We unfortunately can’t wait for the next generation of Humans to be born to replace the ones dying every day.”

Saudia wasn’t exactly put off by the ethics of the concept of cloning, but she did believe Munju might be a little overconfident in how easily this could be done. As far as she was concerned, clones wouldn’t have been born naturally anyway, so any kind of life was better than not existing in the first place. And it wasn’t as though, should they actually reach that point, that they would be treated badly.

Still, it would be a touchy subject for some people. But Munju was right, eventually they were going to need more soldiers, and cloning might allow them to even the odds there. That said, she didn’t think this was something she should immediately approve without some outside input. The Commander, Laura, Hassan, people who would have a better grasp on the possible social ramifications than she did.

“Chancellor, I perhaps have a much less controversial usage of cloning,” Tygan said slowly. “Since we do have the capability, I would suggest we utilize this technology to clone replacement limbs or organs; ones which would reduce any chance of rejection to the designated recipient. We could remove the need for organ donation and give millions their lives back.”

“I agree with Tygan here,” Munju said firmly. “Regardless on the status of Human cloning, there is no reason we cannot do this. As well as synthesizing blood, plasma, and other bodily fluids needed for survival. There should be no controversy over this.”

Saudia nodded. There was no question this was an immediately useful application. “Begin your work on that, and concerning Human cloning itself, I want both of you to begin preliminary research into it,” she ordered. “But no growing anything that could be considered a Human fetus. Determine equipment, possible template, but no actual implementation yet. This, at the moment, is _not_ a priority, but I want to know just how feasible it is. Understood?”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Tygan said. “We will begin work on it as soon as possible.”

“Excellent,” Saudia said, stepping back. “Excellent work, both of you. I look forward to seeing your future projects.”

***

_New York, United States of America_

Saudia scratched her chin. “You want to launch it now? Isn’t it too preliminary?”

Jasmine gave a short nod. “Starting sooner rather than later is the best strategy. To give you a timeframe, Chancellor, if you want this to become the dominant currency, it will likely not be fully integrated until the war is over. The sooner we normalize it, the better.”

That did make sense, and since Saudia knew that the denominations were figured out, all that remained was actually releasing the new currency to the public. As it was based and backed by the alien alloys, both thought it prudent that the name of the currency would be the ADVENT Alloy. There had been some debate on if they would continue using paper denominations of money, but ultimately they’d decided to keep it since it was more useful for convenience and people were too used to them.

“I am aware it will take some time,” Saudia said. “So proceed. What will be your plan for deployment?”

“Very, very slowly of course,” Jasmine chuckled. “There are some preliminary legislative measures that need to be taken before we _actually_ launch it. First the Congress will need to officially recognize it as the official currency, and then mandate that all banks and businesses accept the currency legally.”

“They’ve been aware this has been in the works for a while,” Saudia told her. “Your primary contact has been Congressman Caspari, yes? I’m certain he has legislation already prepared.”

“Oh, he does,” Jasmine quickly confirmed, pushing over a folder with what she assumed was the official bill the Swiss Congressman would introduce. “He started drafting it after I approached him. He knows quite a bit about how to best introduce it without any superfluous loopholes. I’ve looked it over with several lawyers and my team, and it’s solid.”

Saudia opened the file and noted that there were four rather large stapled documents, not just one. “Ambitious,” she noted. “How much are you planning to get through Congress?”

“The first bill obviously establishes the Alloy as the official currency,” Jasmine explained. “More of a formality and not very complicated. The others are more important.” She pointed at the second, much thicker, document underneath the first. “That is actually the mandate to ensure that everyone in ADVENT eventually moves to the new system.”

Saudia began reading through it. “Currencies used by the State will be phased out over a five-year period until they exclusively operate under the Alloys. Good. That gives us plenty of time to set it up.”

“That was the quickest it could be done and still be effective,” Jasmine agreed. “And the same goal is for the rest of ADVENT businesses and corporations, although it is over a twenty-year period, with exceptions for those that do business with foreign nations. By then I think that most will be using the Alloy, and this does regulate that new businesses created one year after this has passed must use the Alloy domestically, unless they do business with foreign companies.”

“That is fair,” Saudia nodded, looking up. “Twenty years is more than sufficient for it to be implemented. The larger issue is the people who want to take advantage of the new currency and go and exchange it for Alloys.”

“Scarcity and inflation was a massive problem,” Jasmine sighed, rubbing her forehead. “One that can’t ever fully be solved. We’ve set the price in relation to our current stockpile and how much we actually need if the wealthiest people decided to go all-in on this. It’s incredibly likely that as the war goes on, we’ll acquire more, and should we discover just how the alien alloys are made, we’ll potentially have an unlimited supply.”

She paused for a moment, considering. “The way this is set up, Chancellor, isn’t like most currencies. This is because the alloys are being considered as more of a _resource_ ; we consider it valuable right now because it’s _useful_. It can do something besides look shiny, unlike previous standards like gold. This makes it a little more difficult because hopefully, we will be able to manufacture it, and by current standards of inflation, make it worthless.”

“Or you could establish a minimum value,” Saudia noted. “Something that would only increase in value, but if it dropped, it would still be worth something.”

“That makes the most sense, and what we came to,” Jasmine said. “Although this is theoretical; nothing like this has ever been done before. Ideally, we want to reach a point where money isn’t something that most people have to worry about. But to get there without problems, we’ll have to get _very_ lucky because the market will take advantage however it can.”

Saudia nodded. “The more alloys in circulation, the less each one is worth. And the prices go up and things stay the same.”

“Which is why to have a chance of it working, ADVENT has control over all deposits of alloys, and are the only ones who have authorization to manufacture or create them,” Jasmine finished. “If we have a degree of control over how much is being put into circulation, and any surplus is directly controlled by us, the better chance the Alloy will not fluctuate as much.”

It was an interesting subversion of that issue. “ADVENT uses the alloys in terms of usage cost,” Saudia said, thinking. “If surpluses were kept internal, they wouldn’t be devalued because we always have a use for them. Any extra could be put towards weapons, vehicles, structures, and more. It could potentially be used so that any surplus is quickly used before it can potentially affect markets, and if we _do_ develop the ability to manufacture it, we would only make what was needed for certain projects, and not actually introduce it into the market as actual currency.”

“But as a resource,” Jasmine finished. “Exactly. Except that this still may not ultimately work. Money is interesting, Chancellor. On some level the concept only works because we believe it does. Literally every currency before this is based on nothing, and we only give it worth because we believe it has worth. All we’re really doing is exchanging paper and pieces of metal.”

Saudia did have some understanding of how fragile the whole system actually was, which was why she wanted the new currency actually backed by something. But Jasmine was right; the only way to know for sure if it ended up working was to actually do it. But there was always the chance of failure. “What of the rest of the legislation?” She asked, motioning to the final two stacks of documents.

“One of them is just regulations for the manufacturing of the paper bills and minting coins,” Jasmine explained, reaching into her pocket and tossing her a coin. “Got one to show off to you. That is officially worth one ADVENT Alloy.”

Saudia caught the coin, and flipped it over in her palm. It was the size of a quarter and about as heavy. It was a dark gray, which told her that this was actually made out of an alloy. On one side was the official ADVENT logo, and on the other was a side view of a woman. She raised an eyebrow. “Is this supposed to be me?”

“Officially, no,” Jasmine smiled. “It’s just the head of a woman; identifying features unknown. Unofficially, you were who I had in mind when I decided to add it. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Saudia said, palming the coin and placing it in a pocket. “Although I didn’t ever expect to ever be on any currency; inspired or otherwise.”

“As one of the founding members of ADVENT, it would be idiotic _not_ to have you included in some way,” Jasmine said. “It only seemed right.”

Saudia was somewhat amused by that. Even in EXALT she’d never really planned on doing anything like putting herself on money. If Jasmine had wanted to be accurate, putting the Commander on it would be more accurate, since he was the one who’d started all of this. But he’d also likely be just as satisfied either way. “I won’t complain,” she said. “So what is the last one?”

“A little project I’ve wanted to implement for some time,” Jasmine said with a smile. “As long as we’re redoing the entire economy, I wanted to make it a little safer. That,” she pointed at the final document. “Imposes some additional regulations on how banks store financial data and transactions. It essentially mandates a certain level of security on them, and that they have to improve their standards if their current encryption is not sufficient, or a more effective method is developed. While most are up to standards for now, the goal is to ensure that they are kept to the highest possible standard, and there are too many that won’t do something until a breach happens, and I don’t consider that acceptable.”

“It seems like a good idea,” Saudia said with a nod. “Good work. I look forward to seeing this put into practice.”

“Appreciated, Chancellor,” she said, pulling back the file. “If nothing else, this will be an interesting experiment.”

***

_Intha, Vitakar_

All things considered, the plan was going well. Nartha had played his role well, and helped the Zararch remove some of the lesser dissidents and troublemakers, while misdirecting the ones who were actually who he considered useful. Sometimes he let them know, sometimes he didn’t. But his time on the planet was going to end soon, and he needed to firmly establish plans for moving forward.

The good news was that the Nulorian seemed to want to speak. He’d received a string of coordinates and a time, and nothing else through the communication link he’d established. Fair enough. By now they were probably aware that _someone_ was slowing down the Zararch here, and he was the obvious candidate.

He doubted they would fully trust them, but he didn’t need that right now. All he needed was an ally, and in the meantime, Sareech was proving to be an exceptional ally in figuring out how to use the Aui’Vitakar. At the moment she’d kept much of what he’d shared with her to herself, but was making some small moves, particularly on Vienneth, which had quite curiously been killed the moment it had been introduced.

That had confirmed that there was indeed something there that the Ethereals did _not_ want discovered. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to come away with much on his end, and everything related to that planet was classified. That being said, he _was_ of a high enough rank to view it…provided he had the Zar’Chon’s permission.

He hadn’t come up with a reason to view it that wasn’t suspicious.

He might have to fabricate a reason to visit the planet himself. Perhaps he could say that one of the Nulorian he’d interrogated had mentioned there was a base there. Although he’d likely need proof for it to be credible, because the Zar’Chon was likely not going to just let him go if he was trying to keep something quiet.

However, he was following the actual reports from the war itself and things were not looking good for Earth. Japan had fallen and America was also slowly being conquered, and to make matters worse, it seemed ADVENT was taking advantage and capturing previously neutral countries. While he couldn’t exactly blame them, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with what was happening.

Then there was the new Ethereal, Caelior, who made the Battlemaster look weak by comparison. The Nulorian were going to either find that very useful, or very terrifying. Likely both. It didn’t bode well at all for their chances going forward, but there wasn’t much of a choice. They still had a chance, however slim.

Nartha finished his report to the Zar’Chon, with an addendum that he’d be investigating further in the Borelian Expanse, which would provide adequate cover to meet with the Nulorian, and buy him a few days. He sincerely hoped that they wouldn’t kill him if they decided he wasn’t trustworthy enough.

They were terrorists, after all.

***

_Russia, Center of ADVENT Engineering and Development_

Saudia was very interested to see what Feng and Ophelia had come up with since the last time she’d visited. Given that they apparently had some new developments to share, she was hoping to be as impressed as last time. Hopefully they wouldn’t disappoint.

She stepped into the main wing of the Robotics Division, where Feng had wanted to show her something relating to the MDU project. At least she assumed it was related, but she wasn’t quite sure just how much more the MDUs could be improved. Which meant this was likely a new project utilizing similar concepts.

The room was fairly loud, and there were quite a few engineers working and testing various systems, or were welding or constructing additional units. But she did see Feng and Ophelia at the far end, and made her way towards them. Feng gave her a nod of greeting as she approached. “Chancellor, thank you for coming.”

“You said you had made progress,” she answered. “I’m curious what you’ve done.”

“Of course,” he smiled proudly. “Outside of my work on the Flak Towers and Trench designs Commander Christiaens asked me to complete, we had made progress in multiple projects. The latest of which is before you.”

He gestured before him to the machine before them. It reached to about her waist, and to her eyes, looked like a massive machine gun barrel attached to a platform with treads in place of wheels. It was appropriately armored, and the barrel was on some kind of swivel, and it appeared rather intimidating. “What is this?” She asked. “A portable turret?”

“Not exactly,” Ophelia answered, stepping forward. “The MDU fulfills its role exceptionally well. But it’s expensive and has limited mobility in enclosed areas. We wanted to create a similarly robotic enemy to fill that role; one that is much cheaper and can be easily mobile in enclosed areas. This is the result, the Super Heavy Infantry Vehicle, internally known as the SHIV.”

Saudia cocked her head at the machine. “No lasers?”

“The processor isn’t as large or advanced as the ones in the MDU,” Ophelia explained. “But the AI is still sophisticated enough to be extremely dangerous, even at longer ranges. The role isn’t as a precise weapon like the MDU, but it would perform more defensive tasks which would be dangerous to our own soldiers. A team of SHIVs could effectively suppress an alien force which would allow our soldiers to reposition, advance, or retreat with far less danger.”

“Good,” Saudia nodded. “And these are gauss weapons I presume?”

“Correct,” Feng stated, also stepping forward. “And we have designed the SHIVs with the intention of being adaptable to specific terrains or scenarios,” He knelt down by the SHIV. “We have this one using treads, which is more appropriate for more rough terrain that would be found in trenches or a typical battlefield. However, these can be easily swapped out for traditional wheels for locomotion.”

“In addition to that, there are multiple modes the SHIV can be put into,” Ophelia said, holding a tablet into her hand and motioning Saudia over. “Mobile and Entrenched. Putting it into the ‘Entrenched’ mode does this.” She pressed several buttons, there was an audible locking sound, and four smaller legs extended from the sides, then were planted on the floor. “All SHIVs have 360 mobility in both positons,” Ophelia continued. “However in this position, firepower will be more stable and accurate since more power can be devoted to targeting.”

“Can I see that?” Saudia asked, and Ophelia gave her the tablet controlling the SHIV. There were quite a few additional sensors on it, and the main image was of the SHIV facing them, all of them showing up as red blimps, which she assumed was from heat sensors.

“How is the power consumption?” She asked.

“Twelve hours without any kind of recharge,” Feng answered, walking back towards her. “Batteries for it take approximately one hour to recharge, and can be replaced easily. We attempted to have a system of continuous battery replacement, but there simply wasn’t room to accommodate it.”

“That should be sufficient,” Saudia nodded, already rather happy with the machine. “Well done. These are ready for deployment?”

“Yes, at your command,” Feng confirmed.

“Put them into production,” Saudia ordered. “And be sure to designate some for the Peacekeepers. They could use a machine like this.”

“Excellent,” Feng said, and began walking to what he wanted to show her next, which was out of the Robotics Wing. “We’ve been puzzling out how best to improve the Shieldbearer Armor,” he continued as they walked in the hallway. “The initial concept is sound, but putting it into practice is difficult. We are not yet able to develop reliable kinetic shielding, and the magnetic repellent was only effective against traditional ballistics.”

“Have you solved this problem then?” Saudia asked as they rounded a corner.

“To an extent,” Feng admitted. “The issue is that we still have not developed proper plasma weapons, and are relying largely on simulations from data gathered in the field. XCOM has been instrumental in helping us in this project, since they do have one plasma weapon to test with.”

“To put it bluntly,” Ophelia said. “We think we have a way to protect against plasma fire.”

Saudia blinked. “As in stop it entirely?”

“In theory, yes,” Feng clarified. “In practice, it would at minimum reduce the overall danger of the plasma burst itself.” He motioned them into another room which actually looked like a room for testing weapons, and in the range was a suited Shieldbearer. The armor was slightly bulkier than the previous iteration, and there was some built-in pack attached to the armor.

“There had been research into plasma before the war,” Ophelia said as they stood in front of the Shieldbearer. “While the alien application is far more advanced, the principles remain the same, and thus, it has many of the same vulnerabilities. Plasma, Chancellor, is highly influenced by magnetism as it is an ionized gas. Without boring you with the physics, the best defense is the utilization of powerful magnetic fields.”

“Can that really be powerful enough to repel plasma?” Saudia asked skeptically.

“Yes,” Feng nodded. “A strong enough magnetic field should, in theory, completely deter plasma, or at the very minimum negate its overall damage. And _that_ is what the new Shieldbearer accomplishes.” He motioned to the Shieldbearer who pressed a button on his armor and a short antenna shot up from the back of his armor. A few seconds later he was surrounded by a visible field that distorted the image of him.

“I would fire some plasma weapons to prove this works,” Feng sighed. “Unfortunately, we are only capable of producing small and weak bursts, which while helpful, I’m hesitant to class as appropriate field tests. However, XCOM has confirmed that it does perform as intended, and I doubt they would lie.”

“The aliens rely on plasma weaponry,” Saudia said slowly. “This could change the entire war. Their weaponry would be useless.”

“Don’t get too excited yet,” Ophelia grunted, although she seemed rather pleased. “One, this hasn’t been field-tested. And two, the power drain from this is _extreme_. The longest it has lasted is ten minutes, more or less, before it quit altogether, and we don’t know how it would stand against sustained plasma fire. The energy issue is the biggest hurdle, and that can hopefully be resolved when we figure out elerium.”

“Still,” Saudia said in amazement. “That can be worked around. We can supply the power right now. I assume you’ve made non-Shieldbearer emplacements which perform the same function?”

“Of course,” Feng said. “But they have a fairly small range, and take some time to set up. But those could be protected and they don’t require exotic resources to be created. And I have taken the liberty of ordering several thousand already to be sent to America and Korea. I assumed you would want more, but that will require your authorization.”

Saudia snorted. “I should sign an order not to need my approval for certain tasks. Like providing equipment that negates _plasma_ weapons.”

“Now, there is one final thing,” Feng said, turning on his heel and walking out. “You recall the last time I was designing a fast-response troop transport. The good news is that I was able to construct the proof-of-concept without much issue.”

More excellent news. “You solved the propulsion systems?” She asked. “I believe you said that was an issue.”

“Yes, though it wasn’t as difficult as I had feared,” Feng explained as they reached a massive hangar. “Now that we have enough intact UFOs, it was a matter of reverse-engineering the systems and applying them elsewhere. The larger problem was finding a power source to temporarily substitute in place of elerium.”

“Did you?” She asked.

“Yes, but as I said, this is only to show that it works,” he clarified. “Alien propulsion systems are simply impossible to use practically without elerium, but when we do solve it, we will be able to deploy these dropships immediately.” He pointed to a fully constructed ADVENT dropship, in all it’s uniquely designed glory.

It still seemed an odd design to her, but she assumed it was more due to incorporating the anti-grav mechanisms than anything else. The four ‘legs’ of the craft were likely the main means of propulsion, and probably a few stabilizing mechanisms were on the underside of the craft itself. It was still pretty small, but she could see it being useful for quick deployments or reinforcing certain areas.

“Start it up!” Feng called, and the room was suddenly filled with a low hum from the dropship and after a few seconds, it started rising, the air underneath the legs being completely distorted and tinted red from the anti-grav effects. There were similar effects under the main body of the craft itself, and after the legs shifted to a horizontal position, it shot forward and flew around the expansive hangar.

Saudia was impressed how quickly it could speed up and slow to a complete halt within seconds, and after a few more minutes of demonstrations, it shifted back into a landed position. As it settled on the ground, Saudia nodded approvingly. “For a proof of concept, I would say it passed. But it drains too much power to be deployed?”

“Unfortunately,” Feng confirmed. “It can last nearly a half hour, but none beyond that. Clearly not feasible for actual usage, but it will be ready once elerium has been fully researched and ready to be used.

“I’ll have Munju and Tygan bump that up on their priority list,” Saudia promised. “Another job well done.”

“I would like to see the alien’s faces when they realize plasma doesn’t work _quite_ as well,” Ophelia said with a grim smile. “ _That_ would be entertaining.”

***

_Switzerland, Construction Fields_

Saudia had never really appreciated just how secure Switzerland truly was before arriving. Once she’d realized that the country was an interlinked fortress, it hadn’t been a hard call to decide that it was going to be the official capital of ADVENT, although pretty much everyone she’d appointed in a military position had suggested the same thing.

It was also the place where Commander Christiaens had decided to test out potential tactics, structures, and equipment before deciding to actually deploy or utilize them. She’d essentially turned much of the country into a mixture of a testing ground and training area. And there was quite a bit to see here.

Right now both of them were walking through a small trench fortification, which gave her a much better idea of what Laura had said when she’d explained that she wanted to bring trench warfare back as an actual tactic. Saudia had been surprised to say the least, but Laura had said the concept was sound, and it would give them a much better chance to defend cities than only relying on barricades.

“The aliens are _bad_ at open warfare,” Laura had said. “They don’t have any useful strategies aside from charging an open field and praying they live to find cover. _Then_ they become dangerous. Several lines of trenches in front of any city will turn any charge into a massacre.”

She’d seen an obvious flaw then. “And what happens when there isn’t an open space in front of the city?”

“Then we clear out the area and make one,” she answered evenly. “Our strategies aren’t good enough right now, Chancellor, we need to adapt and pull out every trick we can.”

The stories of trench warfare were horrific, and despite their use, Saudia wasn’t keen on putting soldiers through that, but it had admittedly been at a time when conditions were much worse and technology nowhere what it was today. Laura had said that there were obvious places for improvement, and she appeared to have followed through on that.

To start with, the actual digging of the trench wasn’t done with crude shovels or by hand anymore. Laura had said it still could be, but with access to modern construction equipment, there wasn’t a need. The exact depth of the trench was seven feet, without counting the steel barricades placed along the edge of the trench facing outward, with the ground slanted upward for soldiers to move up to shoot out of. Along the short barricade were openings for soldiers to shoot through, while lessening the chance of getting hit in return. The width was seven feet, and on the ground there were ridged steel slabs perfectly cut to fit into the trench that could be cleaned, which made the trench ultimately more sanitary and safe.

Every ten feet there were what Laura described as ‘Emplacements’, which is to say, small armored bunkers that had an M2 Browning deployed within. It was just high enough where the barrel reached a few inches off the ground, but there was enough room in the bunker to aim it in multiple directions. While obvious targets, they did give some more stationary firepower to the defensive line.

“There are designated ammo and medical stockpiles every twenty-five feet,” Laura explained as they continued walking. “Nothing fancy, just cut-out sections of the trench, but they are always available and can be resupplied from trench lines further back.” Unlike most of the trench she was in, this one had an armored cover tall enough that she could almost stand up in it. There was some basic lighting, stacks of ammo boxes, and med-kits.

That was another improvement Laura had ordered. There was intermittent lighting throughout the trenches, that would be directly connected to the city. It ran along the ground level of the trench, and the floor was also lit well.

“This is something that can be added should the aliens begin to use shelling or gas weaponry,” Laura said as they came to a new section. It was identical in function to where they’d been previously, but instead of the short barricade in front that allowed soldiers to shoot out of it, a metal ceiling extended over the entire trench and rested on the other side. It wasn’t fancy and more like fitting a particular piece together than something sturdy, but it provided more protection than open air. “The basic design of the trench allows armoring if needed,” Laura continued. “It will get stifling and uncomfortable, which is the downside, but it’s easy to set up and take down, and will protect against bombardments to a degree.”

“You could integrate a point-laser system to shoot down incoming munitions,” Saudia noted. “That could also negate the problem.”

“Agreed, but that’s not something that could be built easily,” Laura amended. “For the larger cities, absolutely. But for smaller ones it’s not justified in terms of resource cost.”

“Fair,” Saudia nodded as they finished walking through the armored trench, and exited above ground where both of them overlooked the long trench. “I’m impressed. You made significant improvements to the design here.”

“It needed to happen,” Laura said slowly. “I wouldn’t think of reviving them if there weren’t improvements to be made. The aliens themselves don’t have many good counters to this. They seem to lack any sort of heavy vehicles outside of the Sectopod, and that moves slowly enough where we can destroy it before it does much damage.” She stretched her hand out, illustrating the trench line. “At the very back we can place our conventional tanks and artillery to fire at the aliens. Their systems are good, but even they have to have limits. We’ve also not seen their aircraft have any kind of bombers, which negates that threat.”

The more Saudia thought about it, the more there seemed to be some holes in the alien military. They appeared to be largely infantry-based, which while varied, were also much easier to kill. They didn’t have many military vehicles, outside of the Sectopod and Cyberdisk, the latter of which didn’t seem to fill the role of a conventional tank.

They did appear to have some aquatic capabilities, strangely enough, but they didn’t seem to have any artillery whatsoever. Then there were the odd gaps in the air force. There were no bombers as Laura had noted, and no indication there was anything larger than a transport that was used regularly. They clearly had the capability to create larger ships, as the alien Dreadnought had shown, but ever since then there hadn’t been anything close to that size. She suspected it was because they had gotten used to a different form of warfare, or maybe believed psionics could substitute for anything.

But it all seemed very…conventional. She didn’t know a better way to describe it. Which made her wonder just how much of the alien technology was being hidden from them. Surely they had to have more than billions of soldiers?

Right?

She did sincerely hope she was wrong, but another part of her would be sorely disappointed if the aliens _did_ turn out to be that unimaginative. “And all of this will be covered by the Flak Towers,” Laura continued. “Those will definitely take the most fire, but I’ve been sure to have them be as structurally sound as possible.”

“I would incorporate Feng and Ophelia’s plasma dissipaters into them,” Saudia suggested as they walked to the massive tower. “That would negate almost all of the damage at this point.”

“For future iterations,” Laura agreed. “But for now these will hold up well. This way, Chancellor.” Saudia followed her into the first floor of the eight-story tower. The sheer amount of firepower on display was something Saudia found very satisfying. In front of every opening was an M2 Browning or a stationary weapon of similar power. Ammo boxes were stockpiled in quartered sections throughout the entire open floor. In the center was the spiral staircase leading up. And in the middle of the staircase was a fireman’s pole which extended from the top, a contingency in case the stairs were destroyed or otherwise blocked.

“Did you think about the proposal Munju had?” Saudia asked as they climbed.

“Cloning?” Laura said, somewhat distastefully. “Yes, somewhat. I can’t deny that it would be useful if they can make it work. But…I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea of growing Humans just to send them to fight in a war. The concept itself is personally unsettling to me, so I’m not sure I’m the one best to answer the question. If you decide to approve it, I’ll use them to the best of my ability.”

“And that’s all you should need to do,” Saudia nodded. “But that is something that does have to be decided sooner than later. If you have objections, I’d want to know now.”

“That depends on your plan for them,” Laura said slowly, stopping and looking back at Saudia. “Would they have a place in ADVENT besides being soldiers?”

“To a degree,” Saudia said. “Those aspects haven’t been fully discussed. This is more about the concept itself.”

“Well, that ties into how I feel about it,” Laura pointed out. “I suppose my question is if they would be treated as Humans or not?”

“That is the goal,” Saudia shrugged. “Does that answer your question?”

Laura looked at her for a few moments. “For now, Chancellor. I need to think about it some more. Besides, there is still more to show you.” They reached what Saudia believed was the fourth floor, which was almost identical to the first floor, except that there were several AA weapons instead of stationary machine guns.

“Each floor can be locked down in case the lower ones are under attack.” Laura said, pointing to a lever on the floor near where the staircase had arrived. She pulled it, and the metal sheets built into the floor slid out, completely covering the entrance. “Useful,” Saudia nodded as Laura retracted the covering. “Continue.”

They proceeded further up, and the higher they went, the more weapons were specifically anti-air, and there were now a decent number of precision laser weapons in addition to gauss defenses. They finally arrived at the top, where almost every single available space had a massive AA turret, and on each of the corners was a heavy precision laser to further augment the death trap that was the Flak Tower.

“I’d hate to be the first UFO that tries to run this,” Saudia said approvingly, clasping her hands behind her back as she overlooked the landscape. “I believe we just might be ready for when the aliens attack next. No more easy victories for them.”

“We just have to make sure they don’t get control of these towers,” Laura noted ruefully. “I don’t fancy our chances if we end up on the wrong side of these guns.”

“I assume you have a plan for if we do have to retreat from them?” Saudia asked.

“A crude one, but it should do the job if needed,” Laura explained. “There are several contingency explosives on the first, forth, and seventh levels that can be deployed if we’re going to lose the towers, which can be detonated remotely after setting them up. There isn’t much of a chance of the explosives going off accidentally since they aren’t primed, and it’s better than having an integrated self-destruct system the aliens might accidentally exploit.”

“Good planning,” Saudia nodded approvingly. “Better to have contingencies in place. I don’t consider it likely that we will never lose a Tower.”

“Still,” Laura said, looking away. “I’d prefer to avoid that contingency.”

Saudia smiled grimly. “Well, we’ll have to be sure not to lose them then.”

***

_Undisclosed Location, United States of America_

Saudia had wondered what it was like to be a psion. The idea itself was alien to her, and the few discussions she’d had with psions had been…limited. Well, those had been limited to Patricia and the Commander, both of whom had generally been focused on other topics. Still, the power to dominate the minds of others was one she wouldn’t mind.

Out of curiosity, she’d wondered if she could be psionically awakened as well, and the standardized test to determine sensitivity had come back negative. A shame, but perhaps it was for the best. She’d prefer not to go around with a bomb in her head, or have any kind of mental conditioning, both of which she knew the Commander would require, especially for her.

But the ADVENT Psionic Research, Investigation, Enhancement, Specialization and Training Program, shortened to PRIEST, could very well be the most important weapon in this war against the aliens. The Ethereals might not have put much effort into developing conventional warfare, but with psions as powerful as they had, they didn’t necessarily _need_ to.

The research XCOM had shared with them seemed to indicate that Humans weren’t as psionically capable as Ethereals, but equal with or surpassing most Sectoids. Psions on the level of Patricia or the Furies appeared to be rare, but even the weaker ones were more than capable of destroying conventional alien forces. It was ironic that in her quest to give EXALT psions, they had ended up giving XCOM one of their greatest weapons in the Furies.

At least something good had come out of that program. A shame Subject Four…Durand, was it? Well, it was a shame she’d died. Her power had been extraordinary.

“Chancellor?” Saudia turned away from the psionic pod she’d been looking at to see the Director of the PRIEST Program, Dr. Akilah Kettani, one of the leading neuroscientists in the world. As there weren’t any experts outside of XCOM in the field of psionics, she’d had to make do. If there was anyone who could puzzle out how best to figure out the phenomenon, it would be an expert on the brain itself.

“Dr. Kettani,” she greeted. “It looks like you have everything up and running.”

“Quite, Chancellor,” he agreed with a smile. “The next step is finding appropriate candidates for awakening. I know that the military is currently cycling through their forces, but I believe we should also begin expanding to civilian populations immediately.”

“You’ve mentioned this,” Saudia said as they began to walk down the corridor. “I’m not convinced that it would be a good idea to pair civilians with soldiers quite yet; unless of course the number of psions we acquire is too small to be useful.”

“You have the final say, but I would advise against that,” Kettani said, his ice-blue eyes looking pointedly at her. “If my calculations are correct, there is a sizable portion of the Human population that is psionically sensitive, and the majority of Humans are not currently serving. Psions are not soldiers and shouldn’t be treated exactly like them; civilians can learn, and they can be useful.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “When you say a sizable portion, what does that translate to?”

Kettani heisted, glancing up for a few seconds. “Right now I am only going by the number of psions that have been in XCOM, but I will not know for sure without a far larger sample size. However, given that XCOM has had a minimum of one hundred soldiers, and at least ten of those have been psions, that implies that five to fifteen percent of the Human population is at least capable of minimal psionic manipulation.

Saudia immediately tried to run some numbers in her head. There were about seven and a half billion people on the planet, just five percent of that would be… “Three hundred and eighty million, minimum,” Kettani said, anticipating her calculations. “Greater percentiles are over one billion. If even a fraction of those are awakened, it might be enough to overwhelm an Ethereal.”

Saudia nodded numbly. She’d believed that there would be only a few who could be awakened, maybe thousands at most. But if Kettani _was_ correct, that would do more than give them a fighting chance, it _might_ even turn the war in their favor. “That being said, this is still unknown,” Kettani cautioned as they entered another brightly lit room. “But I’m confident that there are more than enough potential psions to be awakened.”

“You have my authorization to proceed with recruitment,” Saudia said firmly. “And of course be sure that if there _are_ civilians who join…that they understand the conditions and risks. I don’t want unwilling psions in my army.”

“Of course,” Kettani nodded as he guided her over to a table with a curious device resting on it. It looked like one end was a handle, which was connected to a block of equal width, possibly a power source, and two prongs extended upwards, angling towards each other but not meeting.

“Is this a weapon?” She asked, picking up the strange device. It definitely looked alien in origin, and not something she was even aware was being developed.

“Not exactly,” Kettani said, frowning as he looked at the weapon, reaching over and hitting a switch. Saudia almost jumped as a small ball of purple energy converged in the center of the two prongs. It _had_ to be psionic in origin, but she didn’t know how that was possible.

“This was something XCOM gave to us,” Kettani explained. “They referred to it as a ‘Training Amp’ for newer psions, or those of lesser power. This is technically a misnomer though, as for one, from what I understand, it acts more as a focus than an actual amplification of power, and second, that isn’t actually psionic energy.”

Saudia glanced at him. “Then what is it?”

Kettani furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. XCOM didn’t explain, and even though they provided the full schematics…no one I’ve shown it to has been able to comprehend _how_ this thing actually works. We can assemble it, and the power source comes from an elerium crystal specially treated with psionics…but how this actually produces the result, I haven’t been able to puzzle out.”

Saudia looked back at the device, which glowed brightly. “XCOM must have been able to figure it out.”

Kettani looked down at the amp as she turned it off. “I’m not so sure. But it’s irrelevant. They appear to work and will supposedly help with training.”

“And speaking of which,” Saudia said, taking the opportunity to change the subject. “How is that going to be handled?”

“In the beginning XCOM has promised to assist with the first generation of psions,” Kettani explained as they walked over to a window which overlooked a white room the size of a gym, which she assumed would be used for training. “I believe they want to maintain a presence here permanently, if for no other reason than they get their pick of psions.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “That I am not surprised at.” It had been another condition the Commander had added to approving the PRIEST Program, XCOM had the authority to select certain psions for XCOM and they had to turn them over. It was clearly a means of ensuring that ADVENT _didn’t_ have the most powerful psions, but she didn’t consider it worth challenging. The Commander had promised not to abuse that agreement too much, but Saudia wasn’t holding her breath.

“XCOM identified four major disciplines of psionic power,” Kettani continued. “Offensive, Defensive, Telekinesis, and Telepathy. The XCOM Psion Trask has said that it’s possible for a psion to master multiple disciplines, but that is exceedingly difficult and rare, and each one will naturally gravitate towards the one they are most inclined towards. Training regimes will be built around these disciplines, and more can be developed for hybrid specializations in the future.”

“That takes care of that,” Saudia said, resting her chin on her hand as she thought. “The larger question is determining how powerful each psion is. Not all are equal, and there needs to be a way of determining weaker psions from stronger ones.”

“No worries there, Chancellor,” Kettani assured her, placing a tablet in her hand. “That has already been solved. The good news is that psionic _potential_ is static, cannot be changed, and is easily determined. Measuring it was a rather exciting development as we needed to create the unit of measurement ourselves, as there is no baseline of power that is equivalent. As Patricia Trask was the first known Human psion, the unit of measurement we created is designated the _Trask_.”

 _Trask_. That was not going to be a context that Saudia was going to get used to quickly, but it did make sense that the unit designating psionic power would be named after her. Seeing as how many units of measurement were named after people in the sciences, it seemed only fair. “I wonder if she approves,” Saudia wondered aloud. “I somehow doubt it was her idea.”

“She seemed rather indifferent,” Kettani shrugged. “But she did consider it an honor. Unless you want the scientifically complex version as to how much a Trask is worth, I can simply explain the system itself.”

“I would prefer that,” Saudia said.

“It’s actually simple,” Kettani said, motioning to her tablet where there were a list of ranks and names. “The Trask Scale goes from one to one hundred, although it could be expanded, but the chances of a psion exceeding one hundred Trasks is nearly impossible. One is very weak, one hundred is exceptionally strong. A simple format.”

He nodded towards the list she was reading. “There are five ranks of psionic power; a psion who is in the range of one to twenty Trasks is Awakened; twenty-one to forty is an Adept; forty-one to sixty is a Psion proper; sixty-one to eighty is a Magus; and eighty-one to one hundred is a Leviathan.”

“And the ranks are permanent?” Saudia said, looking up to clarify. 

“Yes,” Kettani confirmed. “The Trask level of a psion cannot be changed. An Adept will always be an Adept. Psionic sensitivity is genetic, or at least all current research indicates that it is, and there is no research right now into genetic modification to increase psionic sensitivity, although that is certainly possible.”

That was very useful, and would make it much easier to decide how best to use psions in combat. “I’m curious,” Saudia said. “Did Patricia score well?”

“She is an eighty-four on the Trask Scale,” Kettani said with a smile. “The chances of another psion with her raw power is slim, but possible. I suspect only an Ethereal would outclass a Leviathan-Rank psion.”

Saudia was wondering what an Offensive Leviathan would look like, or even a Telekinetic Leviathan. Probably something like Caelior. For that matter, she wondered where he would place on this chart.

Likely exceed it. If there was one thing the Ethereals specialized in, it was psionic enhancement. “Excellent work,” she said. “How long before we can expect psionic soldiers?”

“Several months, minimum,” Kettani said flatly, running a hand through his short hair. “We first have to find suitable candidates, awaken them, and then train them so they aren’t completely useless. But after the initial start-up period, we should fall into a pattern where batches can be deployed regularly. I will also add that the more facilities for training, the faster it will go, and the larger the batches.”

“Send over what you believe would be ideal,” Saudia ordered. “I’ll be sure you get what you need. The outcome of the war could rest on this; and I will not throw this opportunity away.”

“Then I will begin recruitment,” he said, turning to look out into the empty training area. “No time to waste.”

***

_New York, Peacekeeper Command_

Saudia wouldn’t have expected that the visit to Stein’s headquarters would be the most relaxing part of her trip, but it was. Stein had simply suggested that they have lunch and go over whatever they needed to discuss, and had added in a deadpan voice “You’re probably tired of people walking around and showing you stuff.” Which wasn’t _technically_ true, but it had been an exhausting week, even by her standards.

“Cloning,” Stein commented thoughtfully as Saudia finished explaining the newest developments in the realms of science. “Interesting. People are squeamish about the subject for some reason.”

“And I suppose you’re not,” Saudia commented ruefully as she ate her salad. “I’m somehow not surprised.”

“There isn’t a reason to be,” Stein said neutrally. “The concept is good. It will allow us a disposable army while we can save our actual soldiers for missions of actual importance.”

Saudia frowned. “Considering that they will likely take several years at minimum to grow, I’m not in favor of throwing them away. This would not be a small investment.”

Stein snorted. “Bad phrasing, what I should have said was that will allow us to use them for riskier or dangerous assignments; ones that we’d be hesitant to sacrifice actual Humans for.”

Hm. Saudia wasn’t exactly pleased Stein had immediately gone the whole ‘clone equals not human’ route. “If we do this, the clones will likely be just as functional as us. There isn’t much of a point in growing more Humans only to discard them as lesser beings,” she said. “Otherwise we might as well just build drones.”

Stein took a sip of water, looking at her for a few long seconds. “Interesting. I wouldn’t have expected you to be sentimental about the topic. You would equate a natural-born human with one grown in a tank?”

“If there wasn’t a difference, then yes,” Saudia said. “I don’t see a reason not to.”

“Aside from the fact that one was born as the result of a mother and father, and another was grown like a plant?” Stein countered. “The differences may be hidden, but arguing that clones are the same as actual people is not correct in the slightest. And really Saudia, what is the point of growing an entire army if not to save Human lives? Because when it comes down to it, if given the choice between saving a Human and saving a clone, we save the Human every time. That is what I, and most other people would do. Good on you for giving them consideration, but we both know a clone army would ultimately be a means to an end.”

“Obviously,” Saudia said. “However, that doesn’t mean we have to be frivolous about it.”

“Of course not,” Stein nodded. “Another resource to be managed correctly. However, I’m more interested in where the PRIEST Program is going. In fact, I have a request.”

Saudia waited. “Go on.”

“I want some psions of my own,” Stein said, resting her arms on the table. “And I want to install them as justices. After we develop a stronger means of conditioning beyond a bomb in their head, of course.”

“Judges, you mean?” Saudia asked. “You want psions as judges?”

“Both are interchangeable, you understand the request,” Stein sighed exasperatedly. “I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit. We’re ultimately relying on the same standards of trial and judgement as we always have, and that works very well for some cases. Much of my work removing these troublesome dissidents is a simple matter of recovering evidence from their phones or internet posts, and passing judgement.”

She took a breath. “But it’s not perfect. Forensic evidence has its own set of problems, even if it is useful, and there are far too many cases everyday where it’s a matter of one person’s word against another, and then throwing the biases of a judge or jury into it.”

“We don’t have juries anymore,” Saudia reminded her.

“The point is that there are too many instances where criminals walk free because there isn’t enough evidence,” Stein said. “Or worse, are wrongly convicted. The PRIEST Program can get rid of the uncertainty once and for all. No more unanswered questions. No more wrongful convictions. No more criminals walking free. Only clear and undisputed _justice_.”

She took another long sip of water, then refocused on Saudia, her eyes intense. “I am personally quite sick of people deriding my work just because I do my fucking job. ‘I’m too harsh on protesters,’ ‘I’m a violent sadist who gets off on shooting people,’ ‘I’m only your loyal attack dog getting rid of your enemies,’ I can deal with all that idiotic crap, but what I _hate_ is when people say I’m deliberately throwing innocent people in jail, or doing it for no reason at all.”

Her hand around her glass was clenched so tight Saudia wondered if she’d break it. “I want to silence those insults once and for all,” she growled. “Let the psions judge the accused, and there will be no disputing what is true or false. Kyong was right when we spoke; I need to do more to change the minds of people. I have enemies who will never change, but I should do what I can to ensure that people who _are_ watching know all I’m doing is my job. If there are people who have been wrongly convicted, I want them freed, and then I want to go after the people who’ve eluded justice for decades. This time they won’t escape it.”

Saudia was silent for a few moments. “If there were some way to ensure the psion couldn’t lie, then I agree with this. But not before that.”

“Understandable,” Stein nodded. “That’s all I wanted to hear. But if the numbers you were giving on the PRIEST Program are anything close to what you were describing…not developing any kind of Manchurian Program or similar conditioning will backfire. We both know how powerful they could be, and we should risk it on this scale.”

“I agree,” Saudia said. “But for now we have to take every advantage we got.”

“Well, the future doesn’t look quite as grim,” Stein commented. “The question is what the aliens have been doing in the meantime.”

“Hopefully nothing important,” Saudia said. “But I somehow don’t think we’re going to be that lucky.”

Stein’s lips were set in a faint grin. “There isn’t luck in war, Chancellor, there is only intelligence and strategy. And I think in that respect, we can match them.”

“I suppose we’ll find out soon,” Saudia said, looking out to where Peacekeepers were patrolling. “It is only a matter of time before the storm breaks again.”


	20. Against the Titans

_Nigeria_

The long line of ADVENT vehicles and soldiers made for what Betos would call an intimidating sight. She was certain there were people who thought that they were being invaded by some hostile military, which was why she’d mostly plotted their path mostly along less-traveled routes. Although they were now getting close to the capital, so she’d had the majority of her soldiers set up a camp near Sarkin Pawa, which was one of the more desolate places in Nigeria.

It wouldn’t be permanent, but it would suffice long enough for her to have a proper talk with the President of Nigeria. She didn’t think it would look that good for her to march into their capital with an entire army behind her.

So she was instead just taking a few of her officers, Mox included, in full armor, since she wasn’t going to be stupid about this.

Mox had assured her that she would be safe, but she didn’t see a reason to take chances. She did believe Mox, but the President was only one person, and she could imagine that there might be some of his advisors who wouldn’t be thrilled with her showing up. Not that she could particularly _blame_ them in this case, since she’d be suspicious too if a small army showed up with the so-called intention to help.

“How do you even know him?” Betos asked Mox as they drove to Abuja. “I never asked that.”

All of them had their helmets off, since it was far more comfortable without them on in the heat and humidity. Mox shrugged, his face not giving away what he was thinking. “Mutual acquaintance, he introduced us a while ago and we’ve kept in contact since. Nothing frequent mind you, and I wouldn’t call us ‘good friends’, but I know enough about him to say I trust him.”

“This acquaintance the same Mossad agent you joked about knowing?” Betos asked, amused. She’d always assumed he’d made that up, and it had been something of an inside joke between them for years, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he _did_ have someone like that he was friends with. Mox was very easy to talk to.

“What? No,” he chuckled. “He was from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, nice guy, don’t know where he is now. I think he was transferred to a more sensitive position. But he knew quite a few important people.”

“And so…what?” Betos asked, looking out the window at the dry land. “You just write the President when you feel like it?”

“To some extent,” Mox explained. “But there _was_ a reason I was usually chosen as an escort whenever Israel sent someone down to Nigeria. They knew I was a friend and thought that would improve relations. They asked me to keep that quiet, which is why I never told you.”

“Fair,” Betos shrugged. “Hopefully he’s…reasonable about this.”

“Oh, he’ll be perfectly happy to accept your help,” Mox said, then paused. “Although when he hears about your larger plan, this might not be as easy as we thought.”

“It never is,” Betos sighed. “I’m more concerned he’ll want to use whatever we provide him to strengthen his own position, or worse, turn it against his neighbors.”

“He won’t support that,” Mox disputed. “His cabinet? Different story. A problem that I didn’t properly consider is that some of these countries…well, they aren’t exactly friends. In fact, some of them hate each other.”

“We don’t need the people to accept each other right away,” Betos said. “But if the governments work together, then the rest of the details can be worked out. Even if they don’t like each other, it shouldn’t be difficult to show them that ADVENT is a much more present threat. Besides,” she tapped the pistol at her waist. “If that won’t get them to at least listen to us, then what we can offer them will.”

“That it will,” Mox nodded. “I wonder if ADVENT has already covered up what we did.”

Betos looked back out the window while she answered. “The few times we’ve got internet access, I didn’t see anything major. Very likely they’re keeping this quiet.”

“Typical,” Mox snorted.

“We expected as much,” Betos said. “Should we become more established, we can work on making ourselves impossible to ignore. The greater concern is ADVENT taking preemptive action. They won’t take long to figure out where we are.”

“They have to go down half the continent,” Mox pointed out as they turned onto another street. “No way are they getting that far without either the nations being aware, or fighting back. And I don’t think they want to perform _another_ hostile military attack so soon after Canada.”

Betos shook her head. “I’m not worried about that. They aren’t idiots. If they’re smart, they’ll be using XCOM Intelligence to keep an eye on us. I think we’re too large to _all_ suddenly turn up dead, but I wouldn’t put it past them to assassinate you or me. Or anyone important who associates with us.”

“Mhmm, true,” Mox grunted. “We need to set up your own protection service. It’s not like we’re going back alive, so assassination is a valid concern.”

“Or we need to establish a clear plan and chain of command if I die,” Betos countered. “If ADVENT wants to kill me…realistically, I don’t know how much we can do to stop them. I wasn’t Intelligence, so I don’t know their latest methods, but I was a Marshal. That isn’t something I can predict well, and we don’t have any former agents with us.”

“I don’t think ADVENT will be particularly creative if they want you dead,” Mox stated, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “They are legally permitted to kill any of us now. It’s not like they need plausible deniability.”

That raised some alarm bells in her head, because Mox was right. “If that is the case…why aren’t they doing anything?”

“My opinion?” Mox asked rhetorically. “They’re likely predicting your plan, and they want you to fail at it. Best case for them is that it fails and distracts the most powerful countries in Africa, and worst they hope you otherwise weaken them, as well as yourselves. Or it could be because they don’t see us as a threat.”

“We aren’t one,” Betos said wearily. “Not yet. Even if by some miracle we unite the African countries in an actual military alliance, they still aren’t strong enough to hold out against ADVENT.”

“Yet,” Mox clarified. “And they don’t need to be. They just need to be strong enough to give ADVENT pause. If Africa is too much trouble for them, then they’ll move on.”

“In an ideal world,” Betos nodded. “However, I don’t expect things to work out that easily.”

And they drove in silence the rest of the way to the capital, as Betos prepared for what would be the first diplomatic attempt of her life. Hopefully she wouldn’t screw it up.

***

_Vitakar, En route to designated coordinates_

From the moment Nartha had strapped himself into his speeder, he was certain someone was watching him. However, now that the Nulorian knew who he was, he would have been more surprised if they _weren’t_ keeping tabs on him. There were no Zararch watching him, he was certain of that, having made sure to check and alter Zararch schedules as needed.

No, all they knew was that he was going to be investigating Nulorian activity in the Borelian Wastes. It would take him some time to get there, even with the speeder, but he knew he would make it on time.

Using the speeder was a bit conspicuous, since personal vehicles were rare, and most relied on the interconnected trains between and within cities. Personal vehicles were seen as unnecessary, and were usually only allowed for government workers. That had been one of the first shocking things about Earth, how it was more uncommon _not_ to have a form of personal transportation.

Humans in general didn’t seem to be fans of such concepts. They did exist, especially in the cases of planes and cruise ships, but those were only ever used for long distances. Public transportation was an afterthought from what he’d seen. Well, with a few exceptions, namely Europe. But it wasn’t _just_ owning a personal vehicle that was interesting to him, but how seriously some Humans took it.

Nartha liked his speeder. It was useful and got him places. But it was one of three models, different ones for different climates, and all of them were colored a dark gray. But some of the lengths Humans went to show off their vehicles, and the sheer amount of _choice_ they had was amazing. He almost wished they could take some inspiration from the Humans and add some color to the speeders. It couldn’t hurt.

He looked over at his GPS which showed him approaching the coordinates. It was going to be right on the Borial Strait, which led into the _Manda_ , the ocean that surrounded the entire continent, and home of the Sar’Manda Empire. Wonderful. Hopefully the Nulorian knew better than to encroach on Sar’Manda territory, although technically the _entire_ ocean was Sar’Manda territory.

In theory.

Nartha had always found the Sar’Manda both curious, and extremely annoying. The way they had evolved was so different from any other race, it was virtually an alien species all to itself. Their way of life, technology, food, clothing; almost every aspect of their society was alien, even to other Vitakara. They became annoying when it was apparent that they didn’t care about anyone but themselves.

He was pretty sure the only reason they joined the Aui’Vitakar was because of some obligation, which they never did anything more than the bare minimum. If it didn’t affect the Empire, they abstained, and if it affected the Empire negatively, they usually ignored it. Because really, how could you regulate an Empire that is _completely underwater_?

So the end result was that the Sar’Manda never really did anything, and the rest of the races ignored them, and everyone was fine with it. But it was still irritating to deal with them, especially when they refused to use translators. Even the Oyariah at least _participated_ in government, even if they were Ethereal puppets.

He shook his head. He wasn’t quite sure where that tangent had come from, but it _did_ make him realize that the Sar’Manda would be rather useful if he hoped to turn the Vitakara against the Ethereals. Unfortunately, he wasn’t even sure they’d care. To his knowledge, they had never actually hosted an Ethereal in their Empire.

But that was a problem for another day.

 _“Arriving at destination,”_ the metallic voice stated as he pulled up to the edge of the Strait. _“Disembark when ready.”_

“Here we go,” he muttered to himself and popped open the hood with a hiss, then winced as the freezing air washed over him. He stepped out into the snow and took a few deep breaths; acclimating to the new climate. He was bundled well, but even without it, Vitakarians were very difficult to kill with extreme weather alone.

Adaptability truly was a gift.

It appeared the Nulorian hadn’t shown up yet, so he rested against the speeder and looked around the so-called “Wastes”. That pretty much translated to _endless dunes of snow_ , not so much ‘wastes’ as the traditional word implied. It was beautiful though, especially from the moonlight shining down on it, giving it a sparkling quality.

The water in the Strait rushed noisily along, fairly rough for a river, but Nartha knew that it could be easily navigated with proper naval equipment. Then the water suddenly bubbled and a submarine emerged.

Nartha drew his weapon; eyeing the submarine warily. It definitely looked to be Sar’Manda, since they were the only ones who put any effort into naval tech, and this was _not_ a commercial sub, but one used for personal use, or small groups. Given the circumstances, he supposed that the Nulorian had stolen one and were using it in their own operations.

A new thought struck him.

Maybe the reason the Zararch had never been able to track down the Nulorian was because their main base was only accessible by submarine. Which begged the question…how had they acquired it? Sar’Manda were notoriously hostile towards outsiders, and he couldn’t imagine something like this would be ignored by them…unless they’d struck a deal?

Nartha snorted at that, even as he kept his weapon up. It would definitely be like the Sar’Manda to ignore a terrorist organization if they promised not to harm the Empire. It would fall within their expected behaviors. The ‘roof’ of the torpedo-shaped submarine slid down and three figures stepped out.

Two were Vitakarians, both bundled and helmeted with stolen Runianarch gear, painted with the glyph of the Nulorian, and there were other writings in Ethereal script that roughly translated to _defiant, defender_ , and a phrase that roughly translated to _bane of the puppets_. Very melodramatic, and what he expected from such groups.

Although the armor of the other one simply had numbers, which he didn’t know if they were kill counts or something else. The final figure was a Borelian, also kitted out in stolen Runianarch gear. However, the leader appeared to be the one with the numbers on his armor. The figure gestured and the other two raised their plasma weapons. Nartha didn’t lower his own.

“You are Zar’nartha’intha?” The figure asked in an altered voice, albeit clearly male.

Nartha gave a single nod. “Yes.”

“You wanted to meet with us.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I suppose you did as well,” he answered back. “Else you wouldn’t be here.” Nartha motioned towards the sub. “Interesting piece of equipment you have. Sar’Manda wouldn’t give that up easily.”

“Most aren’t willing to give up what they own easily,” he answered back neutrally. “We don’t have issues taking from the puppets.”

Well, maybe the Nulorian _were_ brazen enough to steal Sar’Manda equipment and get away with it. “You know why I’m here,” he continued. “Are you still interested in what I have to say?”

The leader motioned to the other Vitakarian who pulled out a kind of scanner and began approaching his speeder. “You’ve surprised us,” the leader said. “Yet we also know you turned over valuable assets while preserving others. You may be genuine, but your methods have cost us.”

“I am in the Zararch,” Nartha reminded him easily. “It is unfortunate I had to turn over your allies, but I have to ensure my own treason is not discovered. If you noticed, I preserved the more useful ones for you.”

“Asset classification is not up to you,” the leader continued. “But there are considerations that have to be acknowledged. We are acting under the assumption that you will prove more valuable than them.” There was a pause. “If that is not the case, we will be… _disappointed_.”

Nartha gave a single nod. “Understood. Are we going to have this discussion here?”

“No,” the leader said. “But before we leave, we need to confirm you are not bugged or otherwise compromised. I would request you leave your weapon as well.”

“No,” Nartha warned. “I am well aware of your reputation, and going wherever you are taking me unarmed is not something I will do.”

The Nulorian leader eyed him for a moment. “Then understand that any sudden movements will lead to your immediate termination. We do not take chances, especially with traitor Zararch agents.”

“Forgive us for not trusting you yet,” the Borelian rumbled. “But I’m sure you can understand our hesitation.”

“I can,” Nartha agreed. “I don’t suppose you’d share your name?”

“That is not relevant,” the leader said unsurprisingly. It had been worth a shot. “The less you know, the better. If in fact you are genuine, that doesn’t mean you will elude the Zararch forever. No one can withstand Sectoid psionic reading.”

Another fair point. Nartha glanced backwards to the other Nulorian. “You’re not going to find anything.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the female Nulorian said as she continued. “But I doubt you’d be stupid enough to try and trick us.”

“Stay and watch if anyone has followed him,” the leader ordered her. “Nartha, come with us.” They waved him toward the sub which had just enough room for one person per seat, and it was four seats long. They were larger than would likely be needed, but he could imagine the Borelian was thankful for the extra size.

“Second seat, mind the gap,” the leader said as he stepped into the pilot seat and began powering the haptic display. “Strap in. Submarine travel isn’t as smooth as you’re imagining.”

“Largely because of your driving,” the Borelian commented dryly. Nartha almost started at a _Borelian_ of all things making a _joke_. He shook his head in disbelief and stepped into the seat and strapped in. “No hard feelings Nartha, but I’ll be holding a gun to your head the entire time,” the Borelian said as she took the seat behind him. “No hard feelings.”

Nartha just sighed and accepted that this was going to be an interesting ride. Joking Borelians and nameless Nulorian leaders who were bad submarine drivers. Whatever happened, he was looking forward to actually seeing how the Nulorian operated.

***

_Argentina_

Seasons were really strange in Argentina. Volk had been surprised to find that it was almost entirely flipped from the United States, or pretty much North America entirely. Winter was Summer, and Fall was Spring, and even _then_ it varied depending on where exactly in Argentina you were. Being in the middle of the country, the climate wasn’t… _bad_ , especially since it was mild in the traditionally “fall” months.

Not that it really made a difference to him. The climate didn’t matter, he and his people could survive it.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have preferences.

Most people would, before a meeting with a fairly influential government, do some kind of preparation. Maybe dress up a bit, review the material that would likely be discussed, or leave a few minutes early. And had this been a meeting he considered actually important, then he _might_ do that as well.

But Volk knew exactly how this was going to go. Government rep (he didn’t care enough to learn the name; didn’t matter anyway) would review what they did, he would agree, they would say ‘thank you, here is your next list of targets’ he would accept, take the equipment they brought as payment, and leave. Rinse and repeat.

Or more unlikely, they would just terminate their contract and he was on his own.

Volk did not personally care if the Argentinians wanted to work with him or not. If they did, great, if not, then it wasn’t as though there was a shortage of work. Elena regularly brought at least a dozen letters every week from people requesting help, and if one seemed like a worthy cause, he’d send one of his people to extract them.

Barack managed all incoming messages, and Volk was happy to let him do the advertising/moderating. He had helped set up the initial points of contact, but over the past five years it had gotten much larger than he’d expected. Generally, most people were respectful of his time and only tried contacting if they were in mortal danger. Then there were the idiots who thought that being censored on the internet was equivalent to being held in prison for writing an expose on a powerful government official.

Whatever, the point was he was never short on work, and with ADVENT on the rise, business would definitely not slow down.

He set the book he was reading down on his lap as he mused on the state of the world now. ADVENT became more and more odd the more he looked into it. It was a strange juxtaposition of differing countries and cultures trying to form a unified front. There were places where people were treated badly like all Brazil under the lunatic Luana, and then there was the Middle East, which, from the accounts he had gotten, was potentially worse.

And on the _other_ hand, the other countries with established democracies like the United States were…he had to admit, not exactly what he would call ‘problematic’. The only issue was that ADVENT had shown a clear willingness to use their power to shut down those who stood against them, and Brazil, the Middle East, and Canada were proof that no matter how reasonable ADVENT presented themselves, they were ultimately ruthless and merciless to those they disagreed with.

Well, he wasn’t going to bring it crashing down, but he’d do his part to help out the people affected by them. And if he got paid for it, that was just a nice bonus.

He heard a couple people walking towards him and looked up to see Elena and Ali, one of his best operatives, walking up. Both were fully armed and armored, filtering masks strapped to their waists. “Good book?” Ali asked rhetorically. He’d never thought Volk’s habit of reading was a particularly good usage of time, and made sure to rib him about it whenever it came up.

Not that Volk cared that much. Reading was one of the few things he enjoyed, and if someone didn’t like it, then that was just too bad. He was entitled to some entertainment now and again. “It isn’t bad,” he asked, holding it up. “Thought it was rather topical.”

Ali snorted once he saw the cover. “War of the Worlds. Ha ha, very funny.”

“Keep your sarcasm,” Volk chuckled, bookmarking his spot and standing. “I like it.”

He’d gone on something of a science fiction-alien invasion binge lately for obvious reasons. It amused him quite a lot to read about how different people imagined aliens would be. All of them were mostly wrong, but that was to be expected. Some were closer than others in descriptions, some were even more alien than the _real_ ones.

Volk wondered if any aliens had actually read any books of the genre, or watched any movies for that matter. The mental image of one of those Sectoids watching _Independence Day_ and taking notes about what _not_ to do was one he found especially funny. It was nice reading about how the Humans managed to find the one weakness of the alien, or otherwise defeated them with Human ingenuity.

Unfortunate that was likely not going to happen in the real world. He was certain ADVENT would try their best though, and he would certainly watch with interest.

“Anyway, we’re ready to go,” Ali said, bringing him back to reality. “Don’t want to keep the suits waiting.”

“It won’t kill them to wait a few minutes,” Volk said, slinging his own rifle over his shoulder. “But they are paying clients, so best stay on good terms. Let’s go.”

***

_Vitakar, Unknown_

The Borelian had been right. Or maybe all submarine trips were like that. Either way, the pilot had driven like what appeared to be like a madman, but what Nartha suspected was an attempt to completely disorient him. Spinning, complete reversals of direction, sudden plunges and rises, it was a good thing he didn’t get sick from this.

If disorientation had actually been the goal, it had succeeded without question. Nartha had absolutely no idea where they were, and were now rising into what appeared to be a cave.

“Up and out,” the leader said, as the top opened up and cool air rushed in. So likely still in Borelia somewhere. Definitely a natural cave, which was currently kitted out with elerium-powered lights, caches of non-perishable food and a _lot_ of weapon caches. Not just knockoffs either, but genuine Runianarch plasma rifles.

The Nulorian should _not_ have had this much high-end equipment.

There were more Nulorian in the cave itself, mostly Vitakarian, but there were a few Borelians in the mix as well, all of them either had weapons pointed at him, or were eyeing him suspiciously. Nartha figured the only reason he hadn’t seen different races was because of the climate. It was a documented fact that there was at least one person of every race, with the exception of the Sar’Manda, who was at one point Nulorian. Oyariah were almost unheard of, and the climate here was bad for Dath’Haram and Cobrarian. They likely occupied warmer bases.

“So, where to?” Nartha asked lightly as the leader walked forward, and the Borelian gestured for him to follow.

“Just follow me,” was all the leader said as they walked into a stony corridor. “You’ll talk to one of the Nularis, leaders of our cells. Don’t bother asking for names again, he won’t give you his.”

“Not that you’ll need it,” the Borelian said behind him. “You’re getting to speak to him. Be grateful we aren’t just interrogating you.”

Nartha sniffed. “It would be a pointless interrogation, and you’d be fools to assume I don’t have something in mind should you betray me.”

“Typical Zararch,” the leader muttered as the corridor turned. “That is a reason, yes, but you wouldn’t be the first Zararch agent I’ve killed.”

It appeared this was somewhat personal then. Fair enough. Nartha was somewhat disappointed he wasn’t actually meeting Miridian, the infamous leader of the Nulorian, but he wasn’t surprised. He assumed that should this go well, and he continued helping the Nulorian, he’d meet him eventually. But for now, one of these Nularis would suffice.

“In there,” the leader said, stopping to unlock a metal door. “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you,” Nartha said and stepped into the room.

It was much dimmer than the well-lit corridor, with only a few light posts in the small room. In roughly the center was a massive figure sitting at a beautifully carved Dath’Haram treetable, reading something on a haptic pad.

An Oyariah.

Well, this was certainly interesting. He wasn’t entirely shocked they existed in the Nulorian, but one in a relative position of power was an unexpected twist to this operation. No wonder the other Nulorian had felt comfortable leaving him in here alone. Oyariah were almost impossible to kill without specialized equipment, and his plasma rifle wouldn’t be powerful enough on its own to kill him.

Oyariah themselves had always been an intimidating race, even though their numbers were much smaller. They towered over every other race by several heads, even their smallest ones were eight feet high in Human measurements. But that wasn’t what made them dangerous.

The race itself had armor for skin. Nartha wasn’t completely sure of the biology behind it, but Oyariah had a simple weak layer of skin like most, and over time they would go through a scaling process which eventually hardened to something resembling stone. Over a period of years they would eventually grow what essentially amounted to their own suit of armor.

Most Oyariah, once the armor reached a certain point, began maintaining it more strictly. It wasn’t uncommon for them to sculpt their bodies into different patterns and styles. Some opted to only have what amounted to light armor, while others allowed their bodies to be as difficult to kill as possible.

But what most people found unnerving about the Oyariah were their faces. Or more specifically, the lack thereof.

Every part of their body grew armor, and their faces were no exception. Because of this, and due to evolving in underground caves, and facing the monstrous animals that dwelled down there, the senses of Oyariah were the best of any race, although they were naturally blind. Their eyes still existed, but had they not surfaced and joined the Aui’Vitakar, it was entirely possible they would have lost them altogether.

Since sight wasn’t needed in their underground cities, most Oyariah simply let the armor cover their eyes, permanently blinding them. Their mouths functioned mostly the same as the other races, but like the rest of their bodies, they had to carefully maintain the armor growth if they wanted to use it properly, else it would cover the mouth.

There were some Oyariah that let this happen, especially the Runianarch Titans, who instead took nutrient injections in place of actual food. It offered great protection, but there was a high price to pay.

This Oyariah had his mouth visible, as well as the eyes which were a silky white, although the armor around those parts was delicately designed to what appeared to be overlapping layers and Oyariah Hieroglyphs cut into the cheeks. Genetic engineering made it possible for Oyariah to see, and it was one of the few genetic procedures that was still allowed on Vitakar, and almost all Oyariah who visited the surface underwent it.

Including Nulorian, it seemed.

“You are Nartha,” the Oyariah rumbled in a gravelly voice. “The Zararch agent who has supposedly turned against the puppets.”

Nartha gave a single nod. “That is correct.”

The Oyariah set down the haptic pad to look at him fully. He stared for a long enough time that Nartha was wondering if he was waiting for something. “Vitakarian. Recent genetic tampering. You were on Earth.”

Another nod. “I believe I mentioned this.”

“Zararch agents lie,” the Oyariah growled. “You could have made that up. You can forge documents with us none the wiser. You have resources we don’t. I do not trust without proof, and now I have it.”

Nartha crossed his arms. “And how did you determine that?”

The Oyariah pointed.  “You still bear the smell of a species that I have never encountered. Your body reeks of the chemicals of genetic modification. The Zararch were attempting to replicate human likenesses. I know this. You were one of them. You were turned into an infiltrator, then you reverted to your natural form. The appearances change, but your body chemistry is forever altered.”

The Oyariah drew in a nasally breath. “It is not surprising you are unfamiliar with the capabilities of my race, but you are not a liar. Not yet. We shall continue.”

Nartha took a few steps forward. “I assume you acquired the contents of what I wanted delivered to you.”

“Yes.” The Oyariah stated, resting his thick black-armored hands on the treetable. “I was skeptical. But I cannot prove what you provided is not genuine; and if it is, that is something we can exploit. If the Elders can die to these primitive Humans, then they can die to us.”

“Whatever the Humans are, they are _not_ primitive,” Nartha shook his head. “The Ethereals made that mistake, and now one of them is dead. They are fighting when they should have died. Underestimating Humanity is a mistake, and they are the reason I am here to begin with.”

“So you say,” the Oyariah said, the black skin armor seeming to absorb all light in the room. “The Humans do not matter now. They cannot affect Vitakar, and until they can, their accomplishments are pointless to us. Let them fight the Elders and die. I did not approve your visit to discuss what the _Humans_ can do for us, but what _you_ can.”

Nartha couldn’t entirely blame the Nulorian for dismissing the Humans right away. Right now there _wasn’t_ anything that could be done. However, once the Humans figured out Gateways, that would be a different story. “Fair enough…Nularis,” he said, deciding a title was better than no name at all. “You know where I am placed, and I can help you.”

“You are ruthless with my contacts, but you do possess some tactical insight,” the Oyariah growled, standing. “Despite systematically dismantling our operations in Intha, you did preserve our most useful assets, if not coopted them. Some of my brethren do not approve, but we all have roles to play. You have proven so far your intentions are genuine, so I am willing to entertain what you can do.”

“That would depend on what you want,” Nartha said slowly. “I cannot predict where I will be sent next, but I can make impacts in other ways. Dropped Zararch interest. Vulnerable equipment shipments. Recruitment. What exactly do you envision for a Zararch mole?”

The Oyariah stared down at him intensely. “I want you to damage the Collective and the puppets that rule it. Kill, sabotage, or otherwise disrupt the war machine of the Collective. You will not ever be one of us, but that does not mean you cannot help us accomplish our objective, and we need to _spread_.”

“To the colonies,” Nartha said. “Desolan. The science facilities.”

“A means to an end,” the Oyariah dismissed. “Yes, but those places are irrelevant, with the possible exception of Desolan. The only damage is to hit the military. The Lurainian. The Runianarch. The _Zararch_. We need _our_ people in there. _That_ is how you can help us.”

Nartha considered a few moments. “Understand that I can’t just allow large quantities, nor do it often,” he warned. “It would draw attention. It _is_ possible, but be realistic about the-“

“I do not require dozens of operatives,” the massive stone-covered figure rumbled. “One or two will suffice for now. Provided you follow through, of course.”

“As for colonies…” Nartha paused. “That might be easier. I have a contact in the Aui’Vitakar who would likely take care of the…more legal aspects. If one or two were to be added, that could be arranged.”

The Oyariah turned his head slightly. “I don’t suppose you’d share who this is?”

“She is in the Cobrarian Hierarchy,” Nartha said simply. “That is all you need to know.”

“Good,” the Oyariah sat back down. “I don’t care how you do it, only that it gets done. Our communication is established, and we will continue with it until notified otherwise.”

This was going much smoother than he’d anticipated. Excellent. “Then that will be all. I expect I will be recalled soon. And as a final warning, I would abandon this location, as I will be including the ‘clear remnants of a Nulorian base’ in my report.”

“Anticipated,” the Oyariah stated bluntly. “We will be gone. Understand this, Nartha, whatever goals you have for working with us, they are not the same as ours. You may wish to inspire us to fight for some ideal of freedom, but none of us care about that. All that matters is that we kill as many of the puppets as possible. That is our goal, nothing more.”

Nartha pursed his lips. “I’m aware of your methods. But I hope you see that can change.”

“That is a discussion for the future,” the Oyariah said, picking up the haptic pad again. “But I am not optimistic. Fare well, Zar’nartha’intha, may the Elders rot in the void.”

On that clear dismissal, Nartha turned and left. The Nulorian would be a useful blunt instrument to wield against the Collective to destroy the worst aspects of it, and weaken it overall. However, that wasn’t going to be the goal of his mission. It was something that could be achieved; he just had to work hard to realize it.

Besides, if the Nulorian didn’t come around, there were plenty of others that would.

***

_Nigeria, Abuja_

Betos was fairly sure that this was the largest city in the entire country, or at least the most sophisticated from a modern standpoint. It didn’t seem too different from some of the cities in Israel, not even taking into account the various European and American cities. Still, at least here it wasn’t the third world country she had feared. Good.

And right now she was being escorted by the Nigerian Armed Forces to meet President Ndulue Okon, with Mox at her side. There was a decent amount of attention from the civilians who were watching as well as the scattered media. Although she couldn’t help but notice some of those filming were being confronted by other soldiers.

She frowned at that. While she could see why the President didn’t want this to be a major public event, that didn’t exactly give a good impression. Then again, ADVENT was surely watching local media…

No, ADVENT would know where she was. Trying to hide it was pointless. She’d have to bring this up with him once they met.

They entered the Presidential Villa which seemed to be a pleasant place just from the well-maintained landscaping and expensive furniture in the villa itself. The floors were tiled; a shiny tan for the color which their boots clacked on while they walked. Betos ignored most of the luxury, instead thinking about what was coming next.

Almost none of the soldiers had addressed them directly, except for the captain who had given instructions to follow. She wasn’t sure if they even understood English, but they had most certainly been taking second looks at their armor and weapons. “In here,” the captain said, stopping in front of two wooden double doors.

He opened them and Betos and Mox stepped into it, and were immediately greeted with a room that equaled the other ones in terms of luxury, with an abundance of the color white. The walls, tile, and most of the furniture was white, and bookshelves lined the walls, while in the center was a table prepared for three with the President standing and waiting for them.

He wasted no time. “Marshal Betos,” he greeted, stepping forward and extending a hand. “Welcome to my capital.”

Betos took the extended hand, getting a good look at the president. “A pleasure, President Odon.” He stood slightly taller than her, maybe six feet, had short graying hair, with a short beard to match. He wore some small-rimmed glasses as well, which gave him a more scholarly look than anything else.

He wore a standard black suit that contrasted sharply with the colors of the room. For that matter, all of them were in contrast to the color scheme. Well, not like they were trying to win any contests. “Mox,” he also greeted. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Mox inclined his head. “The feeling is mutual, Mr. President. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Indeed,” Okon nodded, motioning to the table. “However, this is the world we now live in. While we discuss this, I had food prepared so we can talk like civilized people.”

“Appreciated,” Betos said automatically. In truth she wasn’t really hungry, but no point in turning down a gesture of hospitality. They took their seats, her and Mox opposite each other, with President Okon in the middle. She looked at the dish before her. Some kind of steak she guessed, with a mixture of vegetables on the side. Not bad.

“I was surprised to hear from you, Mox,” Okon finally said as they tentatively ate. “Especially when you asked for what I can only assume is asylum.”

“Not asylum,” Mox immediately dismissed, shaking his head. “But a potential opportunity. You have been keeping track of the events in the world, I presume?”

Okon gave a grave nod. “It is troubling. Both the aliens and ADVENT.”

“And what is your opinion towards ADVENT?” Betos asked. “Do you foresee Nigeria joining?”

Okon gave a short laugh. “If that were the case, we would not be speaking. ADVENT is too… _dangerous_ …for my tastes. For such a powerful organization to arise in such a short time…” he shook his head. “Whether this was planned ahead of time, or merely a coincidence is irrelevant. I will not willingly bend the knee to such an organization.”

Betos quietly set her fork down. “You would not be able to stop them.”

“No,” Okon admitted grimly. “That is unlikely. All that can be realistically hoped is for ADVENT to ignore us. We have our own problems here, and if we focus on them, we can hopefully avoid both the aliens or ADVENT.”

“You do not consider the aliens a threat?” Mox asked.

Okon took a sip of water. “Perhaps. I am more familiar with the aliens than you might expect. Nigeria was one of the countries to initially fund XCOM. However…XCOM was never completely on our side. By the end they were deliberately defying the sensible members of the overseeing body,” he paused, shaking his head. “The Commander of XCOM is not…someone who can or should be trusted. Seeing him have such influence in ADVENT is concerning.”

This was interesting. She and Mox exchanged glances. “Why?” Betos asked.

The President was silent for several moments. “I will not give details, Marshal, suffice to say I do not trust someone who would burn half of Earth if it meant defeating the aliens. Everything is expendable to him, and men like that in such positions are dangerous. Suffice to say I want nothing to do with him. Do not ask for more.”

His tone was even throughout, but Betos was fairly certain he was actually _afraid_ of the Commander of XCOM.

Why?

He was ruthless, for certain, but that was not much different from quite a few people in ADVENT. What made him so much worse?

Either way, it sounded like that was a big reason why the President was so leery of ADVENT. Curious, but something she could look into later. “ADVENT wants to unite the world under their rule,” Betos said, changing topics. “It might not be now, it might not even be until the war is concluded, but they _will_ try and see this accomplished. If nothing is done, that will happen to not just Nigeria, but Africa itself.”

Okon looked skeptical. “Unlikely. It would be far too much trouble than it is worth.”

“No, Mr. President, it would not,” Betos disputed calmly. “ADVENT captured the Middle East in roughly a day. Do you really think taking a continent would be something impossible for them?”

“China perhaps has the right idea,” Okon said. “Stay out of their way, and they will overlook us. I do hope you are not suggesting we _fight_ them?”

“Of course not,” Betos shook her head. “That would be suicidal. No, the only reason they do not want China now is because they _would_ be too troublesome to properly deal with, especially during the alien invasion. And the more important reason is because China is _large_.”

“Size didn’t stop Canada,” Okon noted.

“There were some additional factors,” Mox chimed in. “Namely that the military betrayed the government to help ADVENT. Had that not happened, they would not have annexed the country so easily.”

Okon looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “You have an idea, Marshal?”

“If you wish to preserve any sort of autonomy, you need to establish yourself as a continental power like China has,” Betos began. “You, to be honest, are too small for ADVENT to consider any kind of threat, let alone a diplomatic power. But if several of the countries were to unite under one unified alliance, that would be a different story.”

Okon stared at her in what she could only describe as disbelief. “You want to _unite_ the African nations?”

“That is the simple explanation,” Betos confirmed with a nod. “Not the non-binding alliance you have now. An actual military and economic alliance. It is the only thing ADVENT would recognize.”

“You would have _us_ ally with Sudan, Libya, and Congo?” He asked in shock. “And be as _equals_?”

“Ideally,” Betos nodded. “It’s-“

“I do not believe you know what you are saying,” Okon said, his tone suddenly cold. “It is one thing to maintain diplomatic relations with these countries. That does _not_ mean that they are worth allying with, let alone _trusting_.”

“Betos meant no offense,” Mox quickly interjected. “And it doesn’t necessarily mean that they would be _equals_ per-se. This _would_ need a leader, after all.”

 _No,_ Betos thought, _that’s not how this should work_. But she held her tongue since she had badly underestimated just how strongly the President felt on the idea. “I did not mean to insult you,” she said carefully. “But please look at this from a logical standpoint. Trust is not required yet, but even if it is tenuous, it will send a signal to ADVENT that they can’t do whatever they please without consequences.”

Okon took an audible breath. “You are excused this time, Marshal, but do not suggest again such a notion that they would be of equal importance to us. The more important question right now is what you can offer _us_. If I am to… _support…_ such an idea, with us dictating the terms, then we will need something from you.”

Betos carefully and slowly set her pistol on the table. “We have the schematics to develop the gauss weaponry ADVENT uses. If it could be mass-produced, your army has the means to potentially equal ADVENT’s own. It would give them more pause than conventional weaponry. In addition, you’ll have the support of my own soldiers.”

“I see,” the President said, his original calm returning. “Quite an offer. One no one else would have here.”

Betos was not exactly reassured by that phrasing. “I assume that this weaponry we are gifting you would be used responsibly,” she said neutrally. “It should be as a deterrent to ADVENT, as well as any other threats.”

“Of course,” the President said quickly. “We would not want to emulate ADVENT, would we?”

“We would need a more permanent location to stay,” Betos continued. “But we would help construct it, of course, as well as training your own forces on ADVENT tactics.”

“I believe I can permit this,” President Okon nodded. “But you must first prove what you say is true. Once we have the schematics, you and your soldiers will be relocated to a more suitable location.”

She wasn’t comfortable with the deal hinging on if she was willing to give him the weapons. That was not her goal, but it seemed to be what he was focusing on. Perhaps wisely, since it _would_ provide an effective deterrent to ADVENT.

And in the end, there wasn’t much of a choice if she wanted this to work. “Done.”

He gave a broad smile. “Excellent! I very much look forward to working together, Marshal Betos. I have a feeling that we will bring great change to the continent. In the interest of cooperation, of course.”

As they shook once on the deal, Betos couldn’t decide if the President was mocking her or not, but either way she couldn’t help but feel this was not going to turn out as well as she was hoping. But she was committed now, and would do her best to make this work.

***

_Vitakar, Intha Zararch Base_

_“For your time off, you certainly accomplished a lot,”_ the hologram of the Zar’Chon said as he addressed Nartha from the Communication Room of the Zararch base. This was one area where there was no question of which species had the better technology. Humans still hadn’t mastered or really even completely figured out having simultaneous worldwide communications in a realistic fashion.

Vitakara communication rooms were essentially a small circular radius with a holoprojector above, which could be configured for haptic displays as well, although that wasn’t needed as much. The holograms themselves were nearly photorealistic, with the figures only having a faint shimmering outline that you had to intentionally look for to truly notice.

He might have to see about getting this to XCOM. They could probably use it.

“Thank you,” he answered the Zar’Chon, inclining his head. “The Nulorian presence in Intha should be crippled for the foreseeable future.”

 _“They have spread further than I am comfortable with,”_ the Zar’Chon muttered, looking at the hololist displayed from his prosthetic limb. _“Nearly a half of one percent of the population of Intha was suspected Nulorian, and three quarters of them actually were. Unacceptable. We will need to take steps.”_

Nartha internally winced. That was not good, but the Nulorian _had_ to be expecting it with how they were becoming more brazen and recruiting more people. At some point the Zararch _were_ going to come down on them hard. And unfortunately, he wouldn’t be there every time. However, he was curious if the Zar’Chon knew anything he didn’t. “Based on what I’ve found, the Nulorian are getting prime weapon models smuggled to them,” he said. “That shouldn’t be possible. Every weapons shipment is checked. And given the hideout I found, they also have submarine tech, which has the same sort of restrictions. Even more so since all commercial submarines are from the Sar’Manda Empire.”

 _“The Sar’Manda are being questioned now,”_ the Zar’Chon said coolly. _“They did appear to have notified us that one of their submarines were stolen.”_

Nartha frowned. “And we never acted.”

 _“No, we did,”_ the Zar’Chon said slowly. _“We recovered the sub. However, perhaps they forgot to inform us of a second one.”_

“Or that hideout was older than I thought,” Nartha noted. “It is not like the Sar’Manda to lie.”

 _“No, it isn’t,”_ the Zar’Chon agreed with a nod, his eyes seeming to grow brighter. _“Regardless, that is not your concern. The Nulorian are not a major concern at this moment, and they will likely not become one. Your job here is done.”_

“Understood,” Nartha nodded. “What is my next assignment?”

The Zar’Chon glanced down at the hololist projecting from his hand. _“We have a potential problem on Desolan. There have been several instances where Muton Berserkers have died due to unexplained chemical overdoses. This would not normally be a problem, except that is has been happening every day for the past two weeks. This indicates this was a staggered attack, as well as sophisticated.”_

Nartha thought for a moment. “The number of people who both have access to chemicals of that potency as well as the knowledge to apply them can’t be high.”

 _“Desolan is home to nearly a billion non-Mutons,”_ the Zar’Chon reminded him. _“Not including the ones in orbital stations. The list is exhaustive, which is why you will only be tasked with a specific list. I have multiple Zararch agents who are going to take other parts. I don’t know if this is a larger or coordinated effort, but it needs to be stopped.”_

Wonderful. Well, he had a clear objective, one to possibly subvert, but to do so he would have a suspect list that would _likely_ number in the thousands, and also be working against dozens of other Zararch agents. _That_ was going to be a daunting task, but he kept a straight face. “I’ll head there immediately. Is there anything else?”

 _“Yes,”_ the Zar’Chon nodded gravely. _“This Berserker incident is unfortunate, but one which doesn’t hurt our output. The larger concern is that there are entire groups of young Mutons who have disappeared. This has been happening over the past year, and is subtle enough that we haven’t been asked to look into it until recently.”_

Nartha blinked. “How do entire groups just disappear?”

 _“Muton development is not a well-documented ordeal,”_ the Zar’Chon said emotionlessly. _“Many Mutons die before reaching a useful stage. Most bodies are accounted for, but in general no one cares if some are left unknown. This was all well and good until we realized that there have been as many as fifty-thousand to one-hundred thousand Mutons that are not accounted for.”_

Now _that_ was interesting. Barely a drop in the Muton war machine, but it was still a significant amount. “My point still stands,” Nartha repeated. “If even a fraction of those _are_ legitimately unaccounted for, there is no way they could be hidden easily. The entire planet is War Camps if I recall correctly.”

There was a brief pause. _“That is what I want you to find out,”_ the Zar’Chon said. _“I suspect that there are some traitors in the ranks. Running the camps isn’t glamorous, but it is necessary. Unfortunately, there are some who don’t believe the treatment of them is humane and might be ‘liberating’ them as a form of penance.”_

Nartha was not familiar with the Muton situation, but he found it somewhat hard to believe that. Mutons were barely sapient, and while conditions might not be ideal, risking both their life and position to _help_ them seemed preposterous. Perhaps there was something to this he wasn’t seeing. Mutons were a weapon, and if he could locate the ones behind this, a Muton army that size would come in handy.

Assuming of course, he actually _could_ find these people while keeping the Zar’Chon happy. But that was a problem he could puzzle out later. “I’ll find these traitors,” he promised. “Do you want me to prioritize this issue, or the Berserker one?”

 _“The Muton disappearances are more pressing,”_ the Zar’Chon said. _“Focus on that, although do some investigation into the Berserker overdoses as well.”_

“Acknowledged and understood,” Nartha nodded. “I’ll head there now.”

 _“Good luck,”_ the Zar’Chon said, and promptly severed the connection, leaving Nartha alone in the room.

He’d wanted to ask about Earth, but figured that could be saved until next time. As he turned to leave, he began formulating potential plans as to solve these next problems. The Nulorian were certainly going to find this interesting, and he’d best keep them informed of his position. Maybe he could even help smuggle some agents to help assist with this.

The Nulorian could do a lot with a group of Mutons, and perhaps this rogue Vitakara poisoning Berserkers.

But it was going to be a lot more difficult than Vitakar. Time to get back to doing what he was good at.

***

_Argentina, Undisclosed Location_

Volk was continuously amused that no matter the situation, government types always had to be as conspicuous as possible when ‘acting officially’. He would personally have dressed in something a little less conspicuous if he was meeting a small group of assassins/terrorists, but no, they still showed up in their suits like the good mouthpieces they were.

To be fair, there was no one around the area. Volk had several of his people scouting the area to make sure no one was listening in, while the meeting itself took place in a small house which was falling apart. The smell of rot and decay permeated the house, but Volk had been in worse. The two suits before him clearly hated it though. He’d hate to see how they’d like living in the wilderness.

Nonetheless, they had fulfilled their end of the deal and two more of his people were loading the supplies into their own vehicles as they discussed the finer points of their arrangement. Volk only had Elena with him, because she was one of the few he trusted with his life; because she visibly unnerved the suits, especially with her mask and robotic demeanor; and most importantly, because she would know if they lied to him.

He really hated liars.

While he’d been summarizing their operations, Elena had her right hand placed directly on his shoulder, while the other held a pistol. While it was certainly a kind of public intimacy, it meant something much different to Elena. For whatever reason, that was their method of communication during these conversations. If either one of the suits lied, she’d let him know without making a sound.

“So to sum up,” Volk finished. “We did our job, the Peacekeeper bases you wanted hit were and we didn’t take any casualties. All in a day’s work for us. Questions?”

The first suit rested his folded hands on the rotting table, looking intently at him. Of the two he looked the most normal, with darker skin and cropped black hair, even if he was looking a little _too_ intently at him. “You and your people have performed well. We are pleased.”

“Wonderful,” Volk said without any joy. It was exactly what he’d expected. “So, you want us to do it again, or do you not need us anymore?”

The second and more conspicuous man narrowed his one good eye at him. “You seem awfully dismissive of a potential government funded opportunity.”

Volk snorted. “No offense, but I like spending my time wisely. Honestly, these briefings are pretty much telling you what you already know. You either like it or you don’t, and you’re happy. So we either keep it going, or we don’t. Simple.”

“We _are_ satisfied,” the first suit reiterated. “And we wish to continue working with you. However, this next task will be slightly more challenging than the last.”

He pulled out a small map and placed it on the table. “How familiar are you with Uruguay?”

Volk frowned, looking on the map. “Never been there. Why?”

The second suit stared at him. “A question for you, as it relates to your skills. Could you launch an attack and make it appear as though it came from a specific country, but not be able to prove it?”

Volk cocked his head. Well, this was going to be a little different. “Frame a country? Quite likely, it isn’t hard.”

“Without being able to prove it definitively,” the second suit emphasized. “This little detail is important.”

Volk didn’t like it. “Again, I certainly have the capability, but I’ve never felt the need to do that.”

“Then this will be your first opportunity to put that to the test,” the first suit said. “We need you and your people to attack ADVENT, and subtly implicate Uruguay in doing so.”

Volk stared at them in disbelief. “And just why the fuck would I do that?”

The first suit frowned. “Because that is what we’re hiring you for?”

“Hold,” Volk said, raising a hand. “Now just _what_ would this accomplish?”

His answer wasn’t going to change, but he was _very_ curious to hear the rationale behind this. “We can’t say,” the first suit said slowly, his face not betraying anything. Elena slowly squeezed his shoulder, and Volk’s lips curled into a humorless smile.

“You’re lying,” he said coolly. “You can tell me, but you don’t want to. Not that it matters what you want, because I’m not doing _anything_ like that without more information.”

The second suit furrowed his eyebrows. “Good assassins generally don’t ask questions.”

Volk heaved a dramatic sigh. “I do a lot more than just kill people you know. Contrary to what you like to believe, that isn’t the main purpose my little band of people exists. Yeah, sometimes my job involves killing people, but please, don’t pretend like you think I’m a damn assassin. So give me an actual reason or I’m done.”

The suits were clearly baffled, which he found unreasonably amusing. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with us. Whatever your other clients, they cannot provide as much or as high quality as we can. You are a professional, and we are more than capable of paying professionals well. You would not walk away from this.”

“I don’t need you,” Volk said bluntly. “Yeah, your gear is nice and fancy, thanks for that, but please, don’t act like you’re the greatest thing since the toaster. Guess what? I was around before you guys found me, and I’m definitely not short on work. While I’m sure the idea of doing something just because it’s the decent Human thing to do eludes you, I don’t live by that same philosophy. I’m not in this for the damn payment, so promising it isn’t going to change my decision at all.”

He looked pointedly at the suits. “So, make up your minds. You going to tell me or not?”

They exchanged a look, clearly unhappy with how this was going, then the first suit sighed and began talking. “Argentina is currently in talks with several other South American nations, all of whom are concerned about ADVENT. Argentina wants to establish a continental alliance to maintain some level of autonomy in the future, since we’re certain ADVENT has their sights set on us.”

“Unfortunately, no country right now wants to risk dealing with ADVENT,” the second suit continued. “They are under the impression that if they stay quiet, they will evade ADVENT’s notice. It is a foolish and shortsighted decision, and so we are looking into ways to _propel_ them to the table.”

“Marshal Luana is unstable, and highly reactionary,” the first suit said, a finger resting on Uruguay. “Her irrationality can be exploited, and if she can be provoked, say, to unjustly invade a small defenseless country…that might be enough to convince the holdouts that ADVENT doesn’t care if you follow their rules. If they think you’re a problem, they’ll take you out.”

Volk sat back. There was no pressure on his shoulder from Elena, so they were almost certainly telling the truth. The story made sense, and from a purely logical standpoint he could appreciate the tactic. It was brutal, targeted, and effective.

Very ADVENT-like.

“Interesting strategy,” he finally said. “You could have just said that from the beginning.” Volk then leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “However, my answer remains the same. I could do what you ask, but I’m not going to.”

The face on the first suit hardened. “And why not?”

“Because, representative, I’m not in this for the same reasons you are,” Volk answered, his voice even. “Your government talks in terms of alliances, power dynamics, and practicality. I talk in terms of people, and there will be a lot of people hurt if ADVENT is provoked into invading _another_ country. People are the first things taken out of consideration in decisions like this, so someone has to step up, and in this case it’s me.”

He took a breath. “I’m not going to intentionally bring ADVENT down on Uruguay just because you want it, no matter how justified you think you are. I think ADVENT is a problem, and worth fighting, but not at the expense of the very people you claim to want to protect. Send us to hit some ADVENT Peacekeeper outposts near Uruguay if you want, _that_ I can do. If ADVENT comes to that conclusion, then well, too bad. But my role is only going to be one of killing Peacekeepers. You get that?”

The first suit nodded. “A real god damn robin hood,” the second suit muttered under his breath.

Volk smiled at that; he was more altruistic than most, certainly, but he wouldn’t go that far. Still, he liked that nickname better than the melodramatic and childish ‘Grim Reaper’. Please, he was deserving of a much better nickname than _that_.

“Fine,” the first suit finally said, standing up. “Give us a couple days to put together a list of attack points as well as your compensation. No need for us to meet again; we will convey what we want through one of your contacts. Do not disappoint us.”

“Save your threatening insinuations,” Volk dismissed with a wave, which infuriated the second suit even more. “We’ll get the job done.”

The suits didn’t say another word, and left the building, leaving him and Elena alone. She took her hand off his shoulder and he glanced up at her with a smile. “I don’t think they like me very much.”

“I estimated there was a one in two hundred chance they wished to cause you harm,” she said calmly. “Had that number risen much further, I would have shot them.”

Volk chuckled. He still wasn’t sure if that was Elena’s version of a joke, or if she actually had calculations running in her head during all conversations like this. He definitely knew she would kill them without hesitation if she felt they posed a direct threat to his life. It was rather sweet, but he really hoped she was joking in this instance.

Well, he’d treat it as such until something actually happened. “Well,” Volk said as he stood and began walking out of the house. “I guess we should start looking at Peacekeeper outposts near Uruguay.”

***

_Mars, Forward Observation Station_

Ravarian was _relaxing,_ which was quite different to what other people prescribed that word to. He considered relaxing as time for reflection on what had happened so far and what might happen in the future. Not even in the context of likely outcomes based on fact, but simple unfiltered and unfounded speculation. Highly unprofessional, but no one but Quisilia would ever know he was thinking it.

He sat on a comfortable chair which displayed a truly wonderful view of space, as he had his windows configured to an outside display. In the distance were the stars and the occasional moons of Mars. Every so often it would configure to a different set of cameras, sometimes focused on Mars itself, or Earth from the Moon Forward Establishment. Not _quite_ the same as having windows to the galaxy, but there was no way the Zar’Chon’s chambers would have such a clear weakness.

What also helped his relaxed mood was the small gray feline curled up in his lap. Quisilia, much to his chagrin, had actually gone through with his offer to get him one of the infernal furballs, and a box had suddenly materialized in front of him one day, with a message attached which said _“She reminds me of you. Enjoy!”_

And with dread in his heart, he’d opened the box, and sure enough there was a small gray cat within it, a kitten from the size but one old enough to walk around and constantly meow. He’d considered giving it to one of the staff here; one of his analysts had expressed affection for the felines, but after watching it look up at him with those big eyes and meowing, he didn’t have the heart to get rid of it.

So he’d let it follow him around, and to the little furballs credit, it didn’t seem to mind him not giving it attention as much as a normal person would. Taking care of it was far more trivial than he’d expected, thankfully. He’d set up automated food and water dispensers, as well as specific waste disposal, although it took a few days to get the stupid animal to realize _that_ was where it should defecate.

But otherwise the cat took care of itself. It ate, drank, cleaned itself, and much as he didn’t want to, Ravarian found himself liking the animal, and it _was_ a pleasant feeling when the cat suddenly jumped into his lap and made itself comfortable, purring all the while of course. But it seemed to know when it was appropriate to do it or not, and if that was Quisilia’s influence, then he would have to thank the Ethereal for that.

He supposed that if he was adopting this cat, it did deserve a proper name. He’d settled on Cali’Zar’Chon, or the Little Hunter of the Zar’Chon. Much better than naming it something idiotic like _Fluffy_.

So he sat there, petting the cat occasionally, and thinking.

Things were starting to stabilize on Earth. The annexation of Canada was disappointing, but the Zar’Chon knew things were at a turning point now. Someday, future Zar’Chons would look back on this entire operation and wonder how it could have ever been bungled so badly. In retrospect, this entire situation was the result of a series of mistakes and freak coincidences.

The Ethereals and their inexplicable tests were certainly something to consider, but there were factors they’d had little control over initially. It was unlikely the situation would be nearly as threatening if the United Nations hadn’t decided to put the Commander in charge of XCOM. Remove the Commander, and you remove EXALT, ADVENT, and likely XCOM itself from consideration. He was the catalyst to everything, and even should he die now, it wouldn’t reverse what he had set in motion.

EXALT was another instance of this, but to a lesser effect. The Ravaged One had overestimated his control and power, and as a result left a nearly broken Saudia alive. Foolish. He should have either killed the leadership or not intervened at all. All he’d done was turn Saudia against them. Remove her, and the current incarnation of ADVENT ceased to be.

One pattern, regardless of the big picture, kept emerging. They kept underestimating the Humans at every turn. There had even been talk before this entire situation if the Humans would last a month, but they had responded in the form of XCOM. The Collective had slowly ramped up operations in intensity, and they had responded by adapting their technology and fighting back.

They had attempted to terrorize the Humans, a poor tactic, and XCOM had responded by solidifying Germany as a nation against the aliens. They had retaliated by trying to destroy Beijing, and XCOM had destroyed the Dreadnought that was sent.

Ravarian grimaced as he continued remembering. They had believed they could control EXALT, and had ultimately been subverted by the fiendish Humans. The attack on the Citadel had ended with the death of an Ethereal. The invasion had prompted a violent unification of Humanity. Even now the Humans were not panicking, but only escalating their tactics.

From an objective standpoint, it was both impressive and admirable.

And concerning that only he and the Battlemaster seemed to acknowledge it. He had accepted at this point the Humans would not surrender, and it was only a matter of time before they developed psions en masse. Then the situation would get _problematic_.

Once more, he had to wonder what the Imperator was thinking.

Humoring the Humans made no logical, tactical, or practical sense.

So why do it?

“Because the Humans ultimately do not pose a threat,” Quisilia answered, appearing before him. “He has plans in motion, Zar’Chon, and the notion that a single species, on a single planet could stop them is laughable.”

“Hello to you too,” Ravarian said, not being remotely surprised. Quisilia had lost the ability to surprise him a long time ago. “I assume there is news?”

“Of a sort,” Quisilia said humorously. “I’m quite glad I accompanied Nartha on his little adventure. Truly interesting. An Oyariah Nulorian, not something seen every day.”

“He certainly covered his tracks well,” Ravarian grunted. “Had we not discovered he was a traitor, I would not have suspected much. He _did_ locate and remove Nulorian collaborators, but not _all_ of them.”

“Oh, he seemed quite proud of that,” Quisilia said with a wave. “Not important, and those Nulorian are quite barbaric. Had I not been there, the initial team sent to meet him would have interrogated him for information and killed him.”

Ravarian frowned. “I thought they would be smarter.”

“Oh, their _leader_ certainly was,” Quisilia amended. “That Oyariah I mentioned. Too bad he was stupid enough to send operatives that hate Zararch. They planned to just say he attacked and were forced to kill him. Foolish, but they’ll be on the receiving end soon enough. Won’t be quite as funny when it’s revealed that one of _them_ is Zararch.” Quisilia finished with a laugh. Ravarian suppressed a sigh at what passed for the Ethereal’s more tangible form of entertainment.

“So he has established contact with the Nulorian,” Ravarian said, focusing on the main topic. “I presume you have the method how?”

“Of course,” Quisilia confirmed easily. “What is also interesting is his little talk with Sareech. I believe a visit to the Hierarchy is in order. I doubt they’d like the loyalist males being summarily executed for their treason. At the hand of an elder, some might even consider it an honor.”

“I’d prefer we deal with the Hierarchy in a more subtle way,” Ravarian cautioned. “Let them work for now. If Sareech becomes a larger problem, I will remove her. But remove her, and it might spook Nartha. Unless you feel he’s served his purpose?”

“Not yet,” Quisilia said. “Sending him to Desolan is good, but I’d prefer you give him some reason to visit the Federation. The Nulorian are not a threat. The Andromedons are different, and I would rather not take my chances _quite_ yet with the Federation. Their distrust of telepaths is rather inconvenient at times.”

“Noted,” Ravarian said. “Then Nartha will stay a hostile asset for a while longer.”

“My work is done for now,” Quisilia said, walking away. “I believe the Battlemaster is working on the next phases of Earth operations. I expect he’ll notify you of them shortly.”

“Understood,” Ravarian said, then sighed as he decided to give the Ethereal a small victory. “And Quisilia?”

The robed Ethereal turned around. “Yes?”

“Thank you for the cat.”


	21. The Coming Storm

 

_The Praesidium, Research Labs_

Sierra had recently realized that there was still quite a bit of the Praesidium that she wasn’t familiar with, beyond the training rooms, armories, and barracks. Science and engineering had never been of much interest to her, but now being with XCOM several months, she did have to admit she was curious about some of the stuff going on behind the scenes.

These people _were_ making the stuff that was keeping them alive after all; might not hurt to go down and see some of the process.

The general labs were open to everyone; it was only a few areas that were actually restricted. Of course, those were the interesting ones, which if Sierra recalled, were the genetic labs. It was quite possible this was due to biohazards, but Sierra suspected it was because XCOM was doing stuff that wouldn’t exactly be looked upon favorably.

As to what that could entail…well, she could imagine quite a bit.

She did feel quite a bit out of place as she walked through the labs in her regular fatigues, but the scientists working didn’t seem to care about her, and kept working at their stations. XCOM had fully embraced a fusion of alien and Human tech, using devices that she’d never seen before with large running computers. Hologram and haptic displays were also used prominently, with them portraying genetic sequences, biological data, and other stuff she didn’t bother to try and puzzle out.

Sierra stopped as something caught her eye. It was a hologram recreation of what appeared to be a new suit of armor, which seemed to be like the Aegis armor, but with several attachments to the back. The blue hologram was deconstructing and reconstructing on set cycles, and she stepped forward to get a closer look.

No one was at this station, so Sierra watched it for a few minutes, reading the information that accompanied the disassembled pieces before they reconstructed into the suit again. From what she could determine, this was an attempt by XCOM to incorporate the elerium substance into armor for some kind of flight system.

Interesting.

“Tap on it if you want to pause,” a new voice interrupted. Sierra nodded at that, and reached forward.

“Thanks-“ she began glancing over to whatever scientist was speaking and almost had a heart attack when she saw the voice belonged to an alien; a female Vitakarian. She froze for several seconds, paralyzed as she wondered how there was an _alien_ standing-

Oh. Wait. This was one of the Vitakarian captives XCOM had from the Fury Base. She relaxed slightly, even if her heart was still pounding.

It didn’t help that the Vitakarian was staring at her in a way that suggested that she’d had this same effect on other people before. Sierra still wasn’t completely used to how _tall_ they were. Even their small ones were over six feet, and this one was a good few inches taller than her, dressed in a greyish uniform that had the XCOM emblem on the upper right chest, and some other logo she didn’t recognize opposite it. A special kind of uniform.

The eyes were definitely the most disconcerting part, and it wasn’t even a soft blue light, but it was as harsh as was likely possible for their biology. Figures. Objectively, it was a pretty neat part of their biology, but it made all of them inherently intimidating. “Sorry,” Sierra said, once more attempting to relax. “I forgot that-“

“That there are aliens beyond the Elder in XCOM,” the Vitakarian answered, deadpan. “Understandable. Soldiers rarely come down, and you were not among the number who assaulted the Fury Base.”

“Yes,” Sierra confirmed. “Don’t often see you this close unless I’m fighting you.” She appraised the Vitakarian. “Always forget how tall you are.”

The Vitakarian cocked her head, trying to do an imitation of a smile. “Your species is rather short as a rule. Why are you down here…Who are you?”

“Sierra,” she said. “Mostly because I’m curious. I was wondering what stuff XCOM is working on.”

The eyes of the Vitakarian widened, but Sierra didn’t know what that meant. “That could cover a lot of topics, Sierra,” she said slowly. “But it has largely been focused on elerium, and the integration of it into your technology.” She motioned to the hologram. “This is the Icarus Project, originally conceptualized as a counter to Floaters, and as an infantry air unit.”

Sierra’s eyes lit up. “So a jetpack?”

The Vitakarian pursed her lips. “I do not understand that reference.”

Sierra waved her arm dismissively. “So anyone who wears the armor could fly?”

“This is correct,” she said. “We have taken the initiative and made some improvements to the absorption capabilities of the armor, so it won’t be immediately shot out of the sky. In addition to that…” she stepped forward and began manipulating the console next to the holographic stand. “Air combat is significantly different from ground combat, with its own strengths and weaknesses. While this is not my area of expertise, additional weapons are being developed to take advantage of what is being referred to as the Archangel armor.”

A new series of images appeared, what appeared to be various improvised explosives, wrist weapons like flamethrowers. “To be used effectively, there will have to be a minor neurological link,” the Vitakarian continued. “To manipulate flight controls in combat is impossible otherwise.”

Well, there would have to be some kind of drawback. “So like a MEC?”

“No,” she denied, shaking her head. “Nothing nearly as invasive. It would only be some simple commands and instructions, no side effects like personality degeneration in first-generation MEC pilots. With that said, the MECs will also be getting their own variant of this.”

She brought up another hologram, of what Sierra could describe as a MEC that seemed to be streamlined, sleek, and with bladed wing-like attachments on various parts of the body. “The Valkyrie-Class,” she said, with what sounded like pride in her voice. “The first prototype is nearing completion. I suspect both these projects will be completed relatively soon.”

Times like this Sierra felt like she was in a science fiction movie, complete with jetpacks, giant robots, aliens, and weird purple space magic. Too bad there was a not-insignificant chance they might die. “Well, sign me up for that,” she said, then frowned, looking over at the Vitakarian. “You know, for being a captive, you don’t seem too upset.”

The Vitakarian looked at her for a few long seconds. Hm, maybe she shouldn’t have asked. “XCOM has treated us well,” she finally said. “And Aegis has revealed to us how badly our species has been used. It is difficult to feel loyalty to the Collective anymore, knowing what they have and are doing to us.” She looked away. “Not that any of us have much of a choice. We could either work for XCOM or die. Faced with that, at least I can take some satisfaction in my work.”

She shut off the console absentmindedly. “With that said, I do not enjoy knowing that my work will lead to many of my own being killed. But again, I have little choice in the matter.”

“Well, you’ve had a while to observe us,” Sierra said. “What do you think about us?”

“Your inclination and satisfaction you take towards violence is alien to me,” she said bluntly. “Your species is strange. Why you would not band together and unite despite what is happening is difficult to understand. Many of your kind seem obsessed with power and control, more motivations that I cannot realistically understand.”

She blinked once. “However, your species is brilliant and capable of incredible advancement. Within two years you have managed to reverse-engineer our technology for your own usage, and you have a capacity to adapt tactically that I have not seen in other species. I also find it fascinating that in the face of almost impossible odds, many of you do not seem to even think about surrender, even though you would most certainly live.”

“Depends,” Sierra said with a sigh. “All surrender would accomplish at this point would be ensuring we either die quick deaths, or long drawn out ones. I doubt they’d let any of XCOM live, and we would not do well as slaves or subjects to a higher alien power. That isn’t how we’re built.”

“I am curious,” the Vitakarian said. “If the Collective were to…the term is _‘sue for peace’_ , I believe, would you accept it?”

Sierra actually thought for a few moments. The possibility had never really entered her mind. It seemed to be an all or nothing outcome to this invasion. Either Humanity would win, or the Collective would. She didn’t see a scenario where the Ethereals would give up willingly, or one where Humanity just accepted, despite everything that happened.

Humans didn’t forget, and Sierra suspected most would not forgive in this case.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “If they were actually genuine, and left us alone, maybe, but that’s just my opinion. I doubt the Commander will be satisfied until the Collective is destroyed. ADVENT either for that matter. They attacked us unprovoked, without even trying to contact us; there is no reason for us to believe they wouldn’t do it again.”

“I understand that perspective to a reasonable extent,” the Vitakarian admitted. “While I would prefer this war to be settled peacefully, you are correct in saying that you have no reason to trust the Ethereals. Why they have done this is a question I have continually asked myself. There was no reason to go to war with you, yet they did without so much as a chance to negotiate.”

Sierra snorted. “More likely they felt themselves above the lowly primitives.”

A nod. “That is another possibility.”

There were a few moments of silence as Sierra crossed her arms. “I never asked your name.”

“Sala’calintha’valian.”

Sierra nodded. “Well, you seem alright for an alien. Whatever side you were on before, you’re doing good work now.”

“I suppose I will take that as a compliment,” Calintha said slowly. “Thank you?”

Sierra grinned. “Just keep making jetpack armor and you’ll remain on everyone’s good side. We always like new tech.”

“Which I should return to,” Calintha said, turning the holographic console back on. “I look forward to when you can use what we are developing here for yourselves.”

Sierra chuckled. “So do I.”

***

_The Praesidium, Templar Training Arena_

When he was much, much younger, Oliver remembered when he and his friends had all become obsessed with the medieval period, and for a time had gone all-out in pretending to be knights and kings. He had fond memories of holding mock battles and dueling his friends with cardboard swords. Eventually he’d grown out of it and realized that that period was never going to return.

Although now that seemed like it was going to change. Turned out all you needed to revive the age of melee combat was stronger armor, psionics, and upgraded weapons. There weren’t many Templars at the moment, but given that XCOM was primed to be getting a new batch of soldiers in the coming weeks, that was likely going to change.

Still, there was rarely a time where there weren’t at least a few people watching the Templars train. Sometimes Aegis was there, sometimes he wasn’t, but it didn’t entirely matter since they always came up with different ways to practice. Right now there was a mock duel taking place between Iosif and the two-man team of Carmelita and Chan.

Oliver had, quite foolishly in retrospect, thought that this would be a relatively tame affair, but from the way they had been warming up, they were clearly planning to go all out. The weapons weren’t actually XCOM standard, but the psionics certainly were. Carmelita wasn’t using her alloy cannon either in this scenario.

“Place your bets,” Oliver said lightly to the other person in the room; Nuan she’d called herself. He was pretty sure they’d talked a few times before, but not recently. She’d mostly kept to herself after first getting her arms chopped off, and then replaced. The prosthetics did look very well-crafted, but he didn’t know how well they actually functioned for her.

He wasn’t sure if it was normal or not, but he couldn’t help but notice her fingers continuously twitching and spasming. She also had a habit of flinching occasionally. If these were indications that she still wasn’t fully comfortable with the prosthetics, he didn’t know, but from what he’d seen, it seemed likely.

The Chinese woman raised an eyebrow. “Out of curiosity, who are you going for?”

“Two on one,” Oliver gestured as the Templars began preparing to duel each other. “They have the numerical advantage. Gonna have to go with them for this.”

She answered with a smile that didn’t quite seem sincere. “Well, someone has to root for the underdog. But Iosif will win this. I’ve seen him do it before.”

Oh really? “You come here often?”

She shrugged. “Not really much else for me to do while I get used to _these_ ,” she raised a prosthetic arm. “And with all the stuff happening, I doubt people want to see a Chinese soldier. Besides, I don’t like people staring.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “I’ll try not to stare.”

“Which you have already failed at,” she dryly pointed out. “Quiet, they’re starting now.”

Oliver complied and turned his attention to the duel. All of them were wearing Aegis armor, with Carmelita armed with her longsword, Chan with a Zweihander, and Iosif with a ball mace, not the flanged one he usually had. Probably less dangerous.

Iosif made a gesture and his body was immediately enshrouded in a purple shield that seemed to fit over him like another layer of armor. Chan dashed ahead, stabbing forward, which was immediately deflected by Iosif with a swipe of his weapon hand. Chan took advantage by letting the deflection carry and released one hand, flaring with psionic energy which he directed at Iosif.

The directed barrage of purple energy aimed directly at Iosif’s face was blocked by another square shield Iosif constructed a second later. While that was happening, Carmelita leapt behind him and began attacking from behind, and he immediately backed to the side so he had both of them in view. One hand was kept up, maintaining the shield while he traded blows with Carmelita with the other.

The shield dissipated and Chan resumed taking the offensive, with Carmelita backing off to let him move unrestricted. It was clear that in this instance, Chan had the superior weapon. Iosif’s mace was just not long enough to get anywhere close to striking back, but to his credit, he was deflecting the blows well with the mace and minute applications of psionic shields.

Carmelita circled behind him and thrust out her left arm, and that stinger/tentacle thing shot out and wrapped itself around his arm for a brief moment, and he couldn’t physically defend against the coming strike from Chan which slammed directly into his head.

Oliver winced.

Carmelita retracted her stringer before Iosif could rip it off or otherwise harm it, and leapt towards the vulnerable Templar. Chan immediately made another strike, but Iosif had created another, larger, psionic shield which would briefly cover where he was being attacked. At the same time he raised a hand towards Carmelita and a psionic shield suddenly appeared in the middle of the air, which she promptly slammed into, falling to the ground with a thud.

Nuan snickered. “Idiot.”

To her credit, Carmelita recovered quickly, though she seemed shaken, and it allowed Iosif to rise to his feet and he seemed rather angry. He started attacking Chan with a combination of strikes and rather creative uses of offensive psionic shields, which were used to unbalance Chan, especially around his shoulders and ankles.

Chan stabbed forward, his Zweihander engulfed in psionic flames, with his hand positioned to blast Iosif with psionic energy at the same time. Carmelita threw out her stinger again, this time wrapping it around his neck and pulling. It wasn’t strong, but it was hindering Iosif who was focusing everything on blocking the psionic torrent of energy.

Iosif dropped his mace and twisted so Chan and Carmelita were roughly on opposite sides, and he gestured with a free hand at Carmelita, who stumbled back as a small horizontal shield hit her, forcing her to retract her stinger. Iosif’s hand briefly contracted and expanded, and Carmelita was suddenly in the middle of four psionic shields, practically imprisoning her.

Keeping his focus on her, he jumped backward and repeated a similar gesture towards Chan who realized the danger. But he was too late and four similar shields appeared around him. Chan immediately raised a hand with psionic energy and pressed it against one of the shields, and Carmelita began testing their strength with her sword.

For now, at least, it looked pretty even. Even if Iosif currently had them in makeshift prisons, it wouldn’t last forever and neither of them were hurt. “Alright,” Iosif said. “We’ll call it a draw.”

He let his arms drop and the shields dissipated, he went to pick up his mace while Carmelita sheathed her sword and Chan ceased his psionic energy output. “Well, I guess neither of us win anything today,” Oliver said to Nuan. “Shame.”

“They’re getting better,” Nuan nodded. “Although Carmelita still falls for the mid-air block. That’s generally how he wins. She goes too fast and he knocks her out. Or he dazes her for a short time and forces Chan to concede with a little addition to the psionic prison.”

Oliver glanced over at her. “Which is?”

“He adds a covering shield that slowly lowers itself,” she explained. “Like a juice press, except with people at the bottom. I don’t know if it’s actually viable or just for intimidation, but he said it’s very difficult to pull that off. Aegis taught him that too.”

“He should try that with the Battlemaster,” Oliver suggested. “It might slow him down.”

“Or make him angry,” Nuan winced. “I’d rather he not be faced at all until we can beat him. Otherwise it’s a suicide mission.”

“Can’t disagree there,” Oliver said as the Templars returned to individual exercises. “But I think we’ll be able to beat him eventually.”

***

_Australia, Near Pippingarra_

Abby was honestly not sure what Harper or the Chronicler expected her to accomplish here. Her mission was to investigate Port Harland, a fairly large city, albeit not nearly on the level of Sydney. Still, losing it would hurt the hold the Collective had on the continent. But everything she had observed was that it was going to be impossible to liberate without a small army.

The Australian Resistance was not going to risk so much for what was honestly a temporary victory. She had observed Zararch snipers, Mutons, and Andromedons. They appeared to be using the population of Humans there to build…something. They were turning large portions of the city into what seemed to be factories of some kind.

Spaceports?

It wasn’t Gateways, because she had located three already deployed at various parts of the city, spread out enough that even if one was shut down, there would be at least another that could bring in reinforcements. So a straight attack was out of the question, and unless there was a significant amount of agents on hand, who somehow would manage to sabotage all Gateways at once, that still left the army problem.

The other alternative was the Chronicler deciding to take a more… _direct_ approach, but even she wasn’t sure he alone could beat an entire army. At least not without help. Well, she was supposed to meet one of Harper’s people to give a report. Unfortunate that it was going to be bad news.

Abby chewed a ration bar as the sun set. She’d gotten quite a lot of survival experience out of this whole operation, which she’d never really expected. Once the war was over, assuming she was still alive, she would have quite a few career paths available to her. Although it was unlikely that she would ever become a civilian again, she couldn’t go back to that kind of life after what she’d done and seen.

The bushes rustled and her pistol was immediately raised in the direction of the sound. She lowered it and scowled when she saw who it was. “What are _you_ doing here?” She asked the Chronicler, who casually walked over and sat on a nearby stump.

“Getting my report, of course,” he answered, lacing his fingers together. “I’ve had my eye on this place for a while, and having Harper send you out gave me a good reason to execute my plan here.”

Abby narrowed her eyes. “This whole thing was your idea.”

“Of course it was,” the Chronicler answered easily. “Harper, while having good intentions, will not win this without some nudging here and there. Attacking small cities will accomplish nothing, but the bigger ones? _Those_ will hurt the Collective.” He nodded in the direction of the city. “So, what do you think they’re building there?”

“They’re having the civilians connect, destroy, or renovate entire blocks,” Abby reported. “I couldn’t find out exactly for what, but it seems to be factories for either weapons, vehicles or spacecraft.”

“Spacecraft,” the Chronicler confirmed with a nod. “I’ve been able to confirm that from my alien operatives. The Collective wants to establish a presence on Earth beyond the Moon. Japan and Australia are the primary grounds for this. If they are allowed to continue, they’ll be fully operational in a matter of months, after which they will be that much harder to destroy.”

Abby bit her lower lip. “This might be a time where we call in XCOM or the Lancers for a strike. The Resistance doesn’t have the resources, and the aliens will beat any army sent. And even if one is successful, all that will accomplish is the aliens devoting more resources to protecting them.” She sighed, shaking her head. “They have three Gateways here. It would need to be an extremely coordinated attack, and we don’t have the manpower for it right now.”

“Mhmm,” the Chronicler mused. “Then I suppose we’ll have to improvise. Luckily, I have a plan for such an endeavor.” He lifted a hand, gesturing towards the brush and Abby froze as a half-dozen Vitakara, Vitakarians and Borelians, stepped out, fully armored and armed. Behind them she even saw two Andromedons.

“I have help for this,” the Chronicler smiled. “There is little point in having an army if I never use it.”

“And we are happy to help with this,” one of the helmeted Vitakarians said. “What the Chronicler has revealed to us has been _illuminating_.”

“You talk?” Maybe it was rude, but Abby was _not_ expecting the aliens to be more than drones to the Chronicler’s will.

“Of course,” the Vitakarian answered as if that were obvious.

 _Having an army that cannot think for itself is useless_ , the Chronicler’s voice said in her head. _It is not hard to ensure loyalty. It is a simple matter of changing how they think, what their motivations are, how they perceive the world. Direct mind control is a crude tool, and one that does not produce needed results. My army is loyal, but capable of independent thought, which is all I require._

 _How do they just follow you?_ Abby thought back. _Don’t they wonder why they follow a Human?_

 _I explained who I am,_ the Chronicler thought, almost smugly. _It puts things into perspective for them._

That just made Abby more confused. _Why do they care who you are?_

 _I’ll explain sometime soon,_ was all he thought. _But they are quite good company otherwise._

Speaking aloud, he said: “This is how we will disable the Gateways. Three teams, each who will await my signal, and then will act.”

“So that will take care of that problem,” Abby nodded slowly. “But we will still have the army to deal with. Not that I don’t doubt you could use your psionics to make them turn on each other, but this will get their attention, especially since they will wonder how the Resistance could take out a city on this scale. Aside from that, what about all the civilians?”

“We are not going to save the civilians,” the Chronicler said calmly, standing and clasping his hands behind his back. “This will be the first instance of a revolt. At the right time, every single Human will rise up against the aliens and begin fighting back. They outnumber the Collective significantly, and they will serve as an excellent reason for how such destruction could occur.”

Abby blinked. It was one thing to not let civilians affect the plan, it was one thing to kill innocent bystanders, but it seemed on another level to forcibly send many of them to their likely deaths. _And how is that different?_ The logical voice in her head said. _They will die either way, and this way at least they will serve a purpose._

She couldn’t deny that it likely would be a good cover for the actual means to destroy the city. An uprising would catch them off guard, and they might just assume this was a fluke to not be repeated. Yet they were civilians. They would be slaughtered, and she doubted the Chronicler would differentiate between the elderly and children.

He had to have known her thoughts on this, which was likely why he was being silent and staying out of her head.

“Why can’t you use your psionics on the aliens?” Abby asked.

“I could,” the Chronicler confirmed with a short nod. “But for one, Humans are easier, and revolt should be as authentic as possible. Assuming I simply took control of the aliens, then we now have the question of where to put all these people, and that would undoubtedly attract attention. Attention that would put the Resistance at risk, not to mention make them wonder how such an operation is possible.”

He shook his head. “No. This is necessary, as difficult as it may be to carry out.”

Abby wished she could simply dismiss the cloying feelings of guilt, loathing, resignation, and sorrow, but she kept finding herself unable to each time something happened that pushed her further down the path of no return.

_It’s not like you’re pulling the trigger here. He has the telepathy, not you._

She shook her head at that. That was a coward’s excuse to avoid taking responsibility. If she helped, she was endorsing this action. Yet he was right, the spacecraft factories would have to be destroyed, and if they didn’t do something, a worse decision would have to be made down the line.

The longer the war went on, the more difficult the decisions would get.

The more people would die.

She’d performed horrific acts and seen worse in the service of protecting Humanity. One more couldn’t damn her more than she already was.

The Chronicler smiled.

“Fine,” she stood up. “Let’s get started.”

***

_The Praesidium, Psionic Training Area_

Patricia gritted her teeth as she slammed into the padded wall. She quickly reoriented herself as Aegis kept advancing on her in his slow and methodical fashion. Despite this being the third time facing him today, she was still amazed at just how powerful he actually was, and how inadequate she was against him.

And he was holding back.

She’d seen him training the psions with defensive affinities. He could manipulate those shields to crush her like an insect as well as trap her in stasis while he compromised her mind. But no, he decided to ‘play fair’ and restrict himself to telepathic attacks and wielding his blunt, psionically manifested sword to throw her around. He even wasn’t using his telekinetics.

With a yell, she flared with psionic power, distorting the air around her, including her own vision as she assaulted the wall that was the mind of the Ethereal. But no matter how much she tried, there was no way to break it. It was like a crystalline sphere, without flaw or blemish, and everything simply slid off it like water.

Aegis gestured, his own bared arm encircled in psionic energy, and Patricia was suddenly assaulted with a barrage of sounds. Bells, shouts, noises she had no words for, all happening at once in her head. She shook her head, trying to block it out even as she felt Aegis begin to actually assault her own mind.

It was similar to being in quicksand. Or at least that was closest she could think of in her scattered thought process. Maybe being battered with waves repeatedly. A dam, that was the best description. Right now she was one that was cracking even as the sounds got louder and louder until she could finally hold no more and collapsed to the ground.

And even on the ground, the sounds in her head got louder and louder as her vision blurred and flickered. The Ethereal was in her head now, and she had no idea where he even was, let alone how to even begin to get him out. This own private hell of hers continued for hours, or maybe it was only a few minutes. Aegis had complete control of her and could have warped her perception of time easily.

But she was beaten, completely and utterly.

When light began leaking back into her eyes and everything faded to relative silence, she found herself on the ground of the training area, still in her armor and her throat raw. Had she been screaming? She wouldn’t have been surprised, given how awful all around she generally felt. She pushed herself up, and saw Aegis still standing above her, looking down upon her.

“You fucking done?” She growled, unlatching her helmet and letting it fall to the ground, feeling the cool air of the arena wash over her face.

“Any further and your mind would be gone,” Aegis said simply. “I believed that was sufficient.”

She scowled. “Thank you for being so considerate. But I think you forgot I’m _not_ a bloody Ethereal.”

“Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of that distinction,” Aegis said. “Or I should say, _you_ do not. The Battlemaster, despite his threat, is not who you should fear. Isomnum, Macula, or Quisilia would break your mind apart and laugh while doing so. What I demonstrated would be considered _merciful_ compared to what they can do. And I need not mention the Overmind or Imperator.”

Aegis’s tone turned unexpectedly colder. “Your telepathy, Patricia, is not impressive. You recently appear to have gotten the impression that the mind control of hundreds is a feat worthy of praise. For a new species learning their power, perhaps it is, but right now you have perhaps the skill of an Aegis in training; _not_ a full one, and certainly not the skill of an _Overmind_.”

Patricia’s shoulders slumped. Were she actually mentally functioning, she might have had a few words to say to him, but as it stood, she couldn’t think of anything, nor could she completely disagree with him. “Then what am I supposed to do?” She asked tiredly. “Nothing works against you. I’ve tried everything I can think of. You don’t _have_ any weaknesses.”

Aegis’s helmet nodded. “Why do you have to beat me psionically?”

Patricia gave him her best ‘ _are you kidding me?’_ look. “Read my mind if you want that idiotic question answered.”

“Apologies,” Aegis said. “I phrased that wrong. What I should ask is why you believe sheer power is the best way to defeat me, or any other psion?”

Patricia opened her mouth, then paused, actually thinking about it briefly. “It depends on the context, I suppose,” she said. “But against someone like you, there _is_ no other attack that will work as well. You don’t have any clear weaknesses, and on top of that, you’re more powerful that I am. Your Trask level is what, one-thirty?”

“One-thirty-eight,” Aegis corrected briefly. “But that doesn’t excuse your rather poor grasp of tactics. What you are doing right now is the equivalent of taking a hammer and tapping a wall to destroy it. It doesn’t work. So how would you solve that?”

“The easy way?” Patricia raised an eyebrow. “Plant explosives at the base, detonate, and watch the wall fall down. And get a better tool than a hammer.”

“Good enough,” Aegis agreed. “So why not do the same thing here?”

Aegis was fixating on this, so she tried to force her mind to think about how best to figure this out. Alright. So Aegis’s mind was a wall, one he was focused on defending. So, what would be the best thing to do? If assaulting the wall itself didn’t work, then the next step was to weaken it. In this case, everything relied on Aegis’s own focus.

Ah, there was an idea. Disrupt his focus.

Now what was a good means of accomplishing that? The ideal thing would be to send mind-controlled drones at him, maybe force him to defend himself. That would weaken him a little bit. Then there would be her own weapons, for all the good it would do her. But it could still help make an impact.

Hmm…

“What were you doing to me?” Patricia asked. “You overwhelmed my senses, even without taking control of my mind. You used that to distract me; disrupt my own focus on defenses.”

“Exactly,” Aegis said approvingly, and she realized that she was getting enough energy back to begin sensing people beyond the immediate area. “You are familiar with how a network denial of service attack works? This is much the same concept. If you cannot penetrate the mind of the target, overwhelm them with noise. Trap them inside their heads; break their concentration; force them to either focus on defense or continue with a weakened attack. Either can be exploited.”

He looked away from her. “Your power is immense for a Human, Patricia, but against an Ethereal, you cannot simply overpower them. Even weaker ones like Revelean or the Creator have centuries of training and experience. They know how to defeat those more powerful than them, and that is because they think tactically. That is what you need to learn. Brute strength will not serve you well in this fight.”

Patricia nodded. “I understand that. Thank you, Aegis.”

“I think that is sufficient for now,” Aegis dismissed, turning away from her. “Rest and recover, Patricia, return to your lover. The time for more training will come soon enough.”

Patricia wouldn’t really disagree with that. At the moment, she just wanted to sleep, cuddle, or otherwise enjoy a break before the gathering storm broke. The aliens were being very quiet, and that had everyone increasingly worried.

They were preparing for something, and after this, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

***

_Switzerland, ADVENT Command_

“They have been very quiet recently,” Saudia mused as she looked at the holomap of the current alien-controlled territory. “Pulling back after their victory seems… _odd_.”

“Not if you think about their goals,” Laura interrupted opposite her. “I think it’s clear now that they don’t just want to win this war, they want to win _completely_. In theory, they could attack wherever they pleased. But they won’t do that, because we still control the majority of land and could quickly outmaneuver them.”

“Their actions make sense,” Elizabeth agreed, tapping a pen absentmindedly on the edge of the holotable. “Everything I’ve gathered indicates they are fortifying what they _do_ have. They’re converting large swaths of Japan into factories, and I can only assume they’re doing the same in Australia too.”

“And in America?” Saudia asked.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Unknown. No factories or anything like that, but they are rotating out groups of soldiers. They’re fortifying their strongholds there. They are going to make themselves as hard to dislodge as possible.”

“Expected,” Laura nodded. “They have to know our counterattack is coming. But it is interesting that they haven’t done _anything_ , even if it’s not a full attack.”

“Speak for yourself,” Elizabeth muttered. “I’ve got to deal with a shitposting Ethereal every day and see if he’s revealing some secret alien strategy. I swear he’s intentionally trying to drive my agents insane.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Yes, following his twitter is a draining task for you I’m sure.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Elizabeth muttered good-naturedly. “Here, look at this.”

Saudia was now curious and walked over to Elizabeth who held up her tablet for both of them to see it. The tweet she had up was suitably and unrealistically happy.

 **Quisilia** @TheGreatQ – Oct 28, 2016

Save the date people! 10/31/2017 Big things are coming! Be prepared to hit that subscribe button! #OctoberSurprise #Halloween #suspense #hello #ADVENT #xcom #teaser #promo #capitalist #food #insinuation

Saudia smirked at that involuntarily, and that was before she saw the photo attached, which was a selfie of Quisilia with a white sheet over his helmet (which quite clearly didn’t look natural) and some crudely drawn eyes and mouth. She…thought he was trying (badly) to mimic a ghost. And of course he was holding up a hand with two fingers in the ‘peace’ slang sign.

Laura just looked confused. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly,” Elizabeth muttered, setting the tablet down. “He does this every week, gives a date and hypes it up, and _deliberately_ makes sure we know it there, and we have to spend time trying to figure out what he’s actually doing. He just might actually reveal some alien operation so we have to look into it.” She facepalmed. “So I don’t know if he’s opening up a fucking puppy shop on Halloween or teasing that Korea is going to be attacked.”

Saudia understood her concern, but it all seemed unreasonably funny. “Well, I suppose we could have Twitter ban him.”

“Not going to happen,” Elizabeth sighed. “One: Someday he’s probably actually going to give us something useful; Two: He’d just make another one, and three: He’s, ah, on the board of directors.”

Both women stared at her in disbelief. Saudia coughed. “Ah, _how_?”

“The short version is that he bought a ten percent stake in the company,” Elizabeth answered. “And yes, they _did_ let us know what was going on. I let them give him the position, since he might actually let something slip. Technically he’s an ‘honorary member’, but he’ll likely become a legitimate one whenever they have the next stockholder vote.”

“What the actual hell?” Laura said to no one in particular.

“It’s bizarre,” Elizabeth agreed. “And by all accounts, he’s actually being a contributing member. He joins as many board meetings as he can by video conference, all without any disguise, of course, and when he can’t be there, he has his ‘intern’ take his place. An Andromedon of all things. Very polite too.”

“I feel like I’ve entered some alternate dimension where things don’t make any logical sense,” Laura said flatly. “An Ethereal is on a board of directors of one of the largest social media platforms in the world and is actually helping them.”

“Welcome to the Quisiliasphere,” Elizabeth said wearily. “What I’ve labeled for anything relating to him where reason and expectation are thrown out, along with most of your sanity. _So_ ,” she turned back to Saudia. “Let’s return both to something actually important, and which follows logic to boot. Our counterattack.”

“Yes,” Saudia nodded. “Laura, Weekes, and the senior commanders will be meeting and coordinating with XCOM on November first. In the meantime, we’re using that time to gather our forces and create more plasma dissipators, Shieldbearers, and SHIVs for the attack. We won’t have anyone from the PRIEST Program yet, but we should have some preliminary soldiers by the end of November.”

“Everything is on schedule,” Laura confirmed to Elizabeth with a nod. “Seattle and Las Vegas are the main targets, as well as pushing beyond Portland. We won’t take California and most of Nevada back, but we hit their major strongholds and that’ll loosen their hold there.”

“The Battlemaster probably won’t stay out of it,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Or Caelior.”

Laura smiled, and Saudia joined her. “We actually have something that might deter the Battlemaster,” Laura said. “Caelior too, for that matter. Risky, but the chances of it working are above fifty percent. We keep the Ethereals away, we can win with XCOM support.”

“Well, I’ll press for more details at the meeting,” Elizabeth nodded, looking down at her tablet. “You, Chancellor, have a busy few days.”

“Yes, my big meeting at the Vatican,” Saudia remembered. “That will be interesting.” She smiled as she thought about how _that_ was going to go down.

“Considering what you’ve had me and Stein coordinate on the past few weeks, I’d imagine so,” Elizabeth smirked. “I mean sure, why not move against the most influential religion in the world? Joking aside, I want video.”

“Seems oddly timed,” Laura noted. “I mean, I can understand doing this normally, but it seems almost unimportant when the invasion is happening.”

“A few reasons,” Saudia said, tapping her fingers on the holotable. “This is more a Peacekeeping operation, not a military one, so the resources can be justified. Next, just because there is an alien invasion doesn’t mean we can’t multitask. In addition, having the Catholic Church on our side will be a large boost to recruitment and PR if they endorse ADVENT. And I want to get this out of the way before the Religious Summit. The Pope falls in line, everyone else will too.”

“I don’t think you understand how religion works,” Laura said skeptically. “They very likely might not endorse you because one, you aren’t religious, and two, their holy books might not allow it. Have you ever had a debate with a religious person before? They can be _stubborn_.”

Saudia sniffed. “In my experience, the leaders of these religions generally aren’t idiots, or suicidal fanatics. I don’t care about the regular believer, but their leaders can be swayed. If nothing else, they should realize that getting killed by aliens is not what their god would want.”

All Laura did was sigh. “Well, I wish you luck on that. I second Elizabeth. Take pictures.”

Elizabeth suddenly laughed. “Did you schedule this intentionally, Saudia?”

Saudia cocked her head. “Sorry?”

“You meet the Vatican on the thirty-first,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “The Reformation? The day when Luther rebelled against the Catholic Church?”

Laura snorted and Saudia smiled. “I wondered if they’d notice. I thought it was fitting. The world itself is reforming, and it is time for religion to join it.”

“I’d almost recommend against it since it’s completely insulting,” Elizabeth said humorously. “But I quite like the idea. Give the Pope my regards.”

“Don’t worry,” Saudia assured her. “I certainly will.”

***

_Busan ADVENT Base, South Korea_

“We’re getting an extra one?” Cara half-asked, half-noted as they walked toward their designated part of the barracks, sidestepping the other soldiers in their way. “Generous of them.”

“Apparently ADVENT didn’t put some of their squads together as well as they should have the first time,” Duri explained, as he also twisted to avoid some soldiers. Maybe he should have put his helmet on instead of holding it by his side. “The squads were either too small, or didn’t have a good composition. Like mostly soldiers and no medics, for example. Have you ever seen an XCOM squad?”

Cara shook her head. “Not in person.”

“Pretty much every single soldier fulfills a specific role,” Duri explained. “Sometimes there is some overlap, but in general one XCOM squad is diverse enough to handle almost every single situation. The problem ADVENT seems to have run into is some squads being extremely useful in some instances, and utterly terrible in others.”

“So they’re going for jack-of-all-trades squads,” Cara grunted. “Fair, I guess. I hope that this works out better for us.”

“Far as I’ve been told, there will still be exclusive Engineering and Medic teams,” Duri said as they turned a corner. “But, for example, squads like ours will get one of each.”

“So who _are_ we getting?” Cara asked.

“A Medic, Engineer, standard infantryman, and a Shieldbearer,” Duri listed off. “Apparently the Shieldbearers got an upgrade recently. They can supposedly deflect plasma.”

Cara’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Memo sent out to all officers,” Duri said, pulling out the printed memo. “And yes, it seems to be just as big a game changer as implied. I need to do some scenarios with it in action, but ADVENT is actually making stuff to help us. I’m sufficiently impressed.”

“I’m not surprised they’re trying to outthink the aliens,” Cara said, her voice slightly stunned at the implications. “But that they did it this _fast_. Really, how long was it since Japan? A few weeks?”

“They’ve probably been working on a project like this since the start,” Duri said. “It’s just taken until now to actually make something out of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got stuff that can kill Ethereals in one shot in the works. Now if they ever deploy them is another story.”

“Think they should try for the smaller stuff first,” Cara muttered, looking back forward. “Figure out how to kill the Warlock aliens before trying for Ethereals. Honestly, what could kill something that pretty much single-handedly beat us?”

“Nukes?” Duri suggested, shrugging in his armor. “Really, I don’t know. But they must be working on something like that. They’d be stupid not too.”

“Agreed,” Cara nodded. “Normally I’d make a joke about how government and intelligence are not something that can be combined, but that seems somewhat false now. Maybe ADVENT is the real deal this time.”

Duri smiled grimly. “Maybe. Shame it took the threat of extinction to get it started.”

He hit the door to the squad barracks and it slid open, and both of them entered where the new members of his team, with said team being re-designated as _Carolus Squad_. That seemed to imply that it was unique, and he was treating it like that until being told otherwise. Given how extensive not only the English language was, but every other language, it probably wouldn’t be too difficult for each squad to have their own unique designation.

It was better than _Squad 001_ or something like that.

The soldiers in the room immediately stood at attention. Half of them were wearing their armor, the other two were not. Didn’t matter to him right now, he’d shown up in armor because he felt it appropriate to make a good first impression, but they weren’t technically on-duty, so he wasn’t going to be stuck up about it.

“Good, everyone’s here,” he began, looking over his new soldiers. “I’m Captain Duri Eun-Jung, or just Duri. Our Sniper Beatriz is still recovering from injuries sustained in Japan, but she should be back with us in a few days,” he gestured to his side. “This is Cara, Gunner.”

“Don’t have my gun here, sadly,” she added. “But yeah, hi everyone. Looking forward to killing aliens with you all.”

Duri nodded to the man furthest to the left, a man with the black armor of a soldier. He looked fairly young compared to everyone else. “Soldier Mana Kalei,” he said, giving a salute with a fist over his heart. “Former American Navy, Hawaiian deployment. Since that division is pretty much gone, they sent me out here.”

Cara visibly winced. “I’m sorry.”

Duri wasn’t familiar with the details about how Hawaii fell, but he did know there had been a fairly intense battle before ADVENT was forced to give it up. Now that he’d stated where he was from, Duri could definitely tell Mana was an islander, likely a Hawaii native. All the short dossier had said was ‘American’. This would have been some information he would have liked to know beforehand.

“We’ll take it back eventually,” Mana said evenly. “But priorities. We’re all needed more here right now.”

“That we are,” Duri said. “Your turn.”

“Aleksandra Savelievna,” the tall Russian woman said, her accent making her sound harsher than he words implied. “Shieldbearer Mark Two, Deus Vult freed us to be deployed elsewhere. Awaiting your orders.”

She wasn’t wearing her armor, but Duri had seen Shieldbearer armor, and it was much bulkier and heavier than regular armor, so he could understand why she was only wearing her fatigues. “I’ve seen the reports,” he said. “Have you tested to see if the armor can do what Command says?”

She smiled, or more accurately, essentially bared her teeth. “The armor works to all simulations, Captain, but only way to know is fighting aliens.”

Since ADVENT didn’t have plasma weaponry, Duri supposed that was the best he was going to get. “Good enough for now. Next.”

“Nobuatsu Yoshitaka,” the Japanese man answered immediately, also in his armor. At thirty-seven, he was the oldest of the group, and had an overall serious demeanor. His expression was also suitably intense. “But Nobu will suffice. Medic. Served in both Battles of Japan. Well aware of their capabilities, and hope to prevent more situations similar to Sniper Beatriz.”

About time they got a Medic. “Glad to hear it,” Duri agreed. “Your skills would have come in handy then.”

“I’ve gotten quite good at shooting xenos in addition to field triage,” Nobu said evenly, the corners of his lips curling up. “Acquired skill, and one I’m quite proud of. I would not want to be a liability in the battle.”

“And we appreciate that,” Aleksandra added approvingly. “No one likes bystander. You Medics are notorious for this.”

“Considering these aliens have my country, I’ve been willing to put aside my distaste for combat,” Nobu said coldly, the same grim smile on his face. “Bullets are a kind of preventative medicine; if we wish to get technical.”

Some of them chuckled at that. “I like you,” Cara nodded. “Doubt you’ll beat my record, but I wish you luck.”

“Alright, last one,” Duri said, turning to the final man. He was wearing Engineer fatigues, with plenty of tools strapped to him, all well-organized. To his side was one of the new SHIVs. Duri had never actually seen one of them before, only read the reports. He’d thought they were much smaller, but the SHIV came up to mid-chest in armor.

It made him somewhat uncomfortable how dangerous it looked. “Miguel Capmany,” the man said with a nod and salute. “Former Mexican Army Engineer, now ADVENT Engineer. I also maintain our new SHIV, which will help us in killing the aliens.”

Duri raised an eyebrow. “It’s bigger than I thought.”

Miguel chuckled. “ADVENT’s not making little drones, Captain. They need machines to kill aliens, and this little guy can chew through a Muton, armor and all.”

Aleksandra sniffed. “I do not trust machine. Too unreliable.”

Miguel sighed. “This isn’t like the MDU. The intelligence isn’t as sophisticated.”

“And that is supposed to make me feel better?” She asked, deadpan.

“Have some faith,” Miguel chided. “I’ve looked at how this machine works. It doesn’t even go into a firing mode until we designate it. Even then, it only targets aliens, and even _then_ , only ones the controller tells it to.”

“I don’t suppose we get our own MDU as well?” Cara asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately not,” Duri said. “They want to save those for larger operations.”

“No Purifier either,” Mana chided at them. “I’m disappointed.”

“No offense to them,” Cara said flippantly. “But I’d honestly sleep better without tanks of liquid fire anywhere in the building.”

Duri smiled, and Miguel chuckled at that. He didn’t completely disagree with Cara here. ClF3 was something he didn’t want to get near, let alone have to deal with it on a daily basis. Well, didn’t seem like there would be many problems here. Everyone was here, willing, and wanting to kill aliens. “Alright everyone, we’ll begin exercises tomorrow morning. Given the alien’s track record, I don’t want us to be caught unprepared, and we know they can attack at anytime.”

“I agree,” Aleksandra stated. “Whenever the attack, we need to be ready.”

“In that case, we get some sleep,” Miguel said. “Been awhile since I’ve looked forward to training exercises, but given all the new tech we have…” he looked around. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it in action.”

***

_Australia, Port Hedland_

It might have just been her imagination, but the night itself seemed extremely ominous. The moon was obscured by clouds and a cool wind cut through her clothes, making her shiver involuntarily every so often. The plasma weapon one of the Chronicler’s Vitakara had given her was extremely cold to the touch.

The Chronicler was also wearing a special kind of armor that one of his aliens had brought him. His reason for not wearing it to begin with was because it was heavy and hot, though Abby suspected that he was not being entirely truthful. The armor itself was nothing like she had ever seen. It was a deep black, which reminded her more of a void than the color itself. The material it was made out of wasn’t standard alien alloys either, but some kind of porous stone that covered all his limbs and yet still allowed him to move freely.

The chest, legs, arms, and boots had another layer of this strange substance. There was some kind of strange text going down the sides of his chest armor, a language Abby had never seen before, not even from the Ethereals. On the chest was the simple outline of a galaxy, with some kind of strange…thing…above it. Something that reminded her of an outstretched hand.

It made her feel uncomfortable just looking at the armor, let alone the odd symbols on it. Whatever it was, it was _not_ Human, and the longer she spent around him, the more she wondered just who he _really_ was.

“Move forward to the Gateway positions,” the Chronicler ordered calmly to his alien subordinates who began moving wordlessly towards the city. “Await my signal.”

Abby frowned as they walked to the city. “Will they just be let in?”

A ghost of a smile made its way onto the Chronicler’s lips. “No, and that will have to be corrected. Wish me luck.” With that he placed the accompanying helmet on, a piece that was just as odd as the rest of the armor. It was a simple covering, with no visible additions, external feeds, eyeholes, or breathing apparatuses.

“Ah, now this is how it works,” Abby stared at the Chronicler as he raised a hand towards the city. His voice was not the same, it had a deep echo to it, as if two voices were speaking concurrently. It was _not_ the layering effect that she’d heard from other psions like Patricia. This was a completely different voice.

Much like the first time she’d helped him.

“Little reason to be alarmed, Agent Gertrude,” the Chronicler said as the air around him became visibly distorted. He spread his fingers and it seemed as though the entire city briefly blurred. “I am simply getting used to the armor.”

“What is it?” She asked, her voice much smaller as he lowered his hand.

“A gift,” the Chronicler said without a further explanation. “One I had hoped would never be needed, yet it appears my concerns were for naught. Let us continue, agent, we cannot be stopped now.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and began walking forward, and Abby uncomfortably followed, her plasma rifle at the ready. “What did you do?” She asked as they walked up the deserted road.

“Simply altered their memories to recognize my own subordinates,” he said as if it were nothing. “And the minds of the humans are primed. They will respond to my signal.”

Abby blinked. “You only took a few seconds!”

“The method isn’t important, Agent,” he said without looking to her. “Now be prepared, we are approaching now.”

The entrance was guarded by a half-dozen mutons, two Zararch snipers above and three Runianarch soldiers. They raised their weapons as Abby and the Chronicler approached. The leading Vitakarian yelled something, and the Chronicler simply gestured a hand forward and sent a crackling wave of energy towards them.

The wave didn’t just throw them back, it tore through them, and to Abby’s perspective, vaporized them into nothing. The Chronicler kept walking, putting his hand behind his back like he had the entire time. Abby was stunned. She’d never seen that kind of power from anyone, human or alien. “How did you _do_ that?” she demanded, wondering if she’d even need to fire a shot during this.

“The technique isn’t complicated,” was all he said. “It is a minor application of destructive psionics. It is rather small compared to the feats of the Ethereal Empire. The Reapers and the Division of the Maelstrom were far more impressive in their feats.”

Abby recalled that the Reapers were a group of Ethereals that…what did they do?

 _Destroy planets_.

Right. That.

So maybe vaporizing a small group of aliens wasn’t impressive in that context, but still…Whatever the Chronicler was doing here, he _had_ to be more useful in the actual war. Whatever he said, being stuck in Australia wasn’t where he belonged.

The Chronicler stopped at the checkpoint. “And now, let it begin.”

Nothing happened at first, but the air around her suddenly became more and more distorted, and she eventually realized it was coming from the Chronicler himself, who was almost indistinguishable in the distorted energy wave. The air itself had seemed to change as well, it was like her ears had just popped and everything seemed _different_.

Then the yells and shouts started. Few in the beginning, but they grew in size and intensity the longer they waited. Now there were Humans coming out into the street, soundless and yet with purpose. Without any words, they stripped the immediate area for weapons. There was little outside of steel beams and scraps of alien alloys, but they grabbed them all the same.

Men, women, elderly, children, all were under the Chronicler’s spell as they moved deeper into the city. It was also disconcerting that their eyes were tinged red. It was subtle, and only in what she saw as _flashes_ , but it was there. Much like the effect Patricia had on mind-controlled victims, except then the eyes were turned a shade of purple.

She hoped she was just seeing things, and given how surreal this experience was becoming, she wasn’t sure she could trust her sight.

“Let us continue,” the Chronicler said, marching forward, and she carefully followed. “The first conflict is up ahead. Intervene if you wish, it will not change the outcome of this battle.”

That sounded ominous. But even through her distorted vision she could follow the sounds of battle. There were shouts, grunts, and weapons fire up ahead, but as she listened closer, she realized that she’d been wrong earlier. Alien screams were not the same as Human ones; they were as a rule noticeably deeper and she hadn’t heard a single Human one yet.

She rounded a corner, breaking into a jog, and stepped into what was complete and utter carnage. Hundreds of Human and alien corpses littered what was a street leading into a town square. Humans were attacking the remaining forty or so aliens, mostly Mutons, and it was going as well as she’d expected. Volleys of plasma were taking them down, but there were groups of Humans stripping the alien corpses for grenades and other explosives, since the plasma weapons broke upon death.

But what was completely unnerving was that it was done in near silence. The Humans didn’t speak, not even when getting shot. Further still, they didn’t seem to feel pain like normal. The Mutons seemed to have initially made the mistake of thinking that, and turned their attention away after the first plasma volley had knocked down the first wave, and then they’d been surprised when they had stood once more, missing limbs or flesh melting, but just as determined to kill as before.

Even the Humans on the ground that were not dead were pulling themselves forward, makeshift weapons in their hands. The latest wave of Humans was employing tactics now, some were holding sheets of metal and constructing barricades, while others were lobbing grenades at the Mutons, and an explosion just then killed another.

The Chronicler had said it didn’t matter what she did here, whatever that meant, so she was going to help. She raised her plasma rifle and fired at one of the Mutons. Three plasma bolts shot out in quick succession, with surprisingly little recoil. It slammed into the head of the Muton, and they suddenly realized there was another threat to contend with.

The other Humans used that distraction as a way to launch a coordinated charge with the front shielded by metal sheets and behind them a dozen more Humans with sharp kitchen knives, broken broomsticks, shovels and other improvised weapons. Abby fired a few more volleys at the aliens, who quickly scrambled back into some kind of cover.

Then the charge hit the Muton flank and Abby was initially taken aback at the brutal savagery of the Humans, who immediately aimed or dove for the exposed heads, hitting them in the exposed flesh and stabbing their eyes out, and repeating it several times until they were sure the alien was dead before getting up to move on to the next one.

Most of them were killed before they could even kill a fourth, even as she took out another one. Not that it mattered much as none of the surviving Humans seemed demoralized or concerned their counterattack didn’t work. Abby saw they were already organizing another similar attack. She wished the Chronicler could stop his reality-warping effect, since the distortions were making it difficult for her to line up accurate shots.

She’d taken out another one when a purple maelstrom appeared in the final group of aliens and vaporized them. The surviving Humans wasted no time and began walking to other parts of the city to assist other assaulted areas. “The attack is going well,” the Chronicler said as he walked up to her. “The pockets of alien resistance are slowly but surely falling. Let us move to the factory itself. I expect your superiors will appreciate information on what the aliens are doing.”

“What did you do to them?” Abby asked, looking at the mass of bodies around her.

“Helped them,” was the answer. “Humans are fighters to a degree, but at times there needs to be a nudge in the right direction. Pain is useless to me, as is unneeded noise. They are extensions of my will, and know what needs to be done to achieve their objectives.”

Abby shivered. Even Patricia hadn’t gone to that degree to her knowledge. It was enough for her to turn their enemies against each other, but this seemed both a step above and beyond that. Sheer numbers shouldn’t have been enough to beat an entrenched alien army, but that appeared to be exactly what was happening.

“Have you ever wondered how the Sectoids once waged war?” The Chronicler mused suddenly as they walked. “Much like this. A skill they have fallen out of practice in, but nonetheless an effective one.” He gestured around. “These people are linked, a forced link, but one where they can coordinate to a degree that is impossible to be replicated through speech alone. That is how all of them are adapting, remaining calm, and strategizing without speaking. They are in a pseudo-hivemind, one under my own control.”

Abby didn’t add on to that. The concept alone was something she would hate to be subjected to. Humans weren’t supposed to be these soulless drones dying in waves against an enemy, even if they ultimately won. Smoke was in the air now, and she looked in the distance to see fires beginning to rise as the triumphant Humans began torching the city.

Given the lack of reinforcements, she supposed that the Gateways had been destroyed as the Chronicler promised. Now the factories were up ahead. They were right now ugly combinations of Human architecture and interconnected alien alloys. Some buildings were destroyed, others were in the process of being connected together.

She followed the Chronicler as he stepped into one of the larger ones, and found more bodies inside, along with dozens of Vitakara dead; probably surprise attacks from the Humans working here who’d suddenly turned on them. There were welding torches, drills, saws, all kinds of improvised weaponry.

They stepped into an open conveyor belt area, where half a dozen were set up, and where there was a lot of screaming in pain. Alien screams. And she soon saw why. The Humans were continuing to execute the aliens still alive here, mostly who looked to be overseer types with no armor. Two or three Humans held them back while another one executed the alien with the weapons they had available.

One was using a chainsaw to cut up one of the aliens, another was using a blowtorch to melt the skin off another, all of them seemed to be killing the aliens in as painful a way as possible. “Many of the people here have fantasized about what to subject the aliens to,” the Chronicler noted, sounding amused as they walked through the factory construction. “I see little wrong with letting them execute these aliens as they wish. Considering what they have been subjected to, it is only just.”

Abby wasn’t sure about that. Drawing out the death of an enemy seemed little more than sadistic. It was one thing if there was a goal, but for simple revenge? It seemed wrong.

Then again, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t do the same in their position.

They stopped in front of an alien console, and the Chronicler began manipulating a haptic pad and accessing the alien HUD which Abby couldn’t begin to comprehend. “This is the mainframe for their operations here,” he explained. “While they will undoubtedly be abandoned now, I suspect this will provide your superiors with some crucial information as to what their plans are for the region.”

A small cube ejected from the console, and the Chronicler gingerly picked it up, and handed it to her. She couldn’t tell under the helmet, but he was likely smiling. “Thank you, Agent Gertrude. Your participation here is appreciated.”

Abby just stared at him. “Maybe you can tell me exactly _what_ I did here? Or did you just want to show off?”

“You are ensuring that XCOM and ADVENT receive the benefits of my service, and allowing me to keep my anonymity,” he answered nonchalantly. “While I most certainly could do most of this without you, it would take longer and I would be forced to expose myself, and in these times, that is something I would not be able to use as an excuse not to intervene.”

That didn’t make much sense to Abby, but it was probably best she didn’t press the psion too much. Not now. It was very clear he had some ulterior motive besides just ‘helping XCOM out’, and the more she saw of what he could do…she was becoming scared at what that could be. “You may leave and report back,” he said, turning away. “Simply say you witnessed the revolt and took the opportunity to gather some information. By the time anyone returns, the aliens will undoubtedly be back in charge.”

She started. “I thought the goal was to destroy this place!”

“Originally, yes,” he shrugged. “But the plan has changed. When the aliens send their reinforcements, I will be waiting and turn them as I did the others. The factories will be burnt to the ground, and my forces will control whatever is built in their place. The end result is the same, Agent Gertrude, you do not want to press me further at this time.”

No, she certainly did not.

She quickly turned around, the alien data cube in-hand, and got out of there as fast as she could.

***

_Vatican City_

Saudia had always wanted to visit the Vatican. Aside from the history of the place, it was very much one of the most impressive locations in the world. Still, it was one area that would have been extremely difficult to actually visit in the EXALT era since the risk of exposure or compromise would be too great.

There was even more security around the building than usual, and Saudia had brought a small army with her of Peacekeepers with her for ‘security purposes’. A reasonable enough explanation and one the Vatican had permitted due to her status and importance in the world. It wasn’t every day that the most influential woman in the world came to meet the Pope.

Well, the Peacekeepers weren’t all she had with her. Even the regular Riot Control outnumbered the Vatican soldiers, although no aggressive moves were being exchanged. Her own Personal Guard accompanied her as they walked into the empty halls of the Vatican, along with Stein who was in full Peacekeeper armor, her helmet under her arm.

Saudia was simply wearing her standard black uniform with the red sash across her shoulder, and a pistol at her hip. While there were no weapons allowed at the Vatican normally, there were exceptions that had to be made, and the Pope wasn’t _that_ stubborn.

“I don’t suppose you’ve met him before?” Saudia said to make some conversation as they walked the ornate hallways.

“His Holiness Pope Marcellus the Third?” Stein asked sarcastically. “When the hell would _I_ have met him?”

Saudia smiled to herself. “Fair point. Was just curious. I’ve never had the pleasure, so this should be interesting.”

“Elizabeth put together a dossier,” Stein reminded her. “You might know him better than maybe anyone else at this point.”

The priest that was leading them forward suddenly stopped in front of a massive double door, and the two robed figures beside it opened it up to let them in. In the interior was a massive wooden table with ornate walls and chairs. The room itself had a domed top, which was painted with a scene Saudia didn’t recognize.

In the room were eight elderly men in black cassocks with red bands around their waists; Cardinals of the Vatican and all advisors to Pope Marcellus. In the center was the Pope himself, wearing his formal white choir robe with the white cap.

“Chancellor Saudia Vyandar of ADVENT,” the priest said as they entered the room. “His Holiness Marcellus the Third, Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the Vatican City State, Servant of the servants of God.”

She could practically envision Stein resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous number of titles the Pope had. Saudia found it a bit excessive as well, but knew that level of embellishment wasn’t used very often, so she treated it as something of an honor. Although she didn’t know how accurate that was.

She nodded to her guard and they waited outside. “If you would, Chancellor,” the Pope said, his voice soft. “I would prefer we conduct this meeting privately.”

Saudia could allow that. It wouldn’t change much. She was here to have a productive conversation after all. “As would I, your Holiness,” she nodded to Stein, who also nodded in acknowledgement and left. The Cardinals silently filed out of the room and Saudia walked over to the Pope, maneuvering a chair to sit opposite him.

“I appreciate you taking the opportunity to speak,” Saudia said as the Pope took a seat opposite her. The elderly man had an aura of calm around him, which she wasn’t surprised at given his position. He wore some spectacles, but otherwise was fairly ordinary outside the position itself. From what Elizabeth had been able to find, he was clear of any wrongdoing and seemed to more or less generally care about people under him and the common folk, as it were.

She didn’t have much inherent respect for religious leaders, but out of all of them, Pope Marcellus was one of the least offensive. She hoped this would translate to him being reasonable as well.

“For a woman in your position, I would think it foolish not to meet,” Pope Marcellus said. “You are one of the few who wield great influence in this world, and it would be irresponsible of me to not at least attempt to convince you to use it wisely.”

Saudia gave a small, humorless smile. “I do my best to both protect our species and maintain order. I am well aware of the responsibility of my position.”

“I cannot disagree with that,” the Pope agreed surprisingly. “You have your flaws, but we all do, and you seem committed to the people in a less traditional way.”

Saudia crossed her legs. “Crime and disorder should not be tolerated, Holiness. Being lax serves no one, nor does apathy and neutrality. While I don’t claim to be perfect, I believe it is time to hold our species to a higher standard. I believe you might understand this better than most. Sin deserves punishment, does it not?”

The Pope gave a similarly grim smile. “That it does, but the difference is that our sins can be atoned for and forgiven. There is no forgiveness under your administration, only punishment.”

“ _Justice_ , Holiness,” Saudia disagreed calmly. “Forgiveness should be reserved for the ones whose crimes have not ruined the lives of others. There is, I believe, a difference between a child disobeying his mother, and a man murdering a citizen. Would you truly believe these to be equally worthy of forgiveness?”

“All can be forgiven if they are repentant,” the Pope answered. “Yet I do agree that one is worthy of punishment and the other is not. But it is one thing to administer punishment, it is another to dehumanize them in the process.” He paused. “I can say little for this war with the aliens. I do not have answers for it, but I can look out for the people of this world. I can offer little that you would consider useful in military matters.”

Saudia sighed. “Punishment is supposed to be just that, Holiness, something unpleasant. I see little difference between our treatment of convicted criminals and the Hell you believe in. One is theoretically worse than the other.”

“Hell is only for the deserving,” the Pope shook his head. “Yet there are crimes of disproportionate magnitude you punish. I do not suggest to remove it entirely, that would be irresponsible, but perhaps use this opportunity to reform the convicted into something better. People can change, Chancellor, and this is true of even the murderers, rapists, and thieves you take delight in punishing.”

“Reformation, Holiness, is something I believe needs to be earned,” she stated flatly. “I am not as draconic as Stein, but I do not believe in reformation for all. Truthfully, the world would be better off without certain people in it. We do not abuse our prisoners, if they do their job, they will receive food and medical treatment. If they maintain good behavior throughout the entirety of their sentence, then they are released with a blank slate. Reformation is a result of reflection, and those in prison will either reflect on their crimes and come to the conclusion they need to change, or they will not.”

The Pope was silent for a few seconds. “I would ask that you at some point speak to those in your system, perhaps that is the only way to understand that not everyone is beyond redemption. I am curious, Chancellor, I have wanted to speak to you, but what reason would you have to speak to me? You are not, I believe, a religious woman.”

Saudia gave him another smile. “No, I am not. But the Catholic Church is the largest unified religious body in the world, and I would prefer we meet before the religious summit itself. Many countries in ADVENT have Catholic populations, and if ADVENT had the support of the Vatican, it would be a substantial boon to both morale, and to reassure the population that we are not the villains we are sometimes portrayed as. The Catholic Church has been largely quiet in regards to ADVENT, so I would ask you, where does the Church stand?”

“ADVENT, as it stands, is flawed, but not what anyone would consider _evil_ ,” the Pope said after a minute of thought. “Your intentions are noble, you try and care for your citizens, you provide for the poor. You are committed to Humanity, but only a Humanity you believe to be superior. ADVENT is prideful, it is vicious to its enemies, it will be harsh when given the chance to show empathy, it will use violence to solve problems instead of diplomacy. And I am certain you believe that you are doing the right thing.”

“Without a doubt,” Saudia nodded. “Holiness, Humanity has to change. We have been plagued with division, corruption, and worse through these past decades. Your Church is not immune to it. It reached the point where democracies no longer represented the wills of the people; justice depended on money and skin color; power was seen as the end goal for government; countries stood by as thousands were killed in the name of radical ideology.”

She shook her head. “There will never be an organization that is perfect, but ADVENT is the best that has existed so far. Our leaders are intelligent; we are not subjected to fanatical ideologies; we punish crime justly; money does not control us; and influence and status is only a footnote. _No one_ is immune to our reach, Holiness, and unlike the United Nations of old, we do not simply stand by as injustice and death happens in the world. We _act_.”

“No one can deny your proactivity, Chancellor,” the Pope agreed. “Yet you seek to impose your rule over every other one. Can you be so certain you are correct?”

Saudia eyed him evenly. “With the information I know right now? Yes, I can say that ADVENT is correct. Not all ideas, ideologies, and religions are equal, and they should not be treated as such. The days of entertaining the Nazis, anarchists, dictators, slavers, and racists in the name of ‘tolerance’ or ‘free speech’ are over. I do not apologize for this, and I suspect you will not be able to refute me without resorting to moralistic arguments.”

“I do not know you, Chancellor, but may I ask you a question?” He asked evenly in return. At her nod he continued. “You are a practical woman, that is evident, but I am curious by what your measure of humanity is. Our morality is how we know right from wrong; empathy, kindness, and love are parts of what makes us Human. Our ability to _care_. Chancellor, do you care about, or love someone?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “And I actually agree to an extent. Our morality is how we know murder is wrong. It is something that separates us from an alien race like the Sectoids. But morality must also adapt as Humanity does. And morality, I would add, is highly subjective. Highly reliant on religion too I would add.” She paused briefly. “Empathy, kindness, love, there are places for these emotions, but they are no more or less valid than other emotions we experience. Anger, pain, hope, we should not be continuously subject to them, because emotions make us _unreliable_. Emotion rarely leads to sound results, I have found, and that must change within us as well.”

She laced her fingers together and leaned back into her chair. “Logic over emotion, justice over mercy, practicality over empathy, victory over restraint. These must happen if we, as a species, are to truly become something great and united, not to mention if we want to merely _survive_.”

Saudia leaned forward. “I do not need the Catholic Church to agree with me, I do not need you to like me, but I would like to ask a question of you as well: Do you believe that the aliens are a threat, and that they can be beaten without us?”

“The aliens have shown a desire to kill or enslave us,” he said simply. “I am not blind. We did not start this conflict, and I would never suggest that we simply give up. I do not know if you are our only hope, but at this point there is no one else.”

Saudia nodded. “Without ADVENT, the Catholic Church will be destroyed. I don’t know the aliens’ policy towards religions, but I doubt you would survive, or if you did, the result would be a twisted version of the religion you believe in.”

“And so that is your main argument,” the Pope seemed amused. “‘We are standing between you and death, therefore you should support us.’”

“You could calm the populations of those who are apprehensive,” Saudia said. “You could play an important role in this war. I am not asking you to call a Crusade, but simply say that in light of the alien invasion, and visiting ADVENT countries, you will give the support of the Church.”

The Pope laced his fingers together. “Even if I were to do that, you do understand that this is not a unilateral decision. While I speak for the Church, I do not make decisions of this scale alone.”

Saudia rapped her fingers absentmindedly on the arm of the chair, wondering just how much to tell him. “And what is the current mood of them toward ADVENT?”

He cocked his head. “Some support you, many do not. They feel you are too extreme, and a threat to the Catholic Church.”

“Cardinals Francis, Medina, and Piacenza?” Saudia asked evenly. “I don’t suppose they are ones who have issues with ADVENT?”

He blinked in surprise. “I am curious, Chancellor, how would you know that? I suppose it would not be beyond you to place spies at the Vatican.”

She had a choice here. Let things play out like planned, or let the Pope in on what was going to happen. It depended on if he could be trusted, and despite his conflicting views, he did seem to genuinely believe what he said. Which meant she would want him as an ally here. “Not so complicated as that,” she said. “Holiness, do you know why I brought Stein with me?”

“To perhaps put us on guard, or intimidate us?” He answered wryly. “If that was the goal, it failed. Neither I, nor my Cardinals, succumb to intimidation easily.”

“No, Holiness,” Saudia said. “It is because at the end of our meeting, the SSR will storm the Vatican and arrest the following list of people.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a copy of the warrant Stein had. “You are, of course, aware that there have been cases of sexual abuse by priests.”

The Pope stiffened. “Yes, of course. And I have made strides to make sure-“

“To put it bluntly, you failed,” Saudia interrupted, handing him the warrant. “You are not under suspicion, my Director of Intelligence personally cleared you. However, that is not the case for your advisors. We have started at the churches, and gone up from there. This is a systemic problem in the church that has been covered up for decades, and today will be the day this rot is removed from the world.”

As the Pope read the names, she continued. “Your Cardinals are thankfully not pedophiles, but they are arguably worse. They have helped cover up the cases that were reported, and they have also been responsible for monetary fraud and laundering. The paper trail and string of witnesses led us here. It took surprisingly little time to determine the culprits. Catholics are poor criminals, it seems.”

“And you are suggesting that their opposition to ADVENT is because of their crimes?” he said, his voice bordering on furious.

“It is certainly a part,” Saudia nodded. “I had never met you before today, so I was not sure how you would respond. We have our differences, but I believe you can be trusted. The image of the Church has suffered because of men like this, and you will not be able to change it without effort and pain. You were falsely lulled into believing this problem was close to being solved, and now you see you were wrong.”

He gave a single nod. “It is clear to me now.”

“We both have different views on punishment,” Saudia said. “But we can both agree that men like this deserve to be found and removed. ADVENT can help with this. We can give you the means to truly reform the Catholic Church into what you want it to be. We do not care about position, influence, or money. Justice will be served, and despite our differing ideologies, we are willing to do it.”

The Pope handed her back the warrant. “I do not suppose you have fully exposed the disgraces of the Church?”

“Not everywhere,” Saudia shook her head. “Not even in all ADVENT states. We cannot and will not start investigations in foreign nations, but we can follow evidence that leads to there.”

“And you were planning to do this without mentioning it to me, unless I passed your test of trust,” he said slowly.

Saudia gave a nod. “As I said, Holiness, we do not stand by when injustice is prevalent. If you had been implicated, you would be marched before the courts now. We do not care who you are, we only care about bringing justice to those who deserve it.”

He stared at her for a few moments, and seemed to come to a decision. “You have commitment, Chancellor, and more courage than I have seen in a leader in a very long while. I will need to consider what to do next, but after I make some changes to my advisors,” he pursed his lips. “You may start with arresting the criminals who have perverted this holy place.”

They stood and the Pope tapped a button on his wrist, and a few moments later some of the guards came in. He talked with them for a few moments, they nodded, and then left. “Do what you must,” he said, taking his place at the head of the table, Saudia beside him. A few minutes later the doors opened and the Cardinals, together with Stein walked in. That was the cue.

Saudia gave her a brief smile, and Stein returned it, ice in her eyes as she took her place opposite them. The Cardinals moved to their places. “Your Holiness, was your meeting productive?” Cardinal Francis asked, looking confused as he saw Saudia still standing.

“Indeed it was,” he answered, without looking over. “Chancellor Vyandar has reached an agreement with me.”

“Truly?” Cardinal Daniels, likely the youngest Cardinal in the room, said.

“Yes,” the Pope said, looking around at the small audience. “The Chancellor has exposed to me that the filth that permeates the Church is still alive and well, and worse, hidden by ones I considered friends and brothers.”

“Your Holiness,” Cardinal Medina said nervously, now eyeing Stein with obvious fear. “Please do not jump to any hasty conclusions. It is not beyond ADVENT to simply lie to achieve what they want!”

“How fortunate then that we don’t lie,” Stein said smugly, pulling out a thick file from a bag she must have received while Saudia and the Pope were having their conversation. “Please, _Cardinal_ , read this and tell me if we are lying. She placed it on the smooth table and pushed it to them. No one moved to pick it up.

“Father,” Cardinal Farina said quietly. “What is going on-ah!”

All of them gasped as a dozen SSR agents stormed into the room, rifles bared and in full armor. Saudia smiled at their entrance. The SSR were the absolute _last_ people you wanted to meet if you were a criminal. Their armor was similar to that of the Shieldbearers, and were specifically designed for armed hostile encounters. Their faceplates of their helmets were slanted in a downwards _V_ , and the rest had been inspired by the Shieldbearer ones as well. Their armor was pure black, and they didn’t speak except through internal comms.

They only acted.

“Cardinals Francis, Medina, and Piacenza, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice, witness intimidation, money laundering, and failure to report criminal activity,” Stein declared as the SSR began roughly grabbing the gasping Cardinals that were named, tightening cuffs around their wrists and ankles. Perhaps a bit extreme, but it was standard procedure for any arrests done by the SSR to cuff them in multiple places.

“You will be tried, sentenced, and convicted under ADVENT law,” Stein continued, a satisfied smile on her face. “You will provide us with any additional information relating to crimes within the Roman Catholic Church and elsewhere. Failure to cooperate or perjury will result in an extension of your sentence. May God be with you, because we will have no mercy and you will be punished like the vermin you are.” She motioned to the SSR. “Take them away, put them with the rest.”

Without another word the SSR agents slung the protesting Cardinals over their shoulders and began marching out, leaving the rest of them alone, and the ones who were not expecting it, stunned. “Thank you for your cooperation, Holiness,” Stein told the Pope, inclining her head. “ADVENT appreciates it.”

“It was needed,” the Pope admitted. “I was not aware this had still festered. Understand this,” he looked around at the remaining Cardinals. “As of today this will no longer be tolerated, and it will not simply be swept aside in the name of greater concerns. ADVENT has promised to help us rid the Church of these abusers, and I will be certain they are allowed to work.” He nodded at Saudia. “You are right about one thing. We must change, and this includes the Church. And change must start from the top.”

Saudia smiled. “I could not agree more.”

***

_Undisclosed Location, United States of America_

Saudia was rather happy with how that had turned out, so much so that she wasn’t miffed at Dr. Kettani calling her in to discuss something that apparently had to be in person. She knew he was beginning his recruitment efforts, and she hadn’t expected anything beyond updates for a while. So for him to contact her either meant that something was wrong, or there was a development so serious he needed her to review it.

She walked down to what were the acclimation rooms, where there were already some people waiting inside. They were white rooms that the potential psions waited in before being awakened, or at least that was their intended function. They were more or less glorified waiting rooms, while the doctors made the last-minute preparations.

Kettani was roughly two-thirds down the current hallway, with a few more doctors beside him, all muttering amongst themselves. “Doctor,” she greeted, walking up. “What was so urgent that you needed me here?”

“Ah, Chancellor,” he said, immediately turning to her. “Thank you for coming so quickly. To summarize quickly, we’ve hit something of an…unexpected development.”

Saudia sighed. “Elaborate?”

“Do you remember how I said we probably wouldn’t be able to find many psions of similar power to Patricia?” He asked, clearing his throat. “Well…we did find one. A ninety-three on the Trask Scale.”

Saudia blinked. “You’re certain?”

“We triple checked,” Kettani assured her, handing a tablet with graphs and charts on it. “At some point we expected one like him, but not _immediately_. Normally, I wouldn’t bother you, but something this powerful will be a little harder to keep a hold of. Imagine Patricia, but potentially _more_ powerful.”

Saudia nodded. “What do we know of him? He had to have passed the psychological tests.”

“That’s the thing,” Kettani shook his head. “He seems completely fine. Normal. Lukas Von Theil, German Chemistry teacher, no criminal record, no military service, has a habit of posting in science forums online, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. Has an interest in alien technology, which was a reason he gave for expressing interest.”

Normal. Well, that wasn’t a word she’d really used in a while. _Normal_ was definitely strange right now, but she supposed that was just how it worked sometimes. Completely ordinary people were elevated beyond what they could have expected. “I asked Elizabeth to put together a profile on him,” Kettani said as they moved towards the window. “Also as innocent as you’d expect.”

In the center, sitting calmly on the cushy chair was Lukas Von Theil, who didn’t immediately strike her as _normal_. Just from his posture she could tell he was a very controlled and deliberate person, and his speech was likely the same. He had a buzz cut with his light brown hair barely standing out on his pale skin.

“Intermittent relationships with various women,” Kettani continued. “Nothing malicious, but everything seems to indicate he almost grows bored of them and breaks up with them when they aren’t what he considers interesting.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow at that. “Odd.”

“He has very high student reviews too,” Kettani said. “He is, and I quote ‘Very laid back’, ‘Actually tells us interesting stuff’, and ‘Anyone who uses fire is cool in my book’. The last one, I believe references an incident where Von Theil was almost kicked out for performing what was designated ‘unsafe experiments’. When asked for his defense, the answer was, ‘Because students aren’t interested in a damn baking soda volcano. They want something to remember.’”

“Fun guy,” Saudia commented. “Anything else interesting?”

“His online profile is ‘Geist’,” Kettani said. “Mostly restricts himself to scientific forums that I mentioned earlier. Search history is mostly benign, chemical formulas, subjects, and he has also been following the war closely.” Kettani paused. “What else? No stated religious beliefs or political affiliation, no social media, keeps the very few relationships he has purely professional. He appears to be a loner through and through.”

“So he seems to be clean, if somewhat odd,” Saudia said. “Why do you need me?”

“Because something about him is just _off_ ,” Kettani scowled. “It’s not just me either, everyone else who speaks to him is the same way. Even the psion I had question him to determine without any doubt how trustworthy he was said she felt uncomfortable performing the examinations. She described it being like he knew she was going through his head, and like she was being watched inside it.”

He shook his head. “Again, if this were anyone else, I’d just go ahead and do it. But considering the ramifications, I don’t want to awaken a ninety-three power psion without explicit approval when things are like this.”

Saudia thought for a moment. “Let me talk to him.”

“Be my guest,” Kettani said as he unlocked the door, and she stepped in. Lukas looked up as she walked in. He didn’t get up, instead looking at her with unblinking grey eyes. His expression hadn’t changed a bit as he looked her over. Already she felt what Kettani had described in how something seemed _off_ about him. It was like she was being visibly dissected, which was _not_ a feeling she was used too.

“Chancellor Saudia Vyandar,” he said, his voice not what she was expecting. It was sort of what she was used to, but he rolled and accented his _a_ ’s, making it sound like he was drawing out parts of her name. “I did not expect you to take an interest in me.”

“How much has Dr. Kettani told you?” She asked.

“Oh, very little, but I was able to deduce enough,” he said dismissively. “You would only go through all these hoops because _I_ would be considered a possible _threat_ to your precious ADVENT.” He gave an eerie smile. “I assure you, Chancellor, I have _no_ intention of breaking the terms of our _agreement_. You wish control, you have it, I only wish to awaken this gift inside me now.”

Saudia kept her expression blank. Yes, this person was not _normal_ , no matter what Kettani said. “And why exactly did you contact the PRIEST Program?” She asked. “You understand the conditions.”

“Psionics has fascinated me since I first heard of it,” he said wistfully. “Ever since I have wanted to master the secrets of this existential and mysterious _gift_. Your PRIEST Program was the perfect avenue, and I appear to have reached the final stage. All I suppose remains is your _approval_. You would not meet with someone of minor power, Chancellor, so I know that I am already useful to you. I have no fear you will abuse the bomb in my head, because as of now, I am too useful for you to kill in a childish fit of rage or fear.”

Saudia’s lips curled up. “You seem awfully sure of that. You don’t know me.”

“I know that you are a woman of _practicality_ ,” Lukas said with no trace of doubt. “You do not _tolerate_ those whose inhibitions prevent excellence. You do not hesitate when making decisions, you _act_. I am good at reading people, Chancellor, and if I did not believe you are who I think you are, we would not be speaking now.”

“And just who do you think I am?” She asked.

“Someone who wants to bring humanity under her control,” he stated calmly. “Someone who has a past they do not want questioned, and someone who will stop at nothing to destroy the _aliens_ and the plans they have for our species. I do not _care_ where you came from Chancellor, I suspect I will learn that in good time, but my place in this world has been one of little import by design. I know my strengths and limitations, and I intentionally placed myself where _I_ would have the most impact. Those parameters have changed. _Here_ is where my impact will be the greatest, and you will help me _achieve_ that.”

This man reminded her of the Commander in his reading of her and complete assurance. It was discomforting how certain he seemed, like he _knew_ what was going to happen. From his perspective it sounded like he was simply using her to achieve ‘his place’, or get wherever he had the most ‘impact’ which could mean a number of things. He didn’t strike her as an altruist, but if his intent had been otherwise, she would have been told.

Still, he had passed every test, and if a psion had gone through his mind and there was nothing…there was no reason to deny his awakening. Not that there had really been a question of throwing away someone who was a ninety-three on the Trask scale. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t a telepath.

Someone like that with telepathy was concerning indeed, bomb in the head or no.

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Saudia said. “Your awakening will begin shortly, Mr. Von Theil.”

“Geist,” he interrupted. “I would prefer to be referred to as Geist from now on. I never much cared for my name, and now is as good a time as any to change it.”

Saudia shrugged. An odd request, but she didn’t particularly care about this one. “As you wish…Geist.” Kettani would have to update paperwork, but that wouldn’t be too much trouble. She stepped out and closed the door before turning to Kettani.

“There is something strange about him,” she said. “But there is no factual basis to not use him. Put him in the pod. With that said…” she paused. “Have another bomb implanted in his chest. I think we would both feel better if we are not relying on one contingency.”

“Yes, Chancellor.”

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room_

And here they were back again.

It didn’t seem that long since the Commander had been here during the first attack on the United States, and this would definitely not be the last. Saudia had been busy too, first with receiving reports of the newest tactics and technological advances ADVENT had made, some of them XCOM hadn’t anticipated. Then she had gone on to purge the Catholic Church of the degenerates in it, and otherwise demonstrate ADVENT’s reach and intent.

Good for her. This was what ADVENT should be doing. Enforcing the law, wherever it was established, borders be damned.

And now they were all preparing to perform one of the most significant counter-attack operations of the war. One he felt the aliens would be unprepared for. “Let us begin,” he said, and the holotable came up showing the West Coast. “Commander Christiaens, you can start.”

“Very well,” Laura first pointed at the top of the map. “There will be several objectives in this operation. We have to be very careful not to overextend otherwise the aliens will exploit that. If possible, we need to take the northwest completely, which amounts to Washington State and Oregon.”

“This means Seattle is taken and Portland is completely secured,” Weekes clarified. “From there, the Navy can reinforce the coasts and we can immediately begin establishing proper bases to corner the southwest.”

“At the same time, we take back the major Nevada bases and cities,” Laura continued, pointing for reference. “Las Vegas is destroyed, but the aliens have been making the remains and nearby bases into strongholds of their own. Should they be allowed to finish, it will severely hinder any further military operations.”

“So is that the priority?” The Commander asked, looking up at her. “I need to know where best to deploy my own soldiers.”

“Negative,” Laura shook her head. “Las Vegas would be an excellent bonus, but the bulk of our forces should focus on securing the northwest. Seattle and Portland for sure.”

The Commander nodded at Patricia. “Noted, we’ll have our best there.”

“We _will_ still conduct a large attack on the Las Vegas area,” Laura reminded him. “But it’ll be a much harder fight, both since the aliens are entrenched and the conditions are not favorable. But I believe it is possible to take.”

“I can assign some additional psions to help,” the Commander nodded, scratching his chin. “Our concern is not the aliens themselves, but if the Ethereals interfere. That will be the deciding factor.”

“America has been the Battlemaster’s theater,” Weekes said with a grim smile. “So we spook him. We fake a nuclear launch and chase him off. He won’t risk getting killed by a bomb.”

“Viable,” the Commander nodded, thinking. “Assuming he doesn’t come back immediately.”

“We’ll be watching for his transport,” Weekes said. “It’s an Overseer-class, and I believe we can take that out with enough Ravens. If we chase him into space, I’ll consider that a win.”

“And if he calls our bluff…” Laura shrugged. “We have Purifier teams for each operation. They’ll be held back in reserve unless he’s seen. All we need is to clip him and the chemical will do the rest. MDUs will also provide assistance if needed. It will be interesting to see if the Battlemaster is faster than a computer.”

Considering what he knew of the Battlemaster, the Commander was skeptical that _any_ of that would actually work, but it was much better than nothing. They had plans for the Battlemaster, and if Caelior showed up…they could use the nuclear spoof. It might work once, but not for very long. “There is some news from Australia,” the Commander updated them. “Apparently the aliens are having some trouble keeping the populations in check. One city revolted and took out what appears to have been a spacecraft construction factory.”

He held up a USB drive. “And we also know why they’ve been quiet for so long. It’s like we suspected, they want to fortify the areas they _do_ have. And they also want to purge the resistance elements from their controlled areas. That is currently having mixed results, but it’s buying us some time before their next attack.”

“Anything about Korea or China?” Laura asked.

“No,” the Commander shook his head. “Strictly related to the Oceanic nations. But we strike soon, and we delay them even longer. The Battlemaster does not seem to want to run a multi-front attack unless it is a diversion, so we can use that to our advantage. Let us keep him in the American theater for now.”

“That’s the plan,” Laura said. “A victory here would be a much-needed morale boost after the string of defeats. Considering what we have now…it can be done.”

The Commander smiled. “It certainly can. Now we just have to make sure not to screw it up.”


	22. Subversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Research and Engineering VIII coming next (Bunch of XCOM files on the Sectoids should be coming soon too), and then there will be an actual battle. Been a while since there was one of those, but it'll be worth it, and then it will ramp up from there. Anyway, on an unrelated note, if anyone knows of any good artists, I'm thinking about commissioning some for the major characters/events written so far. Depending if I find a good one of course, which is why I'm asking around in addition to doing my own research. The more photorealism, the better, not interested in more cartoonish drawings.
> 
> So thanks in advance, and for reading as well!

 

_Blacksite 009 – ID: “The Prism” – Overseer: The Battlemaster_

The Battlemaster thrust out his hand and an entire squad of ADVENT soldiers went flying into the air. He immediately transitioned with his sword hand into a slash that killed an Officer and Gunner. Gauss slugs were screaming through the air at such a high rate and velocity that it was actually beginning to slow him down.

A problem.

He dashed a short distance until he was back on the rocky shore of the city beach. He raised a hand and the air directly in front of him rippled, catching the gauss slugs shot his way while he observed his current situation.

The extended beachhead was covered in at least several thousand soldiers, a result of what happened when ADVENT decided to send overwhelming numbers at him. Not that it was helping, and he was now convinced that it was just to buy time until the bigger guns were sent his way. Theoretically, they would be distracted by several other attacks, but maybe that wasn’t the case here.

Normally, he would have moved further into the city at this point, but he knew there were Purifiers in the army, and that would make it significantly harder for him if he was caught even in just an alley or street. Then there were the MDUs, which would be inherently harder to kill, especially in larger numbers.

It was actually nice to consider an opponent a threat for once.

Ah, there they were.

The MDUs charged out, along with a few hundred more ADVENT squads. The Officers were shouting and yelling at their subordinates to get into position, and the Engineers were using the bodies to form makeshift barricades, sealing them in place with Symbiote dispensers. The Battlemaster spent a few more seconds looking over the composition.

He couldn’t stay here forever, but once he charged in again, he would be committed and vulnerable. There was the additional risk of an XCOM squad showing up, but if they had been interested in fighting him, they would have likely come by now. How many were supposed to be here? A minimum of ten thousand, so he still had a long way to go, provided they didn’t retreat.

The lasers were starting to hit him, and even if they just sparked off his armor, sustained blasts would weaken its integrity. Luckily, he knew how to disrupt computer processors. The soldiers could be ignored for the moment, the MDUs were the primary threat. He executed several dashes in quick succession, all zig-zag patterns, until he was close enough to one of the machines. He lifted one up telekinetically, crushed it, and threw the scrap metal towards another one, and at the same time telekinetically grabbed a squad of soldiers around him with another hand, throwing it at another MDU.

With two temporarily taken care of, he stabbed forward at another MDU, through its center, where he knew the actual processor core was. ADVENT’s engineers had been clever, using the head as a decoy that didn’t actually control the machine. It was an easy target, but _too_ easy, and he’d been fooled exactly once when he’d decapitated one and it had still kept attacking him.

So he didn’t do that anymore.

He threw his sword towards another MDU, accelerating it to a speed that would penetrate a Sectopod, while extending his left hands towards another group of MDUs, twisting them and forcing their arms to crumple and ruin their weapons, which exploded in their hands. Unfortunately it didn’t kill them, and they charged his position, still looking to beat him to death.

He was hoping they would try that.

He sent out a telekinetic wave which blew back any ADVENT soldiers near him and took the initiative by charging the machines himself. For most this would be suicide, but he was still taller than the MDUs by a significant margin. If anything, they were the only opponents ADVENT and XCOM had that were a reasonable size to face him.

One punch almost punctured the armor of one completely, while he grabbed another by the head and squeezed, crushing whatever was in there, then forcing his hand down into the more delicate systems. That one taken care of. He kicked another, sending it flying back and grabbing the damaged one, quickly twisting the limbs off, leaving the machine in pieces.

He extended a hand to where his sword was, and it flew into his hand, slick with oil and blood. More MDUs were coming forward, and soldiers were running away in terror to better positions, and he turned to face them, until he glimpsed the orange armor of a Purifier. He didn’t even waste a second to clarify, but charged _away_ , which in this case was to the right, unfortunately away from the water, which even if it wouldn’t protect him, gave him a lot more room to maneuver.

Just in time, as the Purifier’s flamethrower turned the immediate area he was in to a chemical inferno, killing several of their own soldiers. The Battlemaster quickly assessed if there were any more, and at the moment there were only three.

This was a problem.

One he could deal with. Two were dangerous. Three were deadly. The range of their weapons was extensive, he couldn’t just charge up and slash them without risking them blowing up, and getting close enough to perform telekinesis would take a minimum of a half second, which could allow the remaining ones to easily cover his immediate area.

He dashed again as they began shooting the white-orange chemical at him, and the other two were spraying the places he was being led towards. A clear trap, but one he couldn’t escape easily, since he couldn’t even let those flames _touch_ him because even if he wasn’t in immediate danger, it _would_ burn him, and Revelean had tested it enough to know it couldn’t be put out by anything they currently had.

Jumping over it was also risky, though not to the extent where it was a high chance of him becoming wounded. The problem was that he was also a big target, and again, there was _no way_ to put out the flame. He was going to have to solve this issue soon, so he might as well take a risk. Instead of continuously dodging to the sides, he charged forward and performed a slash of a precision he hadn’t attempted in years.

And it was _almost_ good enough. His intent had been to carefully sever the head of the Purifier, and he _had_ , but had also clipped the tank. He immediately thrust out a hand sending the body flying backwards, while another hand shot out at the nearby Purifier also throwing him back. The decapitated one exploded, and the third one fired, and had started to fire as soon as he killed the first one.

He charged out of the way, but this time was too slow. Both of his arms were currently being burned, and his armor had locked up. Not good, and that brief pause had given the Purifier on the ground time to recover, and he was shooting another torrent of flame in his direction, this time scorching his right leg, which locked up alongside his arms.

And here it ended again. There was no way he could now get out of this, and both remaining Purifiers focused their weapons on him again and engulfed him in a final torrent of flame.

 _“Resetting field,”_ came the voice of the CODEX system overseeing the simulation. _“Unlocking armor.”_

The Battlemaster could move again, and the entire room disappeared, settling back down into a massive, flat room. The Prism, on its own, was comparable to a medium-sized Human city, like Las Vegas, now that he thought about it. The main part in any case. Very rarely was the entire size needed, but it was exceptionally helpful for actually simulating a battlefield.

The Battlemaster sighed and placed his sword on his back. It was a very good thing the Prism existed, otherwise he wouldn’t be nearly as effective as he was today. The Purifiers were a much bigger problem than he had expected, even more so than the majority of XCOM or the MDUs. How the Humans had even discovered a chemical that dangerous, and thought to _weaponize_ it, was something he was impressed by.

And should he get into a bad situation, there was a good chance he might lose. Right now the rate was close to fifty-fifty for more than three at a time. He could now handle two reliably, but three was still an issue. It was unlikely they would pose a threat for the more powerful Ethereals like Caelior, but they were a concern for him.

The good news was that in simulated full-scale battles, there was still a perfect success rate. Even now in order to fully be concerned about the Purifiers, they needed to be desperate. If he stayed within ADVENT lines, they would not fire on their own. The CODEX was ruthless sometimes, and that was likely contributing to some of his defeats.

Correction, the CODEX was as ruthless as he allowed.

It was unlikely that ADVENT or XCOM would be as smart, or as practical as some of the scenarios here, but his general rule was to assume his enemy was smarter than he was, and prepare for the worst. To date, the worst had not actually happened, but it made for an interesting practice. At least the Humans had something that gave him some pause, Sectoids were laughable, every last one of them; the Muton Praetorians and Sargons were a challenge, but the CODEX was still not good at processing how smart a Sargon actually was, but at least none of them could instantly kill him. Most Vitakara were weak and easily dispatched, with the possible exception of the Oyariah Titans, but even those were more entertainment than anything else.

Andromedons were the largest challenge, since they both had the Special Operators and had direct psionic counters. The issues were that the CODEX still hadn’t got their more sophisticated tactics right, and the basic Andromedons were still easy enough to kill.

Where things got _very_ interesting was whenever he put another Ethereal in the scenario, mostly Aegis, and he was more and more concerned with the results.

Namely, that there hadn’t been a scenario where he had won against a fully hostile Aegis. Even if the CODEX was not as sophisticated as he’d liked, that didn’t bode well for an actual encounter with Aegis. It was very likely that should he be encountered in the field, he was simply not strong enough to kill him. Only another, stronger, one could.

That immediately ruled out himself, Sicarius, perhaps both of the Guardians and Quisilia. In his mind, the best one to fight Aegis would be Caelior, Isomnum, Deusian, and perhaps Macula. This was one instance where he felt this would be best handled by the Imperator himself. There were simply too many unknowns, and the simulator wasn’t able to properly detect or exhibit telepathy.

But for the moment, it was sufficient.

The main Prism room fell silent, and the Battlemaster waited for the CODEX to appear before him again. The room itself was a bright white when unsimulated, and composed of millions of ‘blocks’ which rose and fell to simulate terrain, buildings, and other physical scenarios. The Prism itself had three main levels, the lower two could combine into one massive one, although this was only used in space combat scenarios.

The top floor was more or less an armory of his weapons and suits, along with anything else that piqued his interest. Aside from that, it was rather bare and he hadn’t really figured out what to do with the extra space, so he’d more or less converted it to guest barracks, as the Lurainian did train here on occasion, as did the Zararch.

The CODEX materialized in front of him. “Battlemaster, would you like to repeat the scenario or choose a new one?”

The Battlemaster realized that the gravity still felt off. “Revert to standard gravity, and no, shut down for today.”

“Acknowledged,” she said, and the Battlemaster felt the gravity return to normal. Most would likely not train on three times the standard gravity, but it certainly came in handy and allowed him to move unhindered even on high-gravity planets like Desolan. It was more tiring than usual, but it was a temporary pain he could endure.

The CODEX disappeared and the Battlemaster turned before pausing. “CODEX, countermand that order.” He was suddenly feeling in a mood to relax a bit, and he felt he deserved an easier scenario. It wasn’t as though he had anything pressing at the moment.

The CODEX appeared before him. “Acknowledged. Please state a scenario or create a new one. If you have any additional modifiers, please also state them.”

“Sectoid Hiveship Scenario,” he said, reaching for his sword. “Insertion beginning, bring down Spacesuit from Armory; standard Hiveship gravity.” Which essentially amounted to standard Earth Gravity.

“Any additional allied or hostile forces?” The CODEX asked.

“No.” He stated. “Only me, and only Sectoid forces inside.”

“Additional objectives?”

“None, extermination.”

“Any additional modifiers?”

The Battlemaster considered for a moment. Well, since this was not a serious scenario, he could afford to enjoy himself some. “Begin designated music tracklist upon start of scenario, Audiomachine, run on loop until end of scenario.”

“Understood,” she said. “Any additional modifiers?”

“No, begin construction.”

“Bringing Spacesuit from armory,” she said and disappeared, and he walked over to where it was coming down from to top floor as the room began darkening and changing. The Prism was the result of what happened when Sovereign technology was properly created and applied. Why the Imperator was so hesitant to use their tech was something he had avoided thinking about, but whenever he did, it made little sense.

It wasn’t just the Imperator either, the majority of Ethereals were surprisingly suspicious of their technology, and he couldn’t figure out why. On some level he suspected it had to do with pride, as Sovereign tech was _far_ beyond even Imperial technology, but if that were the case, they would not be using Gateways.

There was clearly some suspicion on if it affected the users, and it did come down on some level to trusting the Sovereign Ones, which he _had_ considered a valid reason at first, but at this point, he no longer believed that. If there were truly detrimental effects of Sovereign technology, the majority of the Collective would be affected simply because of the Gateways, not to mention constructs like the Prism itself.

On some level it was probably the Creator, and others unfortunately applied her insanity to Sovereign tech as a whole, even though her deteriorating mental state was likely due more to unrestricted boundaries and _actual_ communication with the Sovereign Ones than use of their technology.

So what was the reason?

That was something to be solved after Earth was dealt with. But at least there were some who understood the value. Ironic that he and the Creator actually agreed on something. Fectorian was the only other one who was actively trying to figure out just how Sovereign tech actually worked, and the Battlemaster had been surprised to learn that the Imperator had ordered him to cease work on that, and instead focus on other, trivial projects.

Like that Avatar Project.

He shook his head as he changed into the space worthy variant of his armor. The Avatar Project was useful in theory, but he failed to see how it was the game changer the Imperator seemed to think it was. Perhaps it was simpler than that. Revelean was one who believed there were some aspects of the universe that should not be tampered with, and he suspected the Imperator might agree with regards to specific aspects of Sovereign tech.

In the Prism’s instance, one reason only Fectorian had worked on it was because the technology used to make it function as well as it did involved the manipulation of dark energy. It was how the scenarios were able to be so realistic. The opponents fought were more than just projections, dark energy was able to be concentrated in specific points to give the illusion that he was cutting through something, and he could _feel_ cutting through something. Just as he could feel the fake gauss slugs hitting him.

Some aspects couldn’t be replicated of course, like pain, burning, most forms of psionics, but it was far superior to nothing at all. If he suffered injuries, his suit would simply lock up and he couldn’t use it. Apparently Fectorian still didn’t understand how the manipulation of dark energy worked, because the Sovereign Ones had given him the exact schematics and instructions on how to build it, after he had inquired as to building a kind of simulator the Battlemaster had suggested once.

Implying that the Sovereign Ones had either had this already planned out, or they managed to come up with it in the space of a conversation. The Battlemaster was ignorant about much of the greater mysteries of the universe, but he suspected that being able to manipulate dark energy would be useful against the Synthesized.

He placed the helmet on, and waited for the HUD to initialize as the suit sealed itself. As much as it would be a failure of his to let the Humans get to that point, he somewhat wished he could fight in a proper space battle. However, when they moved on the inner galaxy, there would likely be plenty of opportunities then.

He’d ponder the Imperator’s reluctance to employ Sovereign tech later. For now, he was going to take an enjoyable break to the tune of some excellent music. If there was one area where Humans were absolutely superior to all other races, it was in the absurd variety of music they could make. Ethereals had never considered it something worthy of ‘entertainment’ so the concept of listening to music just because it was enjoyable was one that had taken some time to fully grasp.

He’d considered the benefits of it when listening to some Vitakara music, at least from what little they produced, the majority of which had surprisingly come from the Oyariah, but had really never found it personally to his liking. Sectoids and Andromedons had absolutely nothing, and records of Muton War Chants still existed, but they just sounded like a lot of screaming.

Humans though, _that_ was something they were good at. True, there was some of it he didn’t care for, but there was enough that _was_ for him to be completely satisfied. He personally found those from the rock, metal, and epic genres to be the absolute best, although Humans made quite good music for much of their entertainment, especially movies and video games.

After listening to some for the first time, he was beginning to understand why Quisilia had taken an interest in the species beyond a purely practical perspective. The Battlemaster found it somewhat depressing that _Quisilia_ of all Ethereals was somehow the one he could most relate to recently. At least he saw this entire operation of at least some worth.

And he was _not_ looking forward to bringing on Macula and Isomnum, but measures had to be taken. The next phases had to begin and more Ethereals were needed.

No, realities of war could come later. This was his break, and he was going to enjoy it.

“Begin scenario,” he ordered, after checking his suit for integrity. “Ten second delay.”

The room darkened, and the Battlemaster felt a sharp change in gravity. The area around him changed to that of space, and in the distance was a Sectoid Hiveship, a massive circular ship that gleamed in the artificial sunlight. Ten second delay was up.

The floor dropped out from underneath him.

 _“Scenario begun,”_ the CODEX said, and the music began playing.

The Battlemaster activated the jets on his back and legs, shooting forward towards the massive ship which had noticed him and started to fire plasma. Fortunately it was easy enough to avoid and he was small compared to most space targets, and he sighted the hatch he wanted to enter. On most scenarios he’d spend some time disabling the guns, but he didn’t feel like doing that at this point.

Using his jets to spin and dodge the plasma, he landed on the Hiveship with hardly a scratch, and with telekinesis he forced the hatch open and dropped inside on some terrified simulated Sectoids. With the music blaring in his ears, he began cutting his way through the ship, the troubles and concerns of the Collective fading to the background.

***

_Desolan Orbit_

At times, Nartha wondered just how realistic the goal of rebelling against the Collective actually was. As he sped to the primary orbital station over Desolan, he was now worried he had been overly optimistic about their chances.

Desolan itself was a barren wasteland. It had always been like that. Even today volcanos went off daily, and that was nowhere as prominent as it had been even a century ago. The one large body of water was contaminated with ash, and barely drinkable without severe filtering. He did recall there had been a project to fully purify the Desolan Bowl, but he didn’t know how or if that was even happening.

That was not the only body of water of course, or the Mutons would have died out long ago. There were pockets of uncontaminated springs throughout the planet, all of which were continuously purified by Collective equipment to not destroy the last sources of water on the planet. From his understanding of Muton culture before their assimilation, this had been the most precious resource on the planet.

Muton tribes generally wandered until they found a spring, and went to war with each other for control of them. It was just one reason that they had been constantly at war with each other. The only reasons he could think of why they hadn’t died out with the scarce amount of water was because they had evolved to not require nearly as much water as other species, and because their numbers had been much smaller, only in the hundreds of thousands, not the billions as it was today.

 _“This is Desolan Primary Station Two,”_ the deep voice said, probably a Borelian from the inflection. _“Please send identification codes or be fired upon.”_

Nartha’s lips curled up. “Sending now. I’m on orders from the Zar’Chon himself.”

_“Noted. Processing now.”_

Yes, he probably was being overly optimistic.

Desolan was the heart of the Collective war machine. It was without a doubt the most heavily guarded planet in the Collective, and for good reason. To his knowledge there weren’t similar War Camps on other worlds, or there wouldn’t be until the Collective used up every piece they could of Desolan itself.

So that was why the Desolan Fleet alone dwarfed the entire Runianarch Navy, and it was about a quarter of the size of the Sectoid fleet, and a third of the Federation Navy. Just looking out his viewport he saw four Federation Carriers, a minimum of sixteen Cleanser Ships, ones which specialized in orbital bombardment, but were actually quite effective against smaller hostile spacecraft.

To make it even more ridiculous, there were no less than eight Sectoid Hiveships, the massive Dreadnought-class saucers that he was pretty sure were the size of an Earth city. The Sectoids didn’t build many medium-class spacecraft, it was either very large, or very small. But each Hiveship contained hundreds, maybe thousands of Sectoid Fighters, Scouts, and Transports.

But the flagship of the Desolan Fleet was actually the one and only Vitakarian Dreadnought, the _Elder’s Maelstrom,_ built solely for the destruction of enemy Capital-class spacecraft, and higher. It was twice the length of a Hiveship, albeit only a fraction as wide, with angled armor plates that were symmetrical across all sides. It was largely due to the fact that the _Maelstrom_ was essentially a massive gun.

Nartha didn’t know how it worked, only that it was supposedly powerful enough to destroy a Hiveship in one hit. On top of that the hull was dotted with point-defense lasers, missile launchers, plasma and gauss turrets for both fighters and medium-class spacecraft, as well as a small fleet of Runianarch fighters and bombers.

The Vitakara didn’t build spacecraft specifically for war often, but when they did, they were hard to match. Beyond the fleet itself, there were sixteen different orbital stations surrounding the entire planet, all with their own defenses, and each of the two hundred and eighteen Gateways to Desolan had a self-destruct sequence that any of the orbital stations could activate.

Hm. Perhaps that could be useful?

The point was that the chances of _anyone_ posing even a slight threat to Desolan were very, _very_ low. He wasn’t even sure an Ethereal could take the planet unscathed. Even if the fleet was somehow able to be destroyed, there was the planet itself.

Desolan was no longer the tan, rocky planet it had been. The War Camps could be seen from space and were spread out all over the planet. Removing the billions of Mutons, and other Collective forces, Desolan was _not_ a friendly place for _anyone_. The volcanoes were bad, but not nearly as prevalent as the dust storms, arid weather, and high gravity.

That was something the Humans would have to keep in mind if they fought here. Their gauss weapons, or any other conventional weapons they still employed wouldn’t work quite the same, whereas plasma weaponry dominated here. At least there were no predators. The few other animal species found had been swiftly wiped out once the Collective had taken control, in order to remove as many threats as possible.

 _“You are cleared for landing at Station Two,”_ the operator said. _“You’ll be able to take a Gateway to the surface within. The Station Commander has also requested a meeting before you depart.”_

“Understood,” Nartha said as he angled his spacecraft towards the Hangar. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Now, how was he going to go about doing this?

He wasn’t interested so much in the person killing the Berserkers as he was in the method used to accomplish it. Should he acquire that, it might be useful later in the war. He’d do a cursory search, but he doubted out of all the Zararch agents, that _he_ would be the one to find the culprit. Framing someone might draw him out, but Nartha didn’t consider that worth the risk. No, better to figure out how it was done, and use that later.

The Muton abductions on the other hand, that would be investigated thoroughly. That would be difficult, but no one could pull off an operation like this without leaving some obvious tells, and since they weren’t Nulorian, it might mean they wouldn’t be as professional and thus make his job more difficult.

The Zar’Chon hadn’t given him a specific amount of time that these issues needed to be solved, but the sooner he wrapped both of these up, the better. At the same time, he needed to be very careful. The idea that the Zar’Chon suspected something was off with him couldn’t be ignored, and he wouldn’t put it past him to order another Zararch agent to tail him.

So first he would need to establish if he was being observed, while investigating the Berserker deaths, since he didn’t plan to do much off the record with that assignment, and once he figured it out one way or another, he would proceed with the abductions. Then there was the high likelihood of encountering other Zararch agents, since more had been assigned to these cases.

The good news was that Zararch agents preferred working alone, so he hoped he was safe from that. A partner would severely complicate his job.

Entering the Hangar, he began bringing his ship down for a solid landing, taking a deep breath as he prepared to enter one of the most dangerous strongholds of the Collective.

***

_Mars Observation Station, Zar’Chon Chambers_

Ravarian wasn’t quite sure he’d heard correctly. “How many did you say?”

“Three more,” Quisilia repeated, as amused as ever. “Yes, the Battlemaster wants to move this invasion to a more comfortable phase. Short of a final invasion, this is the best way to do it.”

“Good news then, I suppose,” Ravarian said, still thinking furiously, although he knew Quisilia could just read his mind to know his true feelings. He had met approximately five Ethereals in his entire career, one of which no one else knew about. Now that was going to be extended to three more he’d never heard of before.

And he was going to be speaking to them. “Are you certain I am best for this?” He asked. “I am aware that not all Ethereals are as… _open_ to listening to other aliens as you and the Battlemaster are.”

“They’ll get over it,” Quisilia dismissed. “Both the Battlemaster and I believe it’s past time the Ethereals let go of our admitted xenophobia when it comes to alien species. Treat them with respect, and you have little to fear.”

“You say that,” Ravarian said dryly. “However, my experience with Caelior has me skeptical. He did almost strangle me once. Should I expect a similar level of resentment?”

“Unlikely,” Quisilia said, looking out the external feed of Mars. “Caelior is young and arrogant, and has clearly changed as you’ve noted. If there is anyone you should concern yourself with, it is Isomnum, but his part in the war will be… _limited._ ”

Ravarian frowned. “Why?”

Quisilia gestured and on cue Fluffy jumped into his extended palm. “Because of his abilities, to put it lightly. He has a rather warped perspective, one that has arisen as the result of his ability to drive people insane. It’s a hobby of his, if I can be blunt, he makes Caelior look like a harmless kitten in perspective. But he is one of the oldest and most powerful Ethereals in the Collective.”

Wonderful, an Ethereal sadist.

“That is also not inaccurate,” Quisilia commented. “Still, be sure to never speak to him alone without me there. This goes for your people. Leaving him unattended will likely result in a large part of this station succumbing to sudden bouts of insanity.”

“Maybe this should be held somewhere else,” Ravarian muttered, bringing up a hololist from his palm. “This is sounding like a safety hazard for everyone involved.”

“I would tend to agree,” Quisilia nodded. “However, if you wish to change it, I suggest you do it soon.”

“Will do,” Ravarian confirmed. “And the Battlemaster wants me to present the information to them?”

“Also correct,” Quisilia said. “They will be unfamiliar with the current political and military situation on Earth, and will need it explained clearly and concisely. They will also need an explanation on the various figures of interest. I assume the Battlemaster has informed you about how he plans to proceed?”

“The overall plan,” Ravarian clarified. “Some details were intentionally vague, although this seems to be why. It is an abrupt change in strategy, but one I feel will ultimately serve us better than simple warfare.”

“It will be interesting to see how this plays out,” Quisilia mused, turning away again. “If nothing else, this is an excellent warm-up exercise for the main event. Really, if we cannot properly subdue a technologically inferior species, what hope do we have against the species of the inner galaxy?” He laughed briefly at the end of that.

“To be fair, we are intentionally handicapping ourselves,” Ravarian pointed out. “This war could be over in a matter of weeks if we truly wished to conquer them.”

There was the sound of Quisilia sighing. “Part of that is due to your unfamiliarity with our future plans, but please, if all we were interested in was the subjugation of the Humans, we wouldn’t be going through this whole charade, would we? No, conquering a species is easy, but if all we wanted was numbers, we’d just do what we did to the Mutons.”

Fluffy jumped down from Quisilia’s arm as he turned to fully face Ravarian. “The Humans are important. We want them on our side, not now of course, but that is what the new strategy intends to change. You are well aware ADVENT has its own secrets and black operations. ADVENT has enemies, and we do not need to stoop to petty lies to discredit them.”

Quisilia turned back to the external feeds, which showed Earth. “The Empire made many mistakes in retrospect, and this war has highlighted the flaws of the Collective itself, many of which the Humans have directly, and indirectly, exposed. We need to change, we cannot rely on force to win our wars, it did not work before, and it will not work in the future. At some point we will face an enemy more powerful than us, and we cannot afford to face it with just this Collective.”

Ravarian listened intently. The Ethereal Empire was something Quisilia rarely referenced, but he didn’t completely see the point of doing this the hardest way possible. “At the same time, Quisilia, there is little the Humans could do to stop us if we really wanted it. All that is needed is for their leaders to be influenced to do as we wish.”

“A short-sighted answer,” Quisilia said coolly. “One that has long since passed. Humans are capable of psionics, that strategy is no longer viable for long-term operations. Too much has been done that they will never surrender willingly, not so long as Aegis is with XCOM. If we were to simply conquer the Humans, and treated them as the Mutons, it is unlikely we could harness their own ingenuity. It is impressive, is it not, how they have still managed to hold out? We will need that in the future.”

Ravarian decided to let the matter drop. He could see Quisilia’s point, but at the same time believe it was ultimately an interesting experiment that cost time, resources, and lives. However, he was _very_ sure that Quisilia was not telling the entire truth. The real reason they were treating the Humans this way might be something only he knew.

Maybe one day he’d learn it, but for now he’d complete the objectives set out for him.

“The inner galactic species,” he said. “You are concerned about them.”

Ravarian didn’t know much about the inner rim species, aside from that Sicarius and Quisilia had gone on missions of their own, and that the exact details were only shared amongst themselves. But he was growing more and more curious about them as time went on, because once the Humans were dealt with, that was where their attention would be turned towards.

Quisilia just looked at him for a short time, almost as if coming to a decision. “Not the species themselves, but what they represent. You will learn in good time, Zar’Chon, prepare for the meeting. I will see you there.”

And the Ethereal promptly vanished in front of him. Cryptic hints, excellent. Well, he’d be thinking of that for the rest of the day. Or at least the time he wasn’t spending putting together a presentation suitable for five beings who could kill him with a single gesture.

His job was rather stressful sometimes.

***

_Helion-7 Primary Hive_

The Battlemaster had always found it curious that despite the Sectoids being ludicrously small, even compared to other species like Vitakara, their architecture was open, tall, and massive. Helion-7 was the pinnacle of Sectoid architecture, as the entire planet was composed of nothing more than hundreds of Hives, megastructures housing millions of Sectoids that extended deep into the ground.

Sectoids didn’t have commodities like nearly every other species. They didn’t have homes, belongings or possessions. They didn’t sleep. They only required nutrient injections every week for food and water. All they ever did was whatever task they had been bred for. So every piece of equipment, building, and technology was always manned by at least one Sectoid drone.

But now it was certainly different.

There were noticeably fewer Sectoids than before, and the Greater Sectoid Hive had slowed down production of nearly everything to deal with the sudden plague. There had been little that could be done, and while the Battlemaster hadn’t personally overseen it, the most common tactic was complete sterilization. Entire Hives were terminated if they were infected or no, and to be safe all the nearby ones were sterilized as well.

It was another reason the Battlemaster didn’t like the species. Rather than try and find a way to stop or reverse the disease, they simply terminated those they found without further explanation. It was especially galling because Revelean had agreed to help, but when he went to the Hive Commanders, he had been told that they were ‘solving the problem.’

The Battlemaster would never understand the logic of those who would rather have control over a force of organic drones over a much smaller, but smarter alternative. Yet the entirety of Sectoid culture, if it could even be called that, revolved around it. Sectoids were grown to do one specific task, and that task was all they knew. They were completely useless anywhere else.

The only ones with any sort of individuality were the Hive Commanders.

And they were utterly emotionless. Were it any other species he would call them overly cruel and wasteful. But they were not Ethereals. This logic was simply what they understood and to them, he knew that every other species was viewed by them as overly emotional and compromised.

For this they made excellent scientists for performing the more unethical experiments of the Collective. The Battlemaster had always found them strangely fascinating in how they worked, while at the same time being repulsed by them. They didn’t have emotions, well, that wasn’t completely correct. But the only ones he had ever seen from them were anger, arrogance, and fear.

And even then, he wasn’t sure if they were ever truly afraid, or if they just pretended to be.

 _Hive Commander Zero-Zero-One will speak to you now_ , the scratchy voice of his Sectoid guide said in his mind. _Follow us._

So he did. His escort was unsurprisingly the Helion-7 Defenders, who had also seemed to be spared from the plague itself. They were considered the most dangerous force on the planet with the exception of the Hive Commanders, and even then that was debatable with how they worked. The Defenders wore orange armor that covered every part of their body, unlike most Sectoids, and had the ability to link directly to a Hive Commander. Supposedly their power was just below a real one, but the Battlemaster didn’t know for sure. To his knowledge, they had never been used in combat before.

His armored boots made almost no sound on the alloy floor, which radiated warmth, a side effect of the massive elerium generators that powered the Hives. It was a bizarre property of the metal here, but one he quickly got used to. They traveled through the towering archway and multicolored shields that permeated Sectoid architecture, and into a room that had what passed for individuality with the Sectoids.

The function of most Sectoid rooms was very clearly stated on the outside, a recent addition from incorporating Ethereal Script into their language, but here there were several combinations of technology that would never exist in any other room in the Hive. There were cloning tubes, dissection tables, stasis chambers and several glass chambers where this particular Hive Commander kept his specimens.

At the moment, Hive Commander 001 was over his ridiculously short dissection table, currently in the process of surgically removing the eyes of another Sectoid. For what purpose, the Battlemaster could only guess at. What unnerved him about Sectoid experiments was that they didn’t use any form of anesthetic during their experiments. They had a drug that induced complete nervous system paralysis, but kept the subject very much alive.

To the Sectoids, anesthetic was something that accomplished nothing, and thus they didn’t use it. There was little he could do to stop the practice, but that didn’t mean he liked it, nor would he tolerate it in front of him. He reached out with his telekinesis using a lower hand and squeezed, and the body jerked as the innards of the Sectoid were suddenly crushed, killing it instantly.

Hive Commander 001 looked up at his approach, setting down his scalpel and tapping a button on his wrist that retracted the spindly mechanical arms that were assisting his project. _Battlemaster, welcome._ The Battlemaster could detect the sneering tone immediately, the unfiltered voice of the Sectoid entering his mind instantly.

He knew he was most certainly _not_ welcome, but just something 001 was doing as a courtesy, as if they hadn’t determined his true motives long ago.

Sectoids did not have names. Not even the Hive Commanders. They simply had numerical designations, and Hive Commander 001 was supposedly the first, and by extension, oldest Hive Commander. He had been instrumental in shaping the Sectoid species into what it was today. Because of this he was regarded as the unofficial leader of the Greater Hive Commanders, even though they didn’t have standard ranks.

The spindly alien with ruddy orange skin barely reached to his knee while standing at his full height, but the solid golden eyes of 001 were incapable of expressing anything but sheer disdain and arrogance. Ethereals did not intimidate him. Nothing did.

The Imperator was not fooled. The Sectoids believed that the Collective was only a means to an end, and that the Greater Hive Commanders were preparing for the day when they were powerful enough to take control of all who they deemed lesser species. How little they knew, and how easily they had been manipulated into believing their actions were of their own accord.

Hive Commander 001 did not bother to hide his disdain for aliens, while most Hive Commanders at least made a pretense of an alliance. He rarely interacted with other Ethereals, instead staying on Helion-7, a recluse in the goal of advancing his species. The only reason the Battlemaster suspected they were speaking was because the Greater Hive Commanders had deemed it important to assure the Imperator that they were still committed to the Collective.

Yet it was clear 001 was not going to enjoy doing it.

“What is the status of your species?” The Battlemaster asked, knowing 001 would despise small talk. As did he, especially when dealing with Sectoids.

 _We are moving forward,_ 001 answered, turning to the Battlemaster slowly, tapping several buttons on his wrist gauntlet which brought forth a small floating platform he stepped on. _The diseased are purged and the drones will be replenished in weeks. XCOM mistakenly believed such a disease would cripple us. The drones can be replaced easily._

The Battlemaster was unimpressed as 001 rose up to eye level on the platform. “You refused Ethereal assistance. While it certainly was not possible to salvage all of the drones, we could have prevented the bulk from succumbing to the disease.”

The Hive Commander blinked once. _The drones have served their purpose, and the previous iteration was flawed. We will begin phasing out the remaining defective drones once our numbers have been restored to sufficient levels.”_

Phasing out. Which meant that whatever drone hadn’t been killed soon would be. Such a waste of perfectly usable units. “Then what is your solution? Your method of creating drones is clearly flawed. Another disease could do the same thing if you retain your methods.”

 _Walk with me,_ 001 essentially ordered as he floated forward. The Battlemaster followed, both of them escorted by the Helion-7 Defenders. _The method is perfectly serviceable. Genetic diversity leads to divergence; to individuality; to a number of unknowable factors that would threaten the Greater Hive Commanders. If the drones die to these infernal tricks the Humans create, then little of value has been lost. The Greater Hive Commanders still stand, and we are all that matter._

“So you will do nothing.” The Battlemaster stated flatly. “Is it really a strain to ensure that if another bioweapon on this scale does hit, it wouldn’t halt your entire species?”

 _XCOM will not do this again,_ 001 disputed, the voice sneering. _They are sentimental fools who believe this act horrifies us, or that we are crippled for years. If only. The drones mean nothing. They will be replaced, and nothing will change. Let the Humans build their weapons, let them see how little effect it has on us. A drone does not feel fear, it does not care if it is wasting away, it only will work to complete the task for which it has been assigned._

Self-serving imbecile. The Battlemaster was well aware that the drones could be replaced, and that they didn’t necessarily care as they died horrific deaths. But the problem was that, regardless of effectiveness, the Sectoid Fleet had been reduced to nearly a tenth of its strength over a period of months, and while that didn’t affect the war on Earth much, against an _actual_ enemy, those months were vital.

Not to mention morale suffered as the non-Sectoids saw the effects of a bioweapon that turned the being to little more than mush.

“Then use templates,” the Battlemaster said evenly. “Diversifying every single Sectoid is impractical, but additional templates would reduce the chance of being wiped out again. It is wise to take precautions, if for no other reason than the next enemy we face who does this might not be as weak as the Humans.”

 _No,_ 001 growled into his head. _We will not subject our species to the chaos of diversity. There are defined roles for our species, and that is how we have avoided petty conflict for thousands of years. Diversity leads to individualism, which leads to disobedience, which leads to conflict._ The fist of the Hive Commander clenched at the sheer gall the Battlemaster had to question him. _We will not change simply because you demand it. We care nothing for your arguments of morality, effectiveness, or resources. What you suggest undermines the structure of the Greater Hive Commanders, and this will not be permitted. These orders will not be recognized, no matter if them come from you, or by-_

The Hive Commander stiffened as he felt the psionic forces converge around his body. The Battlemaster slowly walked around the large open hallway to stand in front of him, a hand raised with the fingers in a C position, as if gripping something. “You forget your place, Hive Commander Zero-Zero-One,” the Battlemaster said coolly, slowly applying more pressure. “It is one thing to disagree with our ideas and standards, but it is another to simply refuse our direction.”

 _You will not kill me,_ 001 said, eyes brimming with fury. _The Imperator will not allow his little soldier to disrupt our great alliance._

The Battlemaster chuckled. “The Imperator does not care what you think. You can simply be replaced, is that not what you espouse? I know Hive Commanders can be created, and the first generations deteriorate over time. Perhaps it is time to phase them out.”

 _Do not think to compare me to the thoughtless drones,_ 001 spat back, although he did seem slightly worried now. Although still surprisingly unafraid. _Your false equivalence is the tactic of one who is in an inferior position. Do you honestly believe you are one to fear?_

The Battlemaster appraised him. “Fear is not a detriment, Zero-Zero-One, it can save your life. You are inflexible; your methods are outdated and inferior to the coming wars; if you are incapable of working with me out of your arrogance and pride, then there is no further use for you. If you will not make the necessary adjustments, then I will find another who shall.”

With that he reached for his sword and the Helion-7 Defenders reacted, although he had anticipated this and with his free hands, directed his telekinesis at the escort and squeezed. The aliens squealed as their helmets and armor caved into their bodies, which leaked yellow fluid as they began bleeding out.

_Battlemaster!_

He didn’t look over at the new contingent of scurrying Sectoids coming towards him, for fear it might be a trick. He telekinetically pulled 001 towards him until his hand was snugly around the spindly alien’s throat. Then he turned to see the one who had addressed him. It was another Hive Commander, this one without any armoring, clothing or gadgets, but from his posture and tone, the Battlemaster knew who it was.

“Hive Commander Zero-Two-Nine,” he said. “This does not concern you, or the Greater Sectoid Commanders.”

 _I am unaware of the dispute,_ 029 said calmly. _But you do have our oldest Hive Commander in your grasp, and by default I believe we are entitled to know why you are attempting to kill him._

“I, and the Collective, have tolerated his antagonistic behavior towards aliens, but my patience is at an end,” the Battlemaster stated, just as calmly. If nothing else, 029 did pretend to be a diplomat even if his ambitions were the same as all the others. “There is a point where willful ignorance of the realities of conflict and military matters are dangerous to the Collective. Zero-Zero-One believes that there is nothing to be changed as the result of the XCOM bioweapon, believing that the introduction of measures to negate this from happening again will bring about the destruction of your species.”

 _I understand our history and ways are not your own,_ 029 said with a nod, a mannerism he’d adopted from his years of moving between the Collective as a representative of the Greater Hive Commanders. _Nonetheless, I believe that his death is an extreme step. You are not one to kill out of a simple disagreement, Battlemaster, it is unlike you._

The little orange alien was clever. “Zero-Zero-One refused Ethereal assistance, and has stated there are no changes to be made. He will not listen to reasons as to why this path is unacceptable. This is not his first offense either. He believes he is beyond consequences. If the Greater Hive Commanders will not reign him in, then I will.”

 _Let me assure you that 001 spoke out of ignorance,_ 029 said quickly. _To say that we are doing nothing is absurd, but it is understandable you would come to that conclusion, as we have not informed him of certain projects taking place. If you would walk with me, we can discuss this more rationally and I can assure you that we will return fully to the Collective stronger than ever._

That was a lie if he’d ever heard one. 001 _was_ as close to a leader as the Sectoids had. The idea that anything would be done without his knowledge or permission was absurd, unless things had _really_ changed in the Greater Hive Commanders. But for now he would indulge 029. All he cared about was results, and if an attempted execution forced the Sectoids to act, then that was fine.

With a flick of his wrist he tossed the tiny Sectoid away without a look, and walked towards Hive Commander 029. “Then show me what you are doing.”

 _Of course, Battlemaster,_ he said as he began walking down another hallway. _Right this way._

***

_Desolan, War Camp 402_

Nartha’s meeting with the Station Commander had been short and to the point. It had essentially boiled down to ‘do your job and don’t interfere without approval.’ Simple enough, and he’d figured that there was no point wasting time and headed directly down to the surface.

Desolan Gateways operated differently than other ones in the Collective. Instead of being accessible by any other Gateway, they were instead only accessible by certain other linked Gateways. Supposedly. Nartha wasn’t sure if that was actually true, or a piece of misinformation from the Zararch. The advantages to that would be that Desolan wouldn’t fall under a surprise attack, and the disadvantage would be that they had no way to easily counterattack the planet should it fall.

So from what he could tell, the idea of locked Desolan Gateways could go either way.

But for the moment, he was immediately not enamored with the planet itself. From the moment he’d stepped outside into the War Camp, the heavier gravity set in, and just walking around was strenuous. The planet was somehow even more arid than he’d anticipated, and overall he was not comfortable at all.

Still, this was the first time he had properly surveyed a Muton War Camp up close.

It was…interesting. One word for it, anyway.

Nartha had never seen so many Mutons in one place before. He couldn’t take a few steps without bumping into a twelve-sized unit of Mutons, all without armor which he’d found surprising. Instead there was some other kind of textile clothing they wore, heavily padded, but it cut down their bulk by a noticeable amount. He’d also found it interesting that not all Mutons were completely covered. Some had bared arms and legs; others wore face coverings; it wasn’t uniform, and that was surprising to him.

The War Camps were without fault divided up into specific sections. Each one was massive, and from birth to deployment, all phases were covered. The birthing stations were where the females continuously birthed Mutons, which were then taken to Infant Control, where they were watched, fed, and taught basics of language for the first few years of their lives.

Beside that began the Development Grounds. From what Nartha understood, this was where the equivalent of Muton adolescents and teenagers began their training. It was largely conditioning, with weapons training only coming in the latter years, before they were transferred to the Filter. The name appeared to have been a joke at first, but had stuck as it was extremely appropriate.

The Filter took the training of the Development Grounds, and amped it up to lethal levels. There were live-fire exercises, extreme conditions training with no additional equipment, and near suicide missions. Only about half of the Mutons survived the harsh training here, as opposed to the ninety percent from the Development Grounds.

Should a Muton survive that far, they became a full Muton soldier, and spent the rest of their time in the Staging Area, which was an all-in-one training ground for Mutons, complete with training ranges, exercise machines, war games, which were assigned to them on a daily basis. The operation for each War Camp was a logistical nightmare to his untrained mind, but by now the system was clearly established.

Then there was the War Camp Command, which oversaw all operations and was run by the designated Sargon, the so-called ‘intelligent’ Mutons. Nartha had never met one, so he was curious as to how different they were to regular Mutons. The Command Center was a simple four story block that extended to the sky, and Nartha simply walked through the door.

The Vitakarian sitting at the desk noted his approach, and nodded in his direction. “The Sargon is awaiting you. First door to your right.”

“Thank you,” Nartha said, pleasantly surprised he was actually expected. He followed the instructions and walked down the steel hallway briefly before turning and entering what appeared to be a small medical bay, although small by Muton standards. It was rather large for most others. The Sargon himself stood in front of a desk, clad in green armor, with a curious sash over the armor looped around his shoulder, on which was the emblem of the Collective.

The Sargon was also larger than the standard Muton, and seeing him manipulate a delicate object like a haptic pad was not something he was expecting. “Sargon Desolan-402,” he greeted. “You were expecting me.”

“Agent Nartha,” the Sargon answered in a strangely cultured voice, as he turned to face him. “Good, you’ve come. You are aware of me, so I will not introduce myself. I’m glad to see the Zararch are finally taking an interest in this matter. It has become more serious the more I have looked into it.”

Nartha nodded. “The Muton abductions. What have you found so far?”

“That this has been happening over the course of the past five years,” he answered immediately. “This is not just restricted to this specific War Camp either. Multiple Sargons across Desolan have reported similar anomalies as information is transferred to them. As a result, the exact number of potentially abducted Mutons could be between two hundred thousand, to five hundred thousand.”

That was extremely interesting, because it confirmed several things. One, that this had been going on long before the Humans had entered the picture, so this wasn’t related to them, and two, that whoever was behind this was both extremely smart as well as had a sizable army on their hands. Certainly not a large number in the grand scheme of the Collective, but it was nothing to scoff at.

Still, some things were _not_ adding up. “How exactly could that happen?” Nartha demanded. “Is the integrity of our security and records that easily broken?”

“Allow me to explain what we believe is the issue,” the Sargon said. “There appear to be a couple different phases when Mutons suddenly disappear. Just after they are born, or in their youngling years. After that there does not appear to be any activity. However, this appears to be done at _extremely_ rare intervals.”

The Sargon paused. “Whoever is behind this believes that we will not investigate one anomaly, so their actions are limited. For newborns only one of one hundred that day will go missing, and there will not be similar anomalies for a month. Or a newborn is reported as dead, but the body was never delivered for recycling. This also happens with the younglings, one may suddenly disappear, and one out of ten thousand is not something we would notice otherwise.”

“But since this is happening everywhere, it’s more noticeable,” Nartha surmised. “Clever.”

“Indeed,” he rumbled. “Had this not been noticed, I suspect it would have continued without our knowledge. But now that we are aware of this issue, I am confident that we can pinpoint the perpetrators due to their predictable tactics. We fortunately have access to the complete records as to those who interacted with the abducted Mutons, and in this War Camp, these are the ones you should question.”

He handed the pad to Nartha who began scrolling through the list. This was good and bad. The Sargon was right that it wouldn’t take long to correct, and the Zararch wouldn’t hesitate to kill every one of the suspects after a thorough interrogation to solve this issue. There were other Zararch agents working on this too, and unless these people had prepared for this contingency…they would not last long at all.

So he had to act fast.

“Thank you,” he said, downloading the information to a data cube. “I’ll begin investigating immediately.”

“Excellent,” the Sargon said, sounding pleased. “If you should capture one of them, please bring them back alive. An operation this large should not be allowed to flourish longer than it already has.”

“It will not,” Nartha lied. “I will speak to you again when I have results.”

How he was going to get those results was going to be interesting. If things didn’t go well, he might be better off letting the Zararch win this round. There were, at the moment, so many variables in play that he doubted he could successfully maintain his cover and help this group out. But first he would see what he found before writing this off.

***

_Helion-7 Primary Hive_

_The Greater Hive Commanders recognize the need to change,_ Hive Commander 029 said as they walked down another hallway. The Battlemaster didn’t fail to notice that there were more Defenders trailing behind them, for all the good it would do them. _Hive Commander 001 has expressed his desire to retain the original methods of drone creation, but it is by no means our only option. Even as we speak now we are making experimental genetic alterations to our drones that will only serve to benefit both the Greater Hive Commanders, and the Ethereal Collective._

“Clarify,” the Battlemaster stated, not interested in 029’s smooth diplomacy. The little Hive Commander _was_ very good at talking, especially with aliens, and made obvious attempts to seem reasonable, but at the moment the Battlemaster was not willing to indulge that. “Simply changing the genetic structure and retaining cloning methods is not fixing the problem. You are still vulnerable to another similar bioweapon.”

 _Apologies, Battlemaster, I was not clear,_ 029 said quickly, the tone bordering on the line between condescending and earnest. _You are aware that our drones perform different functions in the Hive and Greater Sectoid Fleet, and the Hive Defender Force, as well as other positions under the Greater Hive Commanders. These Pilots, Soldiers, Scientists, Leaders; they have all had the same genetic sequences, with only minor alterations, which is why so many succumbed to the bioweapon._

They slowed as the hallway showed views into other rooms. Cloning chambers where drones were being grown by the hundreds per room, and grey Sectoid scientists were huddled over machines and microscopes performing with a chittering fervor. _This event has made us realize that our efficiency is simply lacking,_ 029 said, gesturing to the work being done. _We have failed to optimize the drones for their specific purposes. For example, there is little reason that a Scientist and Soldier should have equal intelligence, or durability. The balancing act is something of a concern, for we do not want to increase the drones to a dangerous level of sapience, but there is no question that there is room for improvement._

The Battlemaster didn’t know for sure if this was _actually_ something the Hive Commanders had planned, or if 029 was improvising on the spot to spare the Hive Commanders from further embarrassment. As long as it resulted in change, he didn’t necessarily care. “So the genetic diversity will ensure that one strain will not cripple your species again.”

 _Yes,_ 029 confirmed, drawing out the _s_ making it sound like a hiss. _Several Hive Commanders have taken an interest in how the bioweapon was engineered, it can be replicated for different genetic strands, and we will certainly test it to ensure that if one strand is compromised, it will not affect the others._

“Good,” the Battlemaster nodded as they walked. “That is all that is required. I suspect the Greater Hive Commanders have additional plans beyond this?”

 _Many,_ 029 confirmed, the smallest hint of arrogance in his voice. _While only simple drones were killed, this attack by the Humans was something that we will not sit idly by and ignore. Their supposed mastery over genetic engineering is nothing compared to our own. They will be punished for this action, and we will ensure their world will die._

His curiosity was piqued. “I want specifics.”

They stopped in front of another room, this one filled with hundreds of Earth plants, fruits, vegetables, alges, and numerous kinds of vegetation either held in stasis or potted. _Their army is useless if it starves,_ 029 said. _It is useless if it cannot breathe, it is ineffective against something that it cannot see. We are working on a successful and subtle contamination and subversion of their plant life, turning their food sources into poison, killing the plants outright, and otherwise ensuring that the very planet the Humans wish to protect becomes their enemy._

Well, there was certainly merit in that. He would have to check with the Imperator to see if the deployment of such things would be allowed, or if the Imperator wanted to preserve Earth as it was. Yet he found it an excellent response to the bioweapon. “An impressive effort,” he complimented. “I suspect the Humans will not be able to stop it until it is too late.”

 _They will not,_ 029 assured him, walking forward again. _They believed they were clever by delaying the effects of their bioweapon, a subtlety that can only be respected, but they have underestimated how easily that can be turned on them. On the scale of months to years, weeks are nothing. Even if they were able to counteract our modifications, it will be far too late._

The Battlemaster wondered if they were being too long-term. He doubted this war would last years, and even months was pushing it. Once he spoke with the Imperator and got specifics on what was, and was not permitted, he could deliver specific instructions on what these plagues were supposed to do. Faster-acting ones were preferable, and should the Imperator wish Earth itself not be touched, he could simply have Revelean reverse-engineer the plagues with antidotes and restore Earth after the war was over.

That would be an acceptable compromise. The Sectoids enacted retribution, the Humans were crippled, and Earth was restored at the end.

 _This will take time to fully materialize,_ 029 cautioned. _But we have more…practical…improvements that are soon ready to be deployed. We have been lax in the maintenance of our military forces, as there has not been a need until now, and our own forces are…insufficient…for the task at hand, and fail to adequately match the prowess of other Collective forces._

Translation: We do not want to become obsolete.

Good. The Sectoids needed to realize their contributions would be further reduced if they failed to evolve with the changing times. Their fleet would likely one day be overtaken by the Federation, Mutons were already better soldiers than Sectoids, and the Vitakara, and likely Andromedons would overtake them in the science and engineering fields with time. The Sectoid species was defined by its stagnancy, something that would need to change.

Fortunately, it appeared that would happen.

“Then what are you doing to fix this?” The Battlemaster asked as the shimmering shield in front of them disappeared, and they stepped into a large arena, the oncoming group entering into an elevated area overlooking the lower floor. Standing in rows of ten, and blocks of four rows each, were armored humanoid figures.

 _We have invested considerable resources into the creation of a combat unit,_ 029 stated, clearly proud as he looked down upon the small army. _The Hive Vanguard, the synthesis of Human and Sectoid genetics to create a superior fighting unit as well as greater psionic prowess than any drone before it, excluding the Helion-7 Defenders._

That was incredibly unexpected. The Sectoids creating a purely combat unit was a major step, because despite their fleet, the Battlemaster firmly believed they considered war merely a distraction and problem, not something they intentionally sought out, nor prepared for. At no point had he expected the actual combination of alien and Sectoid genetics.

They truly were fearful of becoming obsolete, it seemed.

The soldiers below him were slightly taller than the average Human, and armored from head to foot. The armor was an obsidian black, and smooth, but not too thick. On the chest was the insignia of the Greater Hive Commanders, a strange mishmash of shapes and lines that made no sense to him, but likely meant a lot to the Hive Commanders on some telepathic scale. Their helmets were simple and had no visible eyepieces, but a few breathing apparatuses on the nose. The wrists were also altered. They carried no weapons, but the left gauntlet certainly looked like a heavily modified Sectoid wrist plasma blaster, and the right one had some sort of smaller, but complicated device on it.

On a likely telepathic cue from 029, the armored figures reached up and removed their helmets in unison, giving the Battlemaster a look at the more visible changes to the unit. Their skin was no longer a grey, but closer to a pinkish flesh color, their eyes were much closer to Human-sized, and were a solid black orb instead of an orange one. Their heads were also in a much better proportion to their bodies. The only clear aspect they retained from the original Sectoid template was the mouthless faces, as it seemed nearly every other aspect had been improved with Human genetics. They even had five fingers now.

 _The Hive Vanguard is superior to standard ADVENT soldiers in every way,_ 029 said. _Armor designed to lessen the impact of gauss weapons, an ability to coordinate instantaneously with nearby Vanguards telepathically, and more importantly, the ability to link with nearby enemies without full mind control._

The Battlemaster looked down at the Hive Commander. “Why not simply mind control them?”

 _Make no mistake,_ 029 clarified. _They can, but that takes considerable effort, as Human minds are more complicated and…unorganized…hindering a smooth subversion. But this allows a simple telepathic link, which will allow the Vanguard to predict incoming attacks with ease and strike where the Humans do not expect it._

Ah, that was a very clever tactic. A shame he wasn’t telepathically capable, because that trick would be invaluable to test out, mind-reading without mind-control was a very valid tactic in hectic battlefronts.

 _Now I will demonstrate how much more effective these Vanguards are to certain current Collective forces,_ 029 continued, and on another telepathic cue, the Vanguards put their helmets back on, and marched to the far left end of the room, save one who stood alone as a door on the opposite end of the room slid open, and a half dozen Sectoid Leaders scurried in.

 _This is the most dangerous ground unit we have deployed,_ 029 said as the Vanguard raised the left hand and began firing. _Let us see how six of them fare against one_. One of the Leaders was taken out by the plasma bursts, and the others began raising their augmented arms to return fire. The Vanguard responded by holding up its opposite arm, with the smaller pieces moving quickly, and without warning a small purple shield materialized in front of the Vanguard, easily protecting it from the worst of the plasma.

The Battlemaster noted with interest that the shield did appear to draw on psionic energy, there were purple distortions around the hand, and he knew what a psionic shield looked like. Now protected, the Vanguard killed another two Leaders with the plasma blaster.

“The shield,” the Battlemaster said. “I have not seen a similar device.”

 _It is a recent development,_ 029 said as the Vanguard thrust its left hand forward, shooting a bolt of psionic energy which killed another Leader. _The psionic gauntlet draws upon psionic energy and manipulates it into specific shapes. The configuration it is now in is a shield. There is a close-range melee configuration as well. Let it be demonstrated._

The purple shield around the Vanguard dissipated, and the pieces of the gauntlet reorganized themselves, and then there was psionic energy molded into the crude shape of a blade jutting from the wrist of the Vanguard. It extended well past the wrist, and was a standard blade design, although the edges were composed of nothing more than unstable psionic energy.

It charged forward at the remaining Leaders, sliced down at one and the blade cut through the unarmored alien with ease, and at the same time, the Vanguard shot the final Leader in the face with the plasma blaster. Once done, it disengaged the gauntlet, stepped back through the carnage, and seemed to be waiting for more orders.

“Impressive,” the Battlemaster complimented, impressed with the initial performance. “I assume that the psionic blade can cut through armor as well?”

 _Of course,_ 029 confirmed. _Not as easily, certainly, but it can penetrate ADVENT armor with direct slashes and stabs. Even the weapons of the Templars would likely not be able to stand against them for very long. Pure psionic energy cannot be stopped so easily._

“Move the Vanguards you have completed into the Collective Military,” the Battlemaster ordered. “I am aware that you don’t have many, but the ones you do will suffice for Earth, and more can be grown later.”

 _It will be done,_ 029 promised, as the Vanguards reassembled before him. _I expect they will serve the Collective well, and will show the Humans the inferiority of their species._

The Battlemaster kept his amusement of that statement in check. Inferior was objectively incorrect, but competition would serve the Sectoids well, now that they knew their psionic aptitude was no longer special. For their place in the Collective to be retained, they would need to earn it.

And the result would be a stronger Collective. Which was all he wanted.

He would be very curious to see just how the Humans would respond to this. He expected it would not take long for them to similarly adapt.

***

_Blacksite 007 – ID: “Watcher” – Overseer: Quisilia_

Of the few Blacksites Ravarian had visited, Quisilia’s was by far the most confusing, from a logistical and psychological perspective. There were no clear directions, there was no symmetry, and some of the rooms seemed like logical impossibilities. He’d taken a wrong turn at one point, and found himself suddenly standing in open space, although that couldn’t have been possible. He’d not thought about it at the time, and slowly backed out. Maybe it was a transparent substance, or external feeds, but still, why would Quisilia need that?

Probably just to screw with his head.

It wasn’t the only confusing thing. He’d spent a good few minutes walking in circles in a seemingly never-ending hallway, which shouldn’t have been possible. The Blacksite must have had some kind of ability to change internally, and he was just the unfortunate victim of either programming, or Quisilia making his life unreasonably difficult.

But eventually he’d arrived at what he assumed was the central room, and if it wasn’t, that was just too bad. If Quisilia wanted to move, he could lead him there himself. Ravarian wasn’t going to waste more time navigating this labyrinth. It was also the first time he saw other beings on the station. They all appeared to be analysts heavily cybernetically modified, especially their heads. They didn’t pay attention to him aside from a few glances to the side.

There were actually a fair number of Sectoids, in addition to the mix of Vitakarians and Dath’Haram. There was also an Oyariah Titan, surprisingly enough. What they were doing he didn’t know, and as soon as he’d entered the room, they’d cleared out, presumably to let him prepare. He didn’t know if Quisilia was actually on the Blacksite, but he assumed he’d show up whenever he wanted.

Probably wanted to make another Twitter status update.

He grimaced at the thought. It would be just like Quisilia to reveal there was something important happening.

But he pushed that thought to the side and began preparing. The room was unreasonably open, with some consoles on the far walls, but otherwise it was just empty spaces aside from the large haptic projector in the middle. Along the far wall were external feeds of space, the current ones focusing on the system sun, although Ravarian knew they weren’t nearly _that_ close to it.

He hoped.

Luckily the haptic projector was standard, and he had no trouble operating it. So there were three major points of note he wanted to address: The situations in Africa and South America, and the current problems in Australia. He knew the Battlemaster would likely add some more to the plan, but this would set the stage and context.

Ravarian had not considered there was anything more going on in Australia until he had taken a closer look at the reports. The Human resistance was one thing, but the recent attacks displayed were not their usual tactics. Something was extremely _wrong_ on the continent, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what that was.

The most obvious tell had been the so-called ‘revolt’, where it seemed like literally every Human had suddenly turned on the Collective forces stationed there. The video recovered was concerning, as it depicted Humans fighting with a resilience and aggression they didn’t normally display. All in complete silence, and even including the children and elderly.

That was bizarre. Humans never risked children, and even if the Commander wouldn’t hesitate to kill them if the circumstances justified it, this did not seem to qualify. There seemed to be clear evidence of psionic meddling, but that would imply there was another Human psion on the level of Patricia in Australia, and then the obvious question became _who_?

The initial suspicion was an XCOM psion, but that didn’t seem likely the more he thought about it. They wouldn’t waste a psion there, not yet, and one on this level would have been used against them by now. Since ADVENT didn’t have psions of their own, it couldn’t be them. So that left two options, an independent Human psion, or an alien traitor.

Neither seemed likely. Whoever this psion was, they clearly had experience and training, likely of a pre-Invasion time period. And there had been no instances of psionic activity from Humans before that. And an alien traitor seemed equally unlikely since the only ones outside Ethereals who were psionic were Sectoids, and the only Sectoids that could do this were Hive Commanders.

It seemed absurd to think that a _Hive Commander_ of all things was a traitor, but it unfortunately made more sense than a surprise Human psion not connected to ADVENT or XCOM.

Either way, that situation needed to be dealt with.

The other continental situations were luckily more straightforward. In South America their way into influencing the region was Konstantine Volikov, who had established contact with certain South American countries who were not a part of ADVENT. Volikov had enjoyed clear success against ADVENT, he was clearly intelligent, methodical, and had the loyalty of his elite band of assassins.

There were several different avenues that could be pursued in convincing him to work with them. He was a pragmatic altruist, and if he could be convinced that the Collective would be better for the people than ADVENT, he would likely fight for that. However, there were a few problems with this entire situation.

The first is that Volikov reportedly didn’t consider the Collective any better than ADVENT, and given what had happened, Ravarian couldn’t blame him from coming to that conclusion. He was only fighting ADVENT out of some moral sense of duty, or because he just disliked authoritarian governments. Either was a possibility based on his background, and that was not especially great news for them.

Ravarian was assuming that the Battlemaster would state that there would be no mind control utilized, so that meant that whoever was sent down would need to convince him, and Volikov was not going to fall easily. He appeared to somehow detect when people were lying or not, and if he learned that the Collective _was_ lying to him…they wouldn’t likely be able to kill an Ethereal, but it made their job in South America much harder.

So, they were best off _not_ lying to him.

He supposed he would learn just what the Ethereals had planned for Humanity after the war was over.

Africa was likely going to be the easiest. All they needed to do was convince Betos that the Collective was a friend, and she would believe them. She was looking for a reason, and all they needed to do was provide it to her. Once that was done, then assisting her in uniting Africa would be the next logical step. He suspected that would not be difficult.

“As do I,” Quisilia agreed as he materialized in front of him. “Betos will not be a problem. Idealists never are.”

“No, but if we’re too obvious, it will bring ADVENT down upon them,” Ravarian noted, shutting down the projector for the moment. “That isn’t preferable until Africa is successfully united against ADVENT.”

“Considering-“ Quisilia suddenly stopped. “Oh, wonderful. I was not expecting him here.”

Ravarian was about to ask who, when the door behind him slid open and another strange alien stepped through. Ravarian blinked as he got a good look at the being. It stood nearly as tall as Quisilia, wore light grey armor with the same Elder emblem that was on Senorium’s armor in the center of the chest. It was similar in protection to Zararch combat gear; offering protection, but prioritizing maneuverability over everything else.

The most obvious feature was the hood that covered the alien’s head, and within it were two glowing blue eyes, and the outline of a smile underneath it. A sniper rifle of some kind nearly as tall as Ravarian was strapped to his back, and a similarly large pistol was at his waist. The conclusion seemed obvious after he had processed it a few seconds. Another one of the Creator’s Chosen as she’d called them, this one a severely altered Vitakarian it seemed.

“I do hope you have the Zar’Chon suitably protected,” the alien drawled, the voice already oozing with sarcasm and dryness. “I would hate for him to go insane from a simple conversation.”

“I would be more concerned for your own sanity,” Quisilia answered, stepping forward. “I do not recall inviting you here. How exactly did you know?”

The alien spread his hands in front of him, a Human gesture that was the equivalent to ‘not my fault’. “I only follow the orders of the _glorious_ Creator bitch,” he said, the mockery catching Ravarian off-guard. Hearing an Ethereal being referred to in such a way was _unheard_ of. “And her glorious Creatorness has decreed that I be her representative in this meeting which is no doubt going to be important, so take it up with her if you’ve got a problem.”

“Who _are_ you?” Ravarian demanded.

“Ah, right,” the alien said smugly. “Where are my manners? I am officially known as Venadiar, Watcher of the Elders, and Hunter of the Creator.” He sniffed indignantly. “And yes, it is an idiotically long name no one ever remembers. But I don’t like it, so just call me Dave, or simply my title as Hunter, I could really care less.”

Ravarian’s lips twitched. “I suppose you two get along.” Excellent. Now there was another mini-Quisilia who seemed to be just as bad of a troll. ‘Dave the Hunter’ indeed. Still, he had no doubt that this Hunter was extremely dangerous. He didn’t appear to be psionic, but he supposed looks could be deceiving. And he’d alluded to Quisilia making sure he was ‘protected’.

“Well, since I’m here, what are we waiting on?” The Hunter asked, striding over to the haptic projector. “I don’t have all day, and I have things to do.”

“You can postpone your hunting trips,” Quisilia said, amused. “I can promise this will be more interesting than killing some Mutons.”

The Hunter pulled out his pistol and appraised it. “As long as I finally get to go to Earth, I’m fine with that. I’m rather tired of the same damn planets over and over. I could kill pretty much everything in my sleep, aside from the ‘prohibited units’.” He moved his head in a strange way, and had Ravarian not known better, he would have assumed he was rolling his eyes. The Hunter took on a wistful tone. “I’m rather interested in Earth. The Humans seem to be a fascinating species, much more so than everyone else.”

Ravarian was not sure if that was an insult or not. “What exactly is your purpose?” Ravarian asked. “Despite your title, I doubt the Creator has many enemies.”

The Hunter snorted. “Please, everyone hates the bitch. Find me someone who doesn’t, but the difference is she’s too high on her own self-importance to notice, in addition to being a fucking lunatic. So yeah, I don’t get many actual orders. So I spend a lot of my time just talking to the poor souls who get sent to her. _Fascinating_ stuff, especially from the Humans. Shame they only last slightly longer than Vitakara.”

He tapped his head, giving an eerie smile. “Can’t talk to people long unfortunately, most can’t take it. As for what I do the rest of the time, well…” he lifted the pistol, looking at it fondly. “I go hunting. You name it, I’ve likely killed it. Well, except Sargons and the ‘special’ units. Ethereals get annoyed when you shoot their pets.” Another indignant sniff. “As if they can’t just grow another one. Cheapskates.”

Despite indications to the contrary, Ravarian was wondering if the Hunter was actually saner than the Creator. He was definitely not normal, in more ways than one, and anyone who spoke with such bluntness to and about Ethereals was obviously not thinking clearly. “Well, you finish up…whatever you were doing,” the Hunter said with a wave. “I’ll just stand over here until things actually start.”

Ravarian shook his head, and turned back to the projector, bringing it up as he tried to focus on what he was going to present. It likely couldn’t get more outlandish than this.

***

_Blacksite 009 – ID: “The Prism” – Overseer: The Battlemaster_

The Battlemaster was rather surprised that Macula had come to speak with him before the meeting itself. He was an Ethereal who tended to keep to his own affairs, and had a standing tendency to intentionally avoid Collective matters. The Battlemaster was aware that Macula wasn’t impressed with the alien species, and isolated himself performing deep recon for the Imperator in the inner galaxy.

“I have never bothered to visit this place before,” Macula mused, looking down into the empty box in the idling state. His voice was unchanged from the last time they had spoke nearly three years ago, a deep thoughtful tone with touches of condescension in it. “It perhaps might be worth an experimental run.”

“You would likely fail,” the Battlemaster said bluntly. “The Prism is not tailored towards receiving or simulating telepathic attacks.”

“Please,” an obsidian blade flew towards one of Macula’s gloved hands. “My telepathy is not something that I need to practice. I’ve had plenty of that lately, but I feel my combat skills have deteriorated as a result.”

“If you wish,” the Battlemaster said, not caring one way or another. While Macula’s reasons were rooted in his own arrogance, he would never discourage practice. Macula was one of the more interesting in the Imperator’s entourage. The Imperator had never said where he’d come from, nor had Macula bothered to answer that.

Some things were obvious, his skill with telepathy and preference for short bladed weapons meant he was almost certainly part of the Division of Shadows, but other than his name, nothing else was ever said. His attire didn’t help either. The Battlemaster didn’t know if Macula was trying to be a Battlemaster, Overmind, or Shadow, since his attire had elements of all three.

The silver armor was extremely limited, only covering the legs, arms, and chest. The rest was a blue alloy weave which was under the armor, and the main component of the gloves. Then he also had a cape that was identical to the Battlemaster’s except the color was a deep blue, and the material wove around the chest like a shawl; moderately obscuring the chest armor.

Unlike most Ethereals, Macula did not have a helmet, but his head was obscured by a hood exactly like the Overmind’s, one that hid the face entirely except for the glowing orange eyes. The look was certainly unique for an Ethereal, but it didn’t seem practical for open combat. Knowing Macula, he had likely made it just because he looked good in it.

“I assume you didn’t come just to inquire about my Blacksite,” the Battlemaster said, walking up beside him, easily towering over the smaller Ethereal.

“All business, you never change,” Macula chided. “Perhaps I just wanted to say hello before you inevitably reveal what your plan for Earth is. There are exciting developments in store, Battlemaster, ones that extend far beyond one little planet.”

“Do tell,” the Battlemaster said, looking down. “You have found another inner galactic species?”

“Considering the state those species are currently in, I’d say we have little to worry about,” Macula said. “All trying to subvert and one-up each other, at some point they will enter open warfare with each other, and our time to strike will be then. They will not expect us.”

The Battlemaster was unsurprised at the news. “It appears the galaxy never changes. Peace is only temporary.”

“That’s only part of the story,” Macula amended. “The situation is more delicate than that, and for now the Imperator wants Earth handled first. I admit, I didn’t believe this venture would prove to be so interesting. Who would have thought a little primitive species would be such an issue?”

“Even with our limited incursion, we underestimated them,” the Battlemaster agreed. “As it stands now, they are highlighting the issues of our own strategies and military. They have proven useful.”

“But not a challenge, I suspect,” Macula sighed. “No matter. Whatever you have planned, I am rather interested to see what the future holds.”

“I am curious,” the Battlemaster inquired. “You wanted to assist in this. Why?”

“Because Humans are new, and my experience with them is non-existent,” he answered with a wave of one hand. “The Vitakara are laughably simple, the Sectoids are boring, and the Andromedons are too paranoid to have any sort of experimentation done to them. With Humans there are no such restrictions. While the Synthesized War certainly was our defeat, there was something I miss about killing thousands of thralls with my blades and mind alone.”

The Battlemaster could empathize with that, even as little sense it made logically. He could not deny the satisfaction of combat and victory. “There will be no shortage of that, but our strategy must be subtle as well. The phase of simple combat has passed. I approved your request because you can think strategically and are capable of subtlety. Both will be needed.”

“A challenge I cannot refuse,” Macula said easily, in a mock bow. “But you have been fighting them longest. I would prefer your honest opinion. How much of a threat do these Humans actually pose?”

The Battlemaster thought for a moment. “They are only as large of a threat as we allow them.”

“And if we allow them to become one?”

“Their numbers are few, their territory is limited, and they cannot reproduce quickly,” the Battlemaster said. “But they can adapt quickly, they are innovative, and they are capable of using the Gift. Should they become a threat, they will be dangerous indeed. And if Aegis is fully on their side, our chances lower drastically. At that point the Overmind would be needed.”

“Interesting,” Macula mused. “More than I expected. And not Deusian?”

“We do not want Earth destroyed,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “I will save the Reaper for when she is needed. The Overmind will be sufficient, and I doubt we will reach this point.”

“As do I,” Macula said smugly, turning away as he began walking towards the internal Gateway. “I do not believe there is any point in delaying, Battlemaster. I am curious what you have planned, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to show up late, would it?”

The Battlemaster agreed. The sooner they started this, the sooner the next phase could fully begin. ADVENT would likely attack in America within the next few days, and their next attack on Korea would likely follow soon after. At the same time, the rest of the Ethereals needed to establish themselves. Much needed to be done.

No point in delaying, as Macula said.

***

_Desolan, War Camp 402_

Fortunately, the list of possible suspects that could be behind this was fairly short. There were ten in total, two guards, one instructor, two medical professionals, and five teachers who worked with the youngling Mutons. Nartha would not have been surprised if there were at least some, or all of them working together.

Cells tended to operate like that, with none of the individual ones knowing much about the others. If _he_ was in charge of a Muton smuggling/slave ring, he would have every single member on a need-to-know basis. They would either be assigned targets for dead drops, or they would have free reign over choosing them, but would still have dead drops. They would never actually meet another cell member.

He would also have contingencies both he and cell members knew if, say, a Zararch agent came poking around. Either some ways of alerting him, or otherwise indicating that the cell was compromised. To be safe, in a case like that he’d likely prefer to intentionally deceive the Zararch agent in question and sacrifice a less important cell member. Deters the agent, and he would be able to return to business soon.

That was how an intelligence professional, or Nulorian operative would run it.

The biggest question was _why_ they were doing this. Two possibilities existed: They were doing this to build an army, or other kind of operation where they were being compensated for gathering Mutons for some specific purpose. It was a pure business arrangement, and he would expect a well-run operation if that was the case, as well as professional cell members.

The other was that they were doing it because of the perceived moral wrongdoing regarding the species. He was well aware that usage of Mutons was considered slavery by some, and that might be enough to convince some of them to act. He had never really cared too much about the issue. The Mutons were barely sapient, and all complaining about it caused was getting the attention of the Zararch.

It just seemed like a waste of time. There were much more important matters than a species of idiot brutes. The Sargons didn’t seem to be like that though, but he knew that was because they had been specifically modified, so they didn’t technically count. If this was the motivation of these people, then his job was likely going to be easier. Idealistic people made mistakes.

The youngling schools were one of the more interesting parts of the War Camps. It was here where they were conditioned and prepared for the harsher parts of training. Basic speech, pattern recognition, basic firearm safety, basic physical training, everything was taught here. It was essentially a school of nothing but drill instructors.

As a result, the teachers were Vitakarian, Dath’Haram, or Borelian. Borelians generally taught weapons training and physical education, and for once this was one area where male Borelians actually dominated the field as opposed to their female counterparts. Dath’Haram exclusively taught language and pattern recognition, as well as some basic mathematics, though that was optional. Vitakarians could do either, and they were the minority of teachers.

He showed his identification to the guards at the door, and they stepped aside as he strode into the massive hallway. It was extremely wide, due to the fact that Muton classes marched in rows five wide and ten long, and they never deviated from this. The main hallways were large enough for two full classes to march past each other, with some room for the rare bystander at the side. The entire building was built for pure function. Hard angles, grey walls and floors, sharp white lighting, and no additional decorations of any kind.

Nartha walked over to classroom seven, where one suspect Dath’merina’haramal was stationed. He’d singled her out because of her name, that she was a Dath’Haram, and she’d been working roughly since the first known incident. There were too many red flags here to be ignored. That she’d kept the prefix _Dath_ instead of _Runi_ or _Zar_ meant that she was technically a civilian likely from the Council of Dath’Haram, since teachers fell directly under their authority.

That was already suspicious. Nartha was surprised that that was even allowed, especially since of all the races, the Dath’Haram had, on average, put on record the issues with the treatment of the Muton species far more than anyone else. Actually, they were the only ones to publically hold any sort of stance on the matter. They never gained any traction, but it was always a Dath’Haram behind the latest moral outrage. That the entire species was incredibly pacifistic, far more than Vitakarians, was another oddity. The question of why a Dath’Haram would not officially join the military, but actively work on grooming soldiers was highly suspicious.

So he stayed to the back of the class behind Merina as she spoke to the assembled Muton younglings, and he simply observed the class. She typically dealt with classes ready for graduation to the next stage, so by now the Mutons were extremely disciplined. The younglings really didn’t look too different from their adult counterparts. Their skin was a little pinker, and there were less wrinkles on their faces, but there was no mistaking their species.

For five-year olds, they were already fairly strong. They were about the size of a Human teenager, and far bulkier on average. They didn’t wear armor, not yet, but they wore brown padding and thick boots and pants. Their arms were bare, and each one was assigned a mock plasma rifle which shot out little plastic pellets, which did go at speeds fast enough to hurt, but not puncture Muton skin or kill.

His understanding was that was part of a game, where instructors had classes fight each other to begin preparing them for the war games later. It was taught as a game, but not for fun. Each youngling was graded and scored based on performance, and their rank rose or decreased as a result. The highest ranking Mutons were at the front of the class, the latter in the back.

Nartha did find it impressive that whoever Merina asked a question, all of them answered at once. They were simple questions, ones with yes or no answers, but the response was immediate and always correct. Their voices weren’t even high-pitched, which he was ultimately not surprised at. Definitely a species of soldiers, he couldn’t think of a better suited one.

“All of you have performed adequately today,” Merina finished. “Dismissed!” All the class displayed their rifles in a form of a salute, he guessed, then marched out in a very orderly fashion. He suspected there were some Human teachers that wished they could teach Mutons. Humans were rather disorderly sometimes. Especially the children.

“Highly disciplined,” he complimented, stepping forward. “I didn’t know they were capable of doing that.”

The Dath’Haram woman bared her pointed teeth at him, their version of a smile. “You would be surprised. They catch on quickly.”

“So it seems,” he agreed. “You are clearly skilled at your job. I work with Mutons occasionally, and I might guess that the younglings are smarter than the adults sometimes.”

Merina put a haptic pad into her bag slowly. “I am not surprised at that, actually. Mutons don’t survive the War Camps without some kind of psychological damage.”

Good. Her responses were useful. “You would know more than I,” he conceded. “I’ve only just arrived.”

“Really?” She asked, closing her bag, looking up thoughtfully. “What do you do? No one comes here just because they can.”

“I’m from the Runianarch,” he lied with an easy smile. “I had to speak with the Sargon about new batches of Mutons. While he figures that out, I decided to take a tour. The War Camps are something even we don’t see that often, yet it is an essential part of the Collective military.”

Merina was deliberately keeping her expression clear. “There are reasons for that. Ones you’ve no doubt seen. Or if not now, you will.”

He cocked his head in apparent interest. “If you don’t mind, what? Everything seems to be up to standards. Even the children aren’t disrupted. I’ve been pleasantly surprised.”

Merina sighed. “True. The Collective keeps things running smoothly. But sometimes sending off these younglings is just draining,” she motioned to the door. “By the end of it, at least half of those younglings will be dead. And the survivors conditioned beyond recognition-“ she suddenly stopped, realizing she’d probably said too much. “But it is necessary for preserving the integrity of our army.” She finished.

What was it with these people being bad liars? Regardless, he had plenty to work with now. He let some concern in his voice. “I’m aware the situation isn’t ideal, but having half those younglings eventually die is unreasonably steep. That seems like a gross misuse of resources. Are you not exaggerating?”

“Ha,” she chuckled darkly. “If anything, I’m being generous. You haven’t gone into the Filter, have you? Go there and then ask if I’m _exaggerating_.”

“Apologies,” Nartha interrupted. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, it’s fine,” she relented, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “Not your fault, and you’re at least somewhat concerned with it. Whatever way you look at this, it just seems like something is just _wrong_ with it. If half our trainees are dying, maybe something needs to be changed.”

“I will have to look into this,” he promised earnestly, frowning. “The Sargon will be providing an explanation to me.”

She looked at him with new interest. “I wish you luck with that, really. Most just ignore the problem.”

He sniffed. “Ignoring problems is why there are certain problems in the Collective. I will not do the same here.”

“In that case,” she paused. “Well, if you begin making some headway, please let me know. I’m Dath’merina’haramal.”

“Runi’nartha’vitiary,” he answered in return. He would need to forge a record for that in case she bothered to look. She wouldn’t find anything at best, or would find there was a Nartha in the Zararch. However, Nartha wasn’t an uncommon name, which was why he kept it. Better there be many results than an odd few.

As she walked away, and he exited the room to go talk to the next teacher, he figured that had been a fruitful talk. She was definitely still a suspect, but now one who was more inclined to listen to him. Should he play this right, if she was involved, she would lead him to who was in charge. If she wasn’t, then he had a contact here in the future.

She was perfect for being turned against the Collective, but depending on how the rest of the operation went, she might have to be sacrificed. Maybe he could give her to the Sargon once he made contact with the actual cell leader; there was more than enough circumstantial evidence for an arrest, and a Sectoid mind-probe would confirm one way or another.

But that was an inelegant solution. Right now, everything was on track.

***

_Blacksite 007 – ID: “Watcher” – Overseer: Quisilia_

At last, all of them were here for the meeting. The more Ethereals arrived, the more Ravarian felt out of place in more ways than one. He was unquestionably the smallest one in the room, an unusual feeling since he was tall even among Vitakara, and that these Ethereals, and the Hunter for that matter, could likely kill him with a single thought or gesture.

It felt like a minefield where if he said the wrong thing…well, that would be the end for him, despite Quisilia’s assurances.

First Caelior had arrived, which wasn’t too bad. If nothing else, Ravarian was familiar with him and how he worked. At the moment they had a somewhat working relationship, and Caelior at least knew he was of some use. Ravarian swore that the Hunter had a death wish since his first greeting was calling Caelior “Little Storm”, which naturally enraged the young Elder.

So Quisilia had kindly responded by throwing one of his knives at the Hunter, impaling him in the chest. Ravarian had been stunned at the overreaction, as that was likely a fatal wound, but the Hunter had just sighed and said. “Yes, yes, I won’t do that again. I get the message.” And proceeded to pull it out with barely any trouble. He’d apparently noticed Ravarian staring, since he gave him an eerie smile soon after.

The Battlemaster and the Ethereal Macula had arrived soon after, the latter Ravarian was still unsure about. He didn’t talk much, and had yet to address him directly, but from his conversations with the Hunter, he got the impression that this Ethereal didn’t really respect anything that wasn’t an Ethereal. It didn’t even seem like he was toying with the Hunter like Quisilia would, but simply considered them an amusing distraction at best, complete with derision and patronization.

The Hunter didn’t seem to care, and continued his irreverent streak by taking his own jabs at Macula, ones that Ravarian didn’t fully understand, but actually seemed to make Macula pause, and look at the Hunter with a little more…not quite concern, but it was definitely something more than disinterest.

If the Hunter worked for the Creator, he likely knew quite a lot about the Ethereals that even Ravarian didn’t have any idea of.

And with that there was already plenty of tension in the air. Quisilia attempted to defuse the situation, but it wasn’t helping that Caelior was less than impressed with Macula, even if he didn’t say so. Nor did the Battlemaster seem to overly care either way.

Then Nebulan had arrived, and that had eased tensions. Of all the Ethereals, she seemed one of the more respected ones. She wore red robes with exposed arms, similar to the Ravaged One if his uniform had been pristine, but unlike nearly every other Ethereal, she had no helmet, nor any other means of hiding her face.

Ethereal heads were interesting. They were smaller than he’d realized, but rounded in a similar way to Vitakarian and Human ones, with slits in their faces where the nose would be, they had no visible ears that he could see, but they did have lipless mouths that stretched across their lower faces. What was extremely strange was that they didn’t really have chins, but the mouth was only slightly elevated from the neck itself.

It made him wonder if at one point the Ethereals hadn’t had mouths at all, and it was just an addition they had made later. It certainly _looked_ like the head and neck were almost one complete organ, and the neck _was_ longer than most species. Along the neck were visible cords and depressions, that rose and fall as the Ethereal breathed. Ravarian tried not to stare, but it admittedly _was_ the first time he’d seen an unmasked Ethereal. At least he wasn’t looking at her fiery eyes.

Nebulan had actually greeted him, and they’d had a pleasant conversation about basic updates before the final Ethereal had shown up: Isomnum.

Just from looking at him, Ravarian knew he was going to be both insufferable, and cause problems for everyone else. He wore similar attire to Macula, save the grandiose cape and hood. But instead the helmet was close to a death mask of an Ethereal, and portrayed the silver face of the Ethereal without a mouth. It was clearly tight to Isomnum’s actual head, and covered the entirety of the head and neck, as well as moving as easily as if it were an actually functioning head. Truth be told it was extremely unsettling, and even with Quisilia protecting him from the worst of it, he felt the urge to get away _now_ before he risked losing his mind.

Then the Hunter in all his infinite wisdom decided to speak. “And the grand edgelord has finally arrived.”

If Ravarian could have facepalmed at that, he would have. Humans had some excellent ways of displaying emotion. Isomnum had just looked over at the Hunter, who began blinking rapidly and started backing up, muttering to himself and reaching for his pistol. “Do not ruin the mind of the Creator’s pet,” Macula warned. “As insufferable as he is, she would not be pleased.”

“If the insect speaks to me again, that he speaks for the depraved Creator will mean nothing,” Isomnum said, his voice reminding Ravarian of the Ravaged One, a combination of vibrations and combined high and low pitches that had the result of inducing headaches in the ones he was speaking to. It conjured images of ancient monstrosities and layered screams of the void.

He sincerely hoped Isomnum didn’t speak much during the meeting.

“Enough,” the Battlemaster ordered, commanding them to gather around the haptic projector. “We will begin now.”

So they did.

“The first phase of taking Earth has begun,” the Battlemaster said, bringing up a hologram of Earth. “The purpose of this was to determine the extent of ADVENT and XCOM’s ability to wage an effective war against us. They are adapting, and skilled. It is unlikely they will fail to adapt as the war progresses, but I have determined that it is unlikely their threat will decrease. ADVENT is worthy of being subverted, as the Imperator originally suggested.”

“As should be anticipated,” Nebulan said. “The Imperator does not make idle suggestions.”

“That needed to be determined first,” the Battlemaster continued flatly. “Regardless, the war is ongoing, and it is time to move ADVENT to where we want them. They are expecting a continuation of the same strategy. Major attacks on cities. These will continue, but our reach will be far larger. Earth is composed of seven continents, six of which are relevant,” said continents were highlighted yellow on the blue display. “From here I will divide these into our respective spheres of influence.”

“Imagine that,” the Hunter said. “The great Battlemaster giving up his authority.”

“No.” The Battlemaster disputed. “Let me be perfectly clear: _I_ am in command of this operation. Before launching any operations, you will _inform_ myself, Quisilia, or Zar’Chon Ravarian, and only after I give _my_ approval will you be allowed to proceed. There are _no_ exceptions, is that understood?”

A few of the Ethereals, Caelior and Nebulan, nodded. That was not sufficient for the Battlemaster. “Say you understand, or leave.”

“Understood, Battlemaster,” everyone said, with various levels of resignation. Ravarian was relieved to know that. The Battlemaster was still without a doubt the most reasonable Ethereal. Under him there was a much lower chance of stupidity taking place.

“With that understood, here is where we stand.” The image zoomed to the Americas. “My sphere will be North America. Over the coming months it will become a battlefield where a large part of the conflict will take place. America holds a major cultural place in Humanity, and they will fight hard to keep it. Within days they will launch a counterattack, and it is entirely possible we will lose ground. This will be expected. Until our final time has come, this is a part of the world we will both win and lose often.”

“Believing the Humans will win will make it a reality,” Isomnum noted. “There is little point in entertaining their insignificant fantasies of rebellion.”

“With Aegis still aiding XCOM, that is exactly what we should do,” Quisilia cautioned. “You may have forgotten what exactly Aegis can do, Isomnum, but I have not. XCOM will not escalate this conflict, but this works both ways. They have more to lose doing it to us, but we must not forget that provoking Aegis will yield the same result on an admittedly smaller scale.”

“Then why bring me here?” Isomnum growled. “I will not restrain myself for the sake of a few billion alien lives. Aegis is a coward who will never kill one of us. The Humans and our thralls are insignificant.”

“Some thralls would argue otherwise,” the Hunter muttered under his breath.

“You are deluded if you actually believe that,” Quisilia chided. “Aegis won’t kill you, but I doubt he wouldn’t stand in the way of blasting your shrinking brains out, while he keeps you trapped in a stasis field. I doubt you’ll be laughing if that happens.”

“Quiet,” the Battlemaster interrupted, lifting a hand. “Isomnum, your role will be explained shortly. Suffice to say, Quisilia is right. I do not want to force Aegis to pick a side, not yet. We cannot rely on our abilities forever. If we cannot defeat the Humans with some degree of convention, we are useless against the inner galactic species, much less the Synthesized. Now…”

The image shifted to South America. “Zar’Chon, inform us of the current situation.”

His turn. “Yes, Battlemaster,” all attention on him, he pointed to the continent. “South America is in a curious and unstable position. ADVENT only has control of roughly half of it, the bulk concentrated in Brazil,” said country turned red, along with other ADVENT-controlled countries. “Right now Brazil is controlled by Marshal Luana, one of the more heavy-handed and dictatorial leaders of ADVENT. She is a warmonger, arrogant and easily manipulated.”

A hologram of the Marshal appeared. “ADVENT has at some point attempted to curtail her authority,” Ravarian continued. “But their efforts have been ineffective, or she is ignoring them. Either way, her actions, which include launching several invasions of other countries with scant evidence, has put every non-ADVENT country on notice, specifically Argentina and Chile.”

Once those countries were highlighted in green, he continued. “Officially, they are doing nothing except refusing ADVENT membership. Unofficially, they are backing a small terrorist organization led by a certain Konstantine Volikov, unofficially referred to as the ‘Reapers.’”

“A melodramatic name,” Macula noted dryly. “And uncreative.”

“Volikov apparently dislikes the name,” Ravarian shrugged. “But it is born as a result of their actions. The Grim Reaper is one of most well-known Human icons, transcending cultures and languages. The Reaper is Death, and Death cannot be killed or stopped. Having Volikov and his people be compared to it is nothing to scoff at.”

He briefly paused. “Many people have tried to kill Volikov, and failed. The Reapers leave body counts in the double digits with each attack, and reportedly have yet to suffer a casualty. The situation is tense there, and if ADVENT knew there was alien influence, they would annex the region. But if we were to act through the Reapers, and by extension, the Argentinian and Chilean governments, we could prepare the region to resist ADVENT, as well as weaken it.”

“This Volikov,” Nebulan said, looking at him. “Tell me about him.”

“A potential problem if we underestimate him,” Ravarian warned. “He’s an expert assassin, marksman, survivalist, and close-quarters specialist. And this is what we’ve been able to learn. He’s managed to evade both the Russian and American intelligence agencies, has penetrated and killed multiple members of third world countries, and those under authoritarian regimes. He does not view either ADVENT, or us, in a positive light. At best he considers us equally as bad.”

“And you think he is actually a valid opportunity?” Macula asked skeptically.

“All Volikov knows of us is what ADVENT has shown,” Ravarian reminded him. “He has never met an alien to his knowledge, and if we were to present ourselves as a reasonable party, and assist him in his goals, I am certain he would be inclined to at least listen to us. However, he will not tolerate dishonesty from us, and has an uncanny ability to figure out if someone is lying.”

“Which is why you will contact him, Nebulan,” the Battlemaster ordered. “I do not care how you do it, but you will ensure he is on our side. No mind control, and no lies, those are your only two restrictions.”

“Why handicap ourselves?” Macula asked curiously.

“Because at some point, we will not be able to solve our problems by brute forcing them,” the Battlemaster answered. “I want Volikov _on our side_. And I want him to do it of his own free will, not because one of you made him. Not only is this risky, since Volikov would likely have a contingency in place now that he is aware of our capabilities, but you don’t know how to think like a Human. ADVENT would determine alien influence much faster if you did this the fast way. You will handicap yourself, and if you are not smart enough to figure out how to do otherwise, then leave and someone else will do it for you.”

“It has been a while since I have attempted something like this,” Nebulan mused. “I will ensure that Volikov inevitably works for us, using only my other talents, of course. I assume we can bring our own personnel as well?”

“As long as I have approved it,” the Battlemaster nodded. “For you, Nebulan, the fewer, the better.”

“I will not need many,” she said. “I already have an idea of how to enter.”

“I assume you will be using your Asaru persona?” The Battlemaster asked.

Ravarian didn’t know what that was, but Nebulan gave a single nod. “Of course.”

“That is settled,” the Battlemaster confirmed. “The Asian sphere will be overseen by Caelior. Korea is where ADVENT is currently preparing, and it will likely need to be taken next. After this, China is a problem that will need to be dealt with sooner than later.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Caelior stated. “I will lead my forces to victory as I have before.”

The Hunter made the motion like he was rolling his eyes. “You had one victory. Don’t let it go to your head, Little Storm.”

“One more smart comment and this blade will go through your-“ Quisilia began before he was interrupted by Macula.

“There are simpler ways of subduing the simple-minded, Quisilia,” he said, amused. “The Hunter will not trouble us for the remainder of this discussion.”

Ravarian waited for something to happen. A few seconds stretched out and he glanced over to the Hunter to see what he thought, and the Hunter had one hand raised, mouth partially open as he appeared to be starting to speak, but he didn’t move further. After a few more seconds, Ravarian confirmed that the Hunter wasn’t moving at _all_. He glanced back towards Macula, who was returning his attention to the Battlemaster. For all intents and purposes, it looked like he had somehow frozen the Hunter mid-sentence.

Interesting.

“Quisilia, you will go to Australia and end this resistance,” the Battlemaster continued. “Our own current forces have proven insufficient, and our own operations are being impeded at a higher rate than is acceptable. Kill all of them, and bring any XCOM agents back alive, as well as any other figures of note.”

“With pleasure,” Quisilia said easily. “I could use a distraction. Hopefully they will provide at least some challenge.”

“Zar’Chon, now explain the situation in Africa,” the Battlemaster said, the image changing to the continent in question.

“Of course, Battlemaster,” he nodded. “If any of you were not aware, there was a defection of several thousand ADVENT soldiers and personnel, led by Helsa Betos, a former Marshal of ADVENT. Their reasons boiled down to ethics. They felt ADVENT was abusing its power and were too harsh against civilians and perceived enemies. Betos in particular is extremely naïve and idealistic, though her beliefs about ADVENT are not unfounded, and we are extremely fortunate that she had no contact with any of our own forces, else she might have stayed out of obligation to defending her species.”

He paused. “But as it stands now, she is our gateway into control of Africa. Her likely goal is the African states all united as one force that is against ADVENT. In practice, this will likely be impossible without an African intercontinental war. The region is extremely volatile, something that most Humans are surprisingly ignorant of. Africa in general is ignored by most of the world, and as a result much goes unchecked.”

“So what do you recommend?” Nebulan asked.

“Betos has made contact with Nigeria,” Ravarian said. “We need to contact her, and assist in helping her unite the others, because if she tries to do it herself, she will fail. Barring that, we could use Betos as a cover to turn the various states into puppets, under our direct control. By the time ADVENT realizes what is happening, the region will likely be compromised. If we continuously supply Betos with our technology, and she passes it along, Africa now becomes a more dangerous place for ADVENT to try and invade.”

“You will contact Betos, Macula,” the Battlemaster said. “Do what you wish with the African states, but I want Betos on our side. Treat her as an ally, alien as she is, and no more or less. The constraints I stated for Nebulan apply to you as well.”

“Noted.” Macula said dryly.

“Isomnum, when the time is right, you will attack Moscow,” the Battlemaster said, looking towards him. “I have no intention of restraining you, but you will not operate outside of where you have been ordered. Russia is a place considered secure for ADVENT, and the Russians are recognized as a tough and hard people. Stereotypes are not always accurate, but they work to our advantage here. The sight of their leaders exposed to…you, will shake the morale of the entirety of ADVENT.”

“Then I await my time,” Isomnum said simply.

“That is the overview,” the Battlemaster said. “It is being put into effect immediately. Begin your preparations, the second phase begins now. Dismissed.”


	23. Research and Engineering VIII

 

_The Praesidium, Tactical Research and Demonstration Room 9_

The influx of soldiers was a welcome sight after several months of continually suffering losses. It had taken some time for Jackson to put together a comprehensive list of elite soldiers and pilots, in addition to the recent additions from the PRIEST Program which had initially thrown a wrench into the selection process. But now that was done, and their numbers were higher than ever.

The Commander stood before a group of twenty of the best men and women the world currently had to offer, all of them now in standard black XCOM fatigues and standing expectantly as he prepared to give them a proper introduction to XCOM and the strange aspects that came with it. This wouldn’t be his only orientation; there were three other groups scheduled, and although Shen was doing his own one for the new MEC soldiers, he would handle everyone else.

It was going to be interesting to see their reactions. He anticipated there was a lot they were going to need to get used to.

“Welcome,” he began. “You are all aware of who I am, so I won’t repeat myself. You were selected because you display some measure of intelligence, so I expect you to use it here. This is a relatively small organization compared to most, so I tend to take a more active role, and in XCOM, the most vital people are soldiers. Our science and engineering teams can create weapons and technology beyond what you can likely imagine, but you will be the ones using it. No one else can fulfill your role.”

He had the attention of each one. Good. “Each of you will have access to the best weapons and armor currently developed by the Human race, and will be provided with options as how to outfit yourselves. Each of you have different backgrounds, which we have taken into account when assigning your specializations, but you know your own strengths and weaknesses best. You are expected to know how to use the equipment you have, and if you don’t know right now, learn. Ignorance will get you killed.”

There were a few nods at that, along with some side whispers of agreement. “Now for the reason we’re all here: the Aliens. How many of you have fought them before?”

Roughly half of them raised their hands. “Good, several of you.” The Commander nodded, tapping a button on his prosthetic, and bringing up a hologram of a Muton from the holoprojector beside him. “However, I suspect the majority of your experience has been limited to only a few alien types, and some have none aside from what they’ve investigated for themselves. That isn’t going to cut it here. Name an alien, and we’ve killed it.”

He gestured at the hologram. “Mutons? The regular soldiers are little more than cannon fodder to us. They aren’t the ones we worry about. We fight the Elites and Berserkers,” the hologram shifted at his tap and an Elite replaced it. All of the holograms were scaled correctly, and he saw the eyes of some of them blink as they saw just how big an Elite was.

“These are the kinds of aliens we fight and kill,” the Commander continued. “And yes, that is their actual size. You need to learn how to kill it, and the secret to that is working as a squad; who that squad entails doesn’t matter, all that does is that you leverage your abilities to work together. I expect all of you know this, but I’m going to repeat it so you understand that you aren’t going to kill _this_ -“ he nodded towards the hologram. “On your own.”

Another round of nods. “Floaters, Cyberdisks, Sectopods, Lurainian, Chryssalids, there are aliens you likely won’t have heard of before today. This is expected, and to an extent that is intentional. You are some of the privileged few who know more about the extent of the alien threat than most.” He paused. “There is a lot that we have not told ADVENT, about the aliens themselves and our own projects for stopping them.”

There were a few moments of silence, before one soldier slowly raised his hand. Cole, he believed the name was. “Respectfully, Commander, why not? Doesn’t that hurt our chances?”

Well, here was where it was going to get interesting. “No, it doesn’t,” he answered bluntly. “What ADVENT does or does not know has very little impact on our victory or not. ADVENT needs to bring the world to order, and we can focus on how to actually kill the aliens. But you do have a valid question, and the short answer is that I do not fully trust Chancellor Vyandar, nor certain people in ADVENT.”

That got some furrowed eyebrows and murmurs. “Why?” Rebecca Carr asked skeptically.

The Commander smiled slightly. “Because I’m the one who put her where she is today, and warned that if she ever tried abusing her power I would kill her.” Ah, now there were the sharp intakes of breath. “Chancellor Vyandar is a useful ally,” the Commander continued unabated. “But people are right to be suspicious of her past. Prior to her appointment, she was the Director of an organization called EXALT, a conspiracy devoted to influencing world events. For a time they fought against us, but I convinced her that our interests were best aligned than opposed. If you want the longer version, there are plenty who are familiar with the situation. One of the family heads of EXALT is here now, in fact.”

Well, he had successfully managed to render the majority speechless. Funny how that whole incident seemed so much smaller in the grand scheme of the war. He had practically just admitted that there had been a world conspiracy that XCOM had fought, beaten, and now had turned to their side. “So…” one of the soldiers said hesitantly. “XCOM is actually controlling ADVENT?”

“No.” The Commander shook his head. “I intend to keep XCOM apolitical in regards to world affairs. Chancellor Vyandar has done great things for humanity already, and I expect she will continue to. However, should her goals change, or she attempt to remove us, we will not allow that to happen.”

There were a decent number of soldiers that now looked rather uncomfortable as to how much was really going on behind the scenes. They would get used to it. “If you’re concerned about the possibility of us ever fighting ADVENT, that is minimal at best,” the Commander reassured them. “But our job is the preservation of Humanity from the alien threat at any cost, and Humans can pose just as large of a threat to our species as any alien. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Commander!” They shouted.

“Good,” he said neutrally. “Before we continue onto several other topics ADVENT is not aware of, there is something that needs to be addressed. You are aware of it, as you signed the papers, but I doubt it is clear to you what is meant by genetic modification. It’s a word on paper, and without context it might not sound like something to be fully concerned about. In truth, it isn’t, but it’s important to understand why I’ve made certain genetic modifications mandatory.”

This had been a decision he’d come to with less reluctance than he’d thought he’d have. Originally he’d preferred to give soldiers the choice of genetic modification, since some did have personal or other issues with it, but that was a luxury that couldn’t be afforded now. They had the MELD stockpiles, and the baseline Human wasn’t going to cut it much longer. They needed to push every advantage they had on the aliens, and having both a small army of unmodified Humans and excess MELD was not something they could waste.

While he expected some objections at first, he felt the complaints would die once they saw just how improved they actually became. With that in mind, he continued speaking. “My job is to keep you alive. The aliens are more advanced than us, more numerous, and often more powerful. We have ways of mitigating this through weapons and armor, but that isn’t good enough anymore.”

He let his gaze sweep the room. “Dead soldiers are a reality of war, but that doesn’t mean I will ever write any off as simply expendable. I want you kept alive, if for no other reason than that there is another soldier to fight the aliens. You need to be better than you already are, and that is where genetic modification comes into play. How many of you actually read that section about genetic modification?”

A few raised hands, more than he’d expected to be honest. “It’s what would be considered an invasive procedure. It’s not without its changes, some more extreme than others.” He pointed to his own golden-rimmed eyes. “However, the tradeoffs are significant. A fear of genetic modification is baseless and that has been proven without a doubt. I don’t want my soldiers falling ill, so you will be modified to be immune to diseases. I don’t want you missing shots, so your eyes will be enhanced so that you can hit a Muton in the head five hundred feet away with a rifle. I don’t want you bleeding out or keeling over from exhaustion, so you will have another heart inserted. Those are mandatory, and if you want to go further, you can.”

There was some apprehension in the room, but also quite a bit of awe. He could sense that they felt what he was telling them was too good to be true. “If you want your skin to heal from wounds in minutes, or leap buildings in a single bound, that is also possible.” He smirked. “You don’t have to believe me, and no, it isn’t something too good to be true. The stories you heard about XCOM soldiers jumping impossible lengths and surviving attacks that would kill anyone else are mostly true. But XCOM soldiers can and do die, and this is a step to prevent that. Questions?”

No one spoke up, so he continued, and motioned the Vitakarian from the side of the room into the light. “One thing ADVENT is unaware of is that we currently have several alien assistants working for XCOM and applying their knowledge against the Collective.” There were several whispers and clear expressions of surprise. Completely expected, and Sci’traloa’vitiary just observed the group stoically like he did for everything else.

“This is Sci’traloa’vitiary,” the Commander continued. “Currently working with Dr. Vahlen on elerium-armor integration.”

“Greetings, Humans,” Traloa said, inclining his head. “I will assure you that I currently have no plans to violently assault your species, and it is likely you will not interact with me on a regular basis, so the possibility of my sudden betrayal is significantly lower than it would be otherwise. But do remember I am making the equipment you use,” he finished with a smile.

The Commander openly smirked at that. The soldiers were trying to figure out if he was telling a joke, or was being completely serious, and he knew Traloa was enjoying this more than he should. Of all the Vitakara here, he’d adapted the best, to the point of knowing how to crack jokes, which was made funnier by how he delivered them so deadpan.

“Yes, that was a joke,” the Commander clarified, because several were looking at the alien with clear suspicion. “But that aside, we have very effective means of ensuring that the Vitakara here cooperate.”

“Quite,” Traloa agreed dryly. “It is of explosive effectiveness. Please do not stand too close if I ever turn on you.”

“Quiet,” the Commander warned good-naturedly, raising an eyebrow. “Joking aside, Traloa is an exception to the Vitakara here. Most of them are perfectly normal, and are unlikely to cause you any trouble. That being said, I would not be surprised if at least some of you had reservations about aliens being here, and a personal dislike of the aliens is understandable.”

He let his tone turn more serious. “However, you will _not_ take that out on the aliens that are helping us. Save that for the ones trying to kill you. There are some very basic rules that you need to follow in regards to them here. You do not assault, insult, or otherwise degrade the alien residents here, I don’t care if you think it’s justified, it’s not allowed. If you actually have a concern, let me know but I will also not tolerate false accusations. I _will_ have one of our telepaths read your mind, so be very careful if going that direction.”

He raised another finger. “Second: You do not interfere with whatever the aliens are doing. As they are experienced with much alien tech, their projects are sensitive and important. So don’t intentionally interrupt, sabotage, or otherwise make life difficult. This will not be tolerated. This does not mean you can’t interact with them, but do it when they’re not working.”

He sighed as he reached the third point. “Now this is a point I shouldn’t have to make, but unfortunately it is needed. Whatever devious thoughts are going through your head, you do not _flirt_ with the aliens.”

“Unless you are fully prepared for the consequences,” Traloa added blandly. The Commander resisted the urge to give him a look of disbelief. He’d thought bringing the most ‘human’ alien might put the soldiers a little more at ease. However, this was backfiring more than he liked. Now this was going to raise a _lot_ of idiotic questions all because of one idiotic incident.

Vitakara did not handle certain Human foods well. That had been made abundantly clear.

“Please ignore what he said,” the Commander said neutrally. “Now, with all those rules out of the way, all of which you are expected to follow _completely_ , there is one more thing you should be aware of.”

At least this would make them forget about the previous topic. For now. “We have been able to make fairly accurate predictions about the aliens and their plans. This is not due to our own operatives, although we do have them. The Ethereals are, ultimately, the greatest threat to our species. You have all seen the Battlemaster and Caelior, and unfortunately, those are far from the only ones, and not even the most dangerous.”

He let that settle in briefly. “We know who they are, and what they can do. We have been able to develop technology far beyond what ADVENT possesses, some of which you will become very familiar with soon. These events we would not have been able to accomplish on our own, and the reason for this is because we have another defector from the aliens.”

Right on cue, Aegis walked out. Patricia was shielding everyone in the room from his aura, so their reactions were a mix of surprise, amazement, horror, and a lot of swearing. “This is Aegis,” the Commander said over the mix of voices. “Formerly of the Ethereal Collective, and now ally to XCOM. He is one of the largest reasons we’re able to put up a reasonable fight. Right now we have kept this a secret for a multitude of reasons, but make no mistake, when the time comes, he will fight against the aliens.”

“Correct,” Aegis added. “I did not agree with the handling of your species, and I will not perpetuate the Imperator’s ignorant vision any longer. I will work with your species until the Collective leaves, or we die.”

“You have all been assigned barracks and duties,” the Commander said. “Whatever questions you have can either be answered with our archives we have compiled, or by speaking to other soldiers. There will not be much time until we launch a counterattack in America, so I would suggest you prepare as best you can. Dismissed!”

All the soldiers saluted, and walked out of the room in various stages of shock.

A good start to the day, if he did say so himself.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

The good news for Sierra was that she wasn’t going to have to go back into the tank anytime soon. She’d gotten the more unpleasant gene mods out of the way a while ago, since she’d had some suspicions it would go this way eventually. However, it wasn’t quite the same for the majority of soldiers who were going to have the modifications administered to them over the next few days.

Sierra was somewhat torn on the new mandate for specific genetic modifications. On one hand, she felt that this should be a decision each soldier made for themselves and forcing it was both immoral and unnecessary. But on the other, they needed every advantage they had, and having been extensively genetically modified herself, Sierra could see literally zero reasons to not become modified.

Seriously, the ability to laugh at bullets and jump from buildings wasn’t really something that could be matched. Being able to read the lettering of a poster from the opposite end of the room was also pretty neat. All in all, she wasn’t at all surprised the Commander had decided to mandate at least some.

Still, there were some nervous about the procedure itself, like the Egyptian Gamil Sultan, who she’d been chatting with the past half hour. “It’s not dangerous,” she shrugged. “I think anyone who’s undergone it is proof of that.”

“I _know_ that,” Gamil sighed, furrowing his eyebrows and scowling. “But I do not like the idea of being in a tank, much less having MELD pumped into me. How does that even work?”

Sierra thought back. “Depends on what kind of modifications you get. The more you have, the longer it is. Each one has to be done separately, and for most of them you are sedated.”

 _“Most_ of them!”

“Technically I think it’s all of them,” Sierra quickly clarified. “Although the eyesight one is a bit iffy. I kinda remember that. Sort of. Have you ever had eye surgery?”

“No!”

“I think it’s sort of like that,” Sierra continued. “They place a little machine on your eyes, strap it to you, and flood your eyes with MELD. Or something like that.”

His blue eyes were wide in horror now, the air around him was slightly distorted as he clearly became more nervous. What was-ah, right, he was one of the new psions who’d been cleared to be awakened. “I thought you wanted to make it seem safe? _That_ ,” he paused dramatically. “Is _not_ reassuring.”

Hm, yes, she was bad at this. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she clarified. “Really. You don’t really feel a thing. What’s a good comparison?” She paused, looking up for no reason. “Have you ever had a small mildly irritating itch in your eye? It’s sort of like that, but less so because you’re not really aware of it to the same intensity.”

“Oh,” he said, now visibly relieved. “Well, I can live with that.”

“You’re definitely one-hundred percent sedated for pretty much every other one,” she said, shifting in her seat. “They explain it before you go in. Whatever part of the body is being modified has to be exposed to MELD.” She held up her hand, the faint octagons on her skin becoming more visible in the light. “For the Iron Skin mod, they pretty much submerged me in MELD. For the Disease Immunization one, I think they pump MELD into your organs in small doses.”

“That can’t be done quickly,” Gamil noted. “Especially if there are multiple ones.”

“Nope, the entire procedure can take several days,” Sierra agreed. “But it is worth it, at least I think so.”

“I still don’t like the idea of infecting my body with millions of nanomachines,” Gamil admitted, resting his head on a hand. “It’s not some drug, its actual machines in your body. That’s just unsettling.”

Sierra shrugged. In all honesty, she hadn’t been overly concerned with that piece of information. The nanites weren’t dangerous once they were in her body, and she had been assured that they couldn’t be hacked or modified once their purpose was fulfilled. It _was_ entirely possible that she’d been lied to, but she didn’t think so. The Commander wouldn’t have modified himself if that was a risk.

“You got some new ones, right?” Gamil suddenly asked. “I thought you only had the Iron Skin mod.”

“At one point, I did,” Sierra confirmed with a nod. “Well, and the eyesight one. But I needed a few more because of what I’ve been training for.” She smiled. “You’ll probably see it very soon, in fact.”

“This the Archangel program?” Gamil asked. “I’ve heard that was something recently created. Some kind of special operations group?”

Sierra chuckled. “Sort of. Can’t really say exactly what since the engineers are still working out some of the kinks, but it could be considered our own answer to the Floaters.”

“Really?” He perked up. “Huh. Well, that sounds good. Meanwhile I’ve been learning how to maintain a half-dozen stasis fields.”

“And how is it working with our resident Ethereal?” Sierra asked, leaning back.

“Aegis? He’s a good teacher, actually,” Gamil answered brightly. “I never would have figured some of this out on my own, or even with Patricia. He doesn’t talk as much as you’d think, but he’s alright for an alien.”

Sierra snorted as she realized that they were getting a batch of new soldiers today. “The rookies are going to be shocked at everything here.” Her tone imitated a much lighter inflection. “‘Oh by the way, we fought the Illuminati, put their leader in charge of the world, have a bunch of alien captives, and oh right, we have an Ethereal here. Welcome to XCOM!’”

Gamil laughed along with her. “Hopefully they take it well.”

“Probably,” Sierra guessed. “You know how the Commander is. He’s probably got psyche profiles on everyone here. I doubt he’s going to choose someone that’s going to have problems.”

“Not sure about that,” Gamil mused. “I really think he doesn’t care what you think as long as you do your job.” He gave her a sidelong look. “Otherwise, I doubt you’d be here. You don’t know when to shut up sometimes.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Sierra rolled her eyes. “Maybe, but I can tell you we aren’t getting any anti-ADVENT people in here.”

“You might as well say anti-Human,” Gamil said. “Anyone who goes against ADVENT at this point is a traitor to humanity. Fuck them.”

Sierra rubbed her eyes. “There is a difference between anti-ADVENT, and realizing that ADVENT is not the most perfect thing to ever exist. Really, what do you think? Egypt isn’t even part of ADVENT right?”

“Unfortunately not,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don’t see why either. I don’t think we’d do much worse with them in charge.”

“Maybe because they want to keep their independence?” Sierra suggested. “I can see why they wouldn’t join, but I agree there isn’t any excuse for not working with ADVENT. _That_ is just bad.”

“So why do you have so many issues with ADVENT?” Gamil asked. “I’d say they’re doing a lot of good.”

“ _For now_ ,” Sierra emphasized. “Key word. I don’t care who is in charge, I’m never trusting a government that openly spies on its citizens, attacks other countries unprovoked, keeps how its government works secret, _chooses_ which people are up for election, and has a police force that is pretty much another branch of the military.”

“And when exactly has ADVENT abused this?” Gamil folded his arms. “They’ve been justified.”

“ _For now_ ,” Sierra repeated. “If you can’t see just how much this could be abused, then sorry, you’re an idiot. They are justified now, but really, even that’s questionable. ADVENT goes out of their way to make the most public and visceral statement possible, and they act like dictators when they _don’t need to be_. Saudia turned the Canada annexation into a damn publicity stunt to say ‘Look! We can invade another country with no consequences whatsoever!’ Isn’t that a _little_ concerning? ADVENT is basically daring the world to actually do something against them.” She paused for breath. “Sorry, that just rubs me the wrong way. If you have to do it, just do it, don’t make it into some stunt to show off just how powerful you are.”

“Fair point,” Gamil admitted. “Maybe it’s an American thing. I have more respect for governments that actually do their job than just talk about doing it. Might just be me, but ADVENT seems at least more honest. At least they’re open about what they do, and don’t hide it.”

“Which is a point in their favor,” Sierra agreed. “But yeah, the idea of ADVENT is good. I’d say it’s even avoided abusing its power so far, even if they do show off. But the problem is that ADVENT seems to rely on the people in charge having the right priorities, and I don’t believe that, and Human nature are compatible right now.”

“Perhaps that can be changed,” Gamil mused thoughtfully. “If there was ever a time for us to unite as a species, this would be it.”

“What an optimist,” Sierra commented dryly. “I think you confused ‘priorities’ with ‘good’. Good people don’t get to where Saudia and the Commander are. ADVENT doesn’t reward the good, it rewards the effective. I guess we’ll see if you’re right though, eventually.”

“Hopefully.” He gave a lopsided smile, standing. “No point in delaying this I suppose. Time to get my own gene modding done. Thanks, Sierra.”

She returned the smile, probably looking rather cynical now. “Anytime. See you on the other side.”

***

_The Praesidium, Psionic Training Area_

The amount of newly awakened psions was almost staggering. The Commander had pulled from their current roster, as well as drawn a few from the PRIEST program, and now there were twenty-five other psions of various powers, a surprisingly high number of Magus-class psions, and even a few Leviathan-class ones like herself.

They were going to need specialized rooms for each discipline now, it seemed.

It was fairly split between disciplines when everything finally settled. Telekines and Defensive aptitudes were the most common, Offensive and Telepaths slightly less so. However, it was easier now that there were some actual veterans beyond Aegis and herself that were helping. She was focusing on the Telepaths, while Matthew focused on Telekines, Chan assisted with the Offensive-focused ones, and Aegis directly taught the Defensive-focused psions, as well as helping everywhere else.

Complicating training further, some of the psions had decided to join the ranks of the Templars, and with a few psions being in the Archangel program, that was going to change the application of their own attacks. It was an interesting balancing act, but one she felt would be settled over the next few days.

 “Does it ever get quieter?” Patricia looked to her right as an exhausted-looking woman approached, face beaded in sweat and clutching a water bottle. She was fairly old for a soldier here, pushing forty if Patricia recalled correctly. She was also not up to the current physical standards, but she did have a legitimate reason for such, and the gene mods were helping.

Sussan Sevhonkian was one of the only psions XCOM had requested from the PRIEST Program, a civilian data scientist from Armenia; she’d never even held a weapon before joining XCOM, but had still felt compelled to do her part in the war nonetheless. Patricia respected her quite a lot, since she had been willing to leave her family to come here, and had finally forced XCOM to figure out what they were going to do with soldiers who had families.

For the most part, they had tried to avoid soldiers that had spouses or children, but with the PRIEST Program, that wasn’t as easy, and made the soldier in question a possible security breach. However, in this case, they had the ability to read minds, so any leaks would be shut down quickly. Besides, it was only one or two families they had to worry about. Some reasonable accommodations could be made.

Sussan herself was a Telepath just shy of the Leviathan class, but she was getting the hang of it pretty quickly. Patricia understood her question completely. “No,” she admitted. “But you eventually learn to block out what you don’t want to hear.”

Sussan shook her head. “How? I haven’t been able to sleep well at all because everything is just…overwhelming.” She took a long drink of water. “It’s fine when I’m awake, like now, I can just focus or do some kind of physical exercise to distract me, but it’s impossible when I close my eyes.”

Patricia considered that for a minute. “How do you visualize it?”

“Like a coordinate plane,” she chuckled. “Data points on an X/Y axis. I’m trying to work on visualizing it in a 3D plane, but it’s not as easy since all of them scream for your attention,” she waved a hand. “It’s just meaningless gibberish, and that’s probably the most irritating thing for me.”

Patricia scratched her chin. “To be honest, I don’t have a sure answer. I know what worked for me, but that doesn’t mean it works for everyone else. Telepathy isn’t an exact science, unfortunately.”

“I’ll take anything at this point,” she sighed. “What did you do?”

“I had someone to practice on,” she answered fondly with a smile. “I got better at focusing on him, and through that I figured out how to block out what I didn’t want subconsciously. Then again, my awakening happened more gradually. It wasn’t as quick as yours.”

“Hm, I’ll have to try that,” she said. “So…there really isn’t a limit on what you can do to someone once you’re in their mind? That’s what I’ve been getting from a lot of what you’ve taught us so far.”

Patricia gave her a humorless smile. “Exactly. The closest comparison is a puppet. You are only limited by your imagination.”

Patricia felt and saw her shiver at that. “There is some messed up stuff you can do,” she said quietly. “I think I accidentally killed one of those Chryssalids just by making it think it was drowning.”

“That’s the purpose of them,” Patricia nodded. “Experiment with the Chryssalids, and then apply to actual Humans. Our minds regulate everything in our body, and if they can be tricked, they can be turned against the body. Don’t feel bad about killing them, it’s only an alien.”

“I guess,” Sussan said, unconvinced. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Killing things is…unsettling.”

“This sounds callous, but you get used to it,” Patricia told her. “If you still have issues with it, just focus on the fact that more aliens that die, the better chance your family will live. That grid you visualize when using your telepathy? That is where you’ll be in battle. Think of it as removing bad data. You aren’t killing people, you’re killing aliens. Don’t forget that.”

“I think I’ll practice that,” Sussan nodded. “And…well, maybe find someone to practice on.”

“You ever want me to help, I will,” Patricia promised. “Aegis would also be willing.”

“I’ll consider it,” she said. “Thanks, Patricia.”

“Anytime.” Sussan walked off, and Patricia decided to walk over where the most interesting and unnerving of the new psions was standing. Lukas Von Theil, though he preferred to be called Geist for some reason, was the most powerful psion ever awakened, at least on the Trask scale. Patricia had been somewhat surprised when he’d shown equal inclination towards telepathic and defensive disciplines, and so he’d trained for both of them at the same time.

He seemed wholly disinterested in traditional training, preferring to get basic overviews from her and Aegis and go experiment on his own. He seemed intentionally cryptic and vague for the sake of it when talking to anyone, and didn’t socialize with the other psions. Still, she was going to make an effort. He even felt odd compared to everyone else, making him stand out to any psion nearby.

All she sensed was an intense focus and curiosity. She didn’t pry, but he seemed completely unaffected by some of the other effects of psionics such as the initial loudness Sussan had complained about. Right now he was standing, looking down at the ground, hands clasped behind his back. “Interesting floor?” She asked.

“I am concentrating, Psion Trask,” he answered without looking at her. “I am attempting to conceptualize a more effective defense. The lack of creativity and utilization of psionics is surprising here, and stifling.”

“Really,” she said sarcastically. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“I am surprised you do not understand,” he said, looking up at her finally, his eyes tinged purple. He was definitely drawing upon his power. “There is a lack of ambition. Thus far few here seem to grasp the _scale_ of what beings like us can do. There is little need to stay with the single-layered shields, single Chryssalids, and dummies. Those offer no challenge or ability for growth.”

Ah, so that’s what it was then. “Two reasons for that,” she said. “First, not everyone has the raw talent you do, and second, there is a limit to what we can do within the Praesidium. You want a challenge, talk to Aegis.”

“I am not foolish enough to challenge Aegis,” he stated in the same voice. “Not yet. He is much more skilled than he has shown to your psions. He is deliberately holding them back, be it because of their lack of skill, or other reasons. I do not care, but I will not waste time performing the trivial exercises such as simple domes and shields.”

He pulled out a clenched fist and held it out before him, opened it, and they were suddenly in a small psionically shielded dome, with Geist’s arm rippling with psionic energy. “This is trivial, Patricia. Much like how dominating a single mind is simple for you. But you did not stop at a single mind, did you?”

Patricia crossed her arms. Geist was working towards a point, and she suspected she knew what it was. “No. You don’t think the scale is adequate? Fair, but again, the psions need to get used to their abilities before they start pulling off mass mind control.”

“Scale is simple, complexity is not,” Geist stated flatly, letting the shield dissipate. “This is a lesson you seem to have yet to learn as well, Psion Trask. The ability to mind control hundreds is simply you applying the basic powers of your discipline on a larger scale. There are easier ways to kill, there are more effective means of sabotaging the aliens. Why not warp the alien commanders into sleepers or force their brains to shut off?”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “Because that takes time. Time that isn’t always available in combat.”

“Spare me,” Geist said dryly, stepping forward. “No, it’s because of your habits, and because it is easier. I am only somewhat more powerful than you, and you have more experience, and it should not be me who is more creative.”

His words were reminiscent of what Aegis had told her, about how she wasn’t _thinking_ as much as she should, and brute forcing everything. Geist was blunt, and frankly rude, but he _did_ have a point. “Point taken. You certainly don’t have issues speaking your mind.”

“I do not particularly care if you dislike me or not,” Geist shrugged. “But I don’t see a point risking this war because you are held to a standard beyond reproach.” He held his hands up, palms vertical to the floor, and two small psionic shields appeared, then two more, until there was a shimmering purple cube between his hands. “Aegis is talented, Patricia, but he will only teach what he _knows_.”

“That wasn’t an insult,” she said, referring to his earlier comment. “And yes he will, but if there is anyone who knows about psionics, it is him. Like it or not, he knows more than you.”

“What I would suggest, Patricia, is that we do not solely rely on him,” he corrected, disintegrating the cube in his hand. “Whatever he teaches, the Ethereals know how to counter. We are not still in this war solely because of one alien, but because we have adapted in ways the Ethereals did not _anticipate_. That is our strength, and this should be applied to our own psionic abilities.”

Patricia idly wondered if he would be this forward if he wasn’t a psion. She suspected he likely wouldn’t act differently. Still, she did appreciate the different perspective. It was slightly irritating, but perhaps he could actually meet the Commander. He appeared to have some ideas the Commander would like, and they were alike in their practical methodicalism.

“Were you actually a chemistry teacher?” She asked curiously. “Because you certainly don’t talk like a teacher.”

“Most teachers are sympathetic, and are predictable,” Geist said. “They do not fully understand their students, nor the intricacies of childhood. I understand people, and I know how best to engage them. I did not lie, Trask, I simply had different methods than most teachers.”

“Clearly,” she muttered. “But fair enough.”

“Most people I simply do not find engaging enough,” Geist continued. “I do not need Human interaction to function, nor lead what I consider to be a fulfilling life. And I think that more people appreciate that than the alternative.”

“As long as you can work with others, that won’t be a problem,” Patricia said. “You wouldn’t be the first quiet one I’ve worked with.”

He smiled for the first time, but it appeared closer to an imitation than the real thing. “Then I believe we have nothing to worry about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I would prefer some time to ensure that I am adequately prepared for our next attack.”

“I’ll leave you then,” she said. “Have fun.”

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

“One per continent, is that the suggestion?” Jackson asked, looking up from the holotable.

The Commander exchanged a look with Shen, who gave a short nod. “Yes, that would be ideal. Actual bases can be in the future, but for now we should have Hangars on standby, especially with the Firestorms coming online shortly.”

“Right,” Jackson nodded, biting her lower lip as she thought. “And how many Firestorms are we talking about per base?”

“Twenty to start with,” the Commander said. “Likely more in the future.”

“I expect production to increase once we launch our own construction facility,” Shen added. “But it isn’t feasible to have the entirety of our air force confined to the Praesidium.”

“So we can aim for one per continent,” Jackson said, pressing some buttons on the holotable. “I assume ADVENT would assist in the construction?”

“If possible,” the Commander confirmed. “Otherwise, we can hire who we need; but I doubt ADVENT would pass this up. On the condition that this is not on record and the workers have the location of the base removed from their minds.”

Jackson pinched the bridge of her nose. “See, I don’t know if they’ll go for that.”

“I want this going to Saudia,” the Commander said. “Let her answer it before jumping to conclusions. Worst case scenario, we create an XCOM construction wing and do it ourselves to bypass ADVENT altogether.”

Shen frowned. “Why not just do that to begin with?”

“I do want to eventually,” the Commander clarified. “But in this case, speed is important. ADVENT can have Hangars built in several weeks if they leverage their crews. Doing this ourselves will take time I don’t know we have.”

“Makes sense,” Jackson said. “Alright, there are several obvious locations we could station a base. Brazil makes the most sense for South America, the United States for North America, maybe Midwest.” The holomap shifted to the other side of the world. “I would also suggest Germany and Russia for the other continents, Africa would be an issue, unless you want to wait until Egypt or South Africa joins ADVENT.”

“Are there alternatives?” The Commander asked. So far this was good, but he wanted to be aware of all his options.

“ _Potentially_ ,” Jackson stressed the word. “We could avoid the continents altogether and instead set up bases along nearby islands. This would apply more to the coasts, but we could potentially construct more, and outside of ADVENT territory.”

“And what if there are no islands available?” The Commander asked.

Shen seemed to get it first. “You want to explore the artificial island possibility?”

“Exactly,” Jackson said firmly. “Maybe not at first, but something to look into when we have our own construction wing.”

The Commander frowned. “And is that actually feasible? How exactly could we create an island?”

“It technically isn’t ‘creating’ an island, so much as building on top of existing rocks, islands, and reefs to support something larger,” Jackson explained. “It’s a fairly simple, if involved process. For our purposes, we wouldn’t need much, but just enough to support a small Hangar, so the job wouldn’t be as extensive. We would need a large supply of sand to make it work.”

The Commander thought for a moment. “I suspect this has been done before successfully. We could look into how it was done before, for the equipment used if nothing else.”

Shen coughed awkwardly. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about this. China was the one who put the idea into action, and until recently, they’ve been constructing islands to cement their claim on the South China Sea. It was a large geopolitical issue for some time, though it died down once the aliens showed up.”

Hm, he must have missed that, which wasn’t surprisingly given that China hadn’t been a focal point during the past year, aside from causing issues with the Council. Even then he hadn’t needed to gather ammunition on their previous overreaches, since China was one country that kind of pseudo-intimidation wouldn’t work on.

However, this gave him an idea.

“How willing do you think China would be to do this for us?” He mused.

Jackson blinked. “That depends. What are they getting out of it?”

“Showing that they are willing to work against the aliens?” The Commander thought. “China apparently wants to play nice now. This might be a good opportunity for them to actually prove it.”

“It would lessen tensions significantly,” Shen said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “China would be seen as working with ADVENT, and the Communist Party can demonstrate that they are still influential enough to negotiate with the primary world power. A win for both parties.”

“ADVENT is starting Operation Kraken as well,” Jackson reminded him. “If they could get Chinese support, that would make their job significantly easier.”

Operation Kraken was one of the newer initiatives by ADVENT to leverage their naval forces to hinder alien supply drops in the Pacific theatre. It was their attempt to cover the ocean with submarines ready to fire at UFOs at a moment’s notice. Right now the majority were moving towards Japan, while several more groups were stationed at various intervals around Korea.

China joining, even if they weren’t as technologically advanced, would be a massive boon. Definitely something to at least attempt. “Send that to Saudia and Laura,” the Commander said. “And send it to the Chinese as well. Let’s see what they say. In the meantime, I also want continent Hangars planned. We can focus on the artificial island idea later.”

“Got it,” Jackson confirmed, looking rather pleased. “I hope they accept. If China and ADVENT actually work together, there goes the largest chance of an idiotic war.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” the Commander warned. “China won’t do this for anyone but themselves. The good news is that they’re not idiots…for the most part.” Their antics on the Council threw some doubt on that claim, but in hindsight, they _had_ gotten out before he’d put a violent end to the Council. At least they took a stand and left instead of just complaining about him.

But that was in the past. If China was open to being an ally, he was willing to give them another chance. He had a feeling that they wouldn’t squander it this time.

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

Oliver was still feeling decidedly odd after the genetic modification. It certainly hadn’t been close to the most unpleasant thing he’d ever dealt with in his life, but it hadn’t exactly been pleasurable either. Still, he couldn’t entirely argue with the results. He honestly _felt_ better after all was said and done; stronger and more energetic.

To test this out he’d run a series of exercises that he knew would exhaust himself, and as opposed to feeling wiped out, he felt merely winded. That had been an amazing, and somewhat unnerving realization. Whatever he had been before, he was decidedly no longer a normal Human.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The rational part of him realized that this was a great improvement, and it would likely save his life. On the other, he almost felt like he was cheating. He’d worked hard to get to where he was, and the gene mods had basically given him the end result with no effort. It was a minor thing, and didn’t make rational sense, but it did bother him somewhat.

The eye modifications were going to take some getting used to. He was still learning to focus them on what he wanted, because he’d gone through a period of focusing on things really far away, and everything else becoming blurry, and vice-versa. He’d been assured that was just a normal phase and that he’d adjust within a few days. It seemed to be accurate, and his vision had stabilized over the past few hours.

And now the new recruits had shown up, and boy were they providing some of the best entertainment any of them had seen in weeks. It was funny upon reflection, because under normal circumstances, what was happening in XCOM was literal world-shattering information, but it was something that just…happened at XCOM.

Really, Oliver couldn’t blame the young Frenchman who was having an incredulous conversation with Zara. If _he’d_ been hit with the news that the Illuminati was running the world, and that XCOM was working with alien defectors _and_ an Ethereal all at once, then he might be just as shocked. One he could handle pretty well, and he had, but three at once was a bit much.

“So you were not only running the media, you _also_ had an army?” Leonard Bissonnette practically accused a highly amused, and smiling Zara. “Do I understand that right?”

“One, we weren’t ‘running the media’; we had a number of agents and had some monetary investments in the larger media organizations, but far from ‘running it’,” Zara clarified, raising a finger, then adding a second as she continued. “Two, an army might be a generous term. I’d compare it to more of an elite special forces group, commanded by yours truly.” She gave a mock bow.

“Uh huh,” Leonard said skeptically. “So you never killed stories or twisted the news to fit your narrative?”

“What? No, of course we did,” Zara admitted with a shrug. “Really, this shouldn’t be a shock. And honestly, we did everyone a favor. We mostly helped make sure that stupidly corrupt and idiotic people didn’t get into positions of power, and making conspiracy people look stupider than they already did. You’d want to ask Elizabeth, I’m just a soldier.”

“Elizabeth _who?”_

“Elizabeth Falka,” Zara said, clearly enjoying this _way_ too much. “I think she’s the Director of ADVENT Intelligence now? I can give her a call if you want.”

“Fucking hell,” he swore under his breath, looking around at all of them. “Does this _not_ seem like a big deal or is it just me?”

“Honestly,” Ellinor, one of the newer soldiers, and soon-to-be Defensive Templar, interjected. “I was more surprised that there was an _Ethereal_ of all things here. You know, the one thing that’s repeatedly beaten our soldiers?”

“Eh, I’m in a similar boat,” Shun shrugged, leaning comfortably into the corner of a couch. “Really, this kind of stuff just kinda happens here. Carmelita, remember when Soran turned out to be an alien?”

“Hard to forget _that_ ,” the little Korean woman snorted. Even without armor Oliver was quite sure she was the most intimidating person in the room. “I especially liked how weird Patricia was acting for a few months before she actually told us she was reading minds.”

“Or Aegis just showing up and surrendering,” Seok, another Korean, added with a nod. “Although we didn’t find out about that till later.”

“At least for me, XCOM showing up out of nowhere and helping us take the Fury Base ranks up there,” Zara commented. “And the Commander showing up and saying ‘Hey, want to run the world?’”

“With a lot of strings attached,” Shun muttered under her breath. “Still, wouldn’t have predicted _that_.”

“So I guess the point of this is that weird stuff happens in XCOM,” Oliver summarized for Leonard. “You get used to it pretty quick.”

“So…” Ellinor said after a few moment of silence. “Does, ah, anyone know exactly why the Commander made sure to stress not to, er, flirt with aliens? Did something…ah…happen?”

Oliver rubbed his forehead. Oh no, it was only a matter of time. He’d not heard of it, but having some familiarity with the internet, and people being curious to a stupid degree, it was one hundred percent _not surprising_ that apparently _something_ had happened. Because there was no way this was just something the Commander would casually require…months _after_ they were originally acquired.

“He didn’t actually say that,” Zara snorted. “He didn’t, right?” She looked around for some answers.

“Don’t look at me,” Oliver shook his head. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“Hey, I heard it too,” Leonard added. “Didn’t help that the alien with him made what I think was a joke about it.”

They were interrupted by the light sound of Carmelita laughing, something it seemed none of them had heard before. It was a pleasant sound; a stark contrast to her normally dark demeanor. “I can answer that,” she said between laughs. “One of the scientists told me about it.”

“Don’t leave us in suspense,” Shun said, leaning forward. “Tell us what happened.”

Oliver was not sure he wanted to know, exactly, but this was the equivalent of watching a train wreck and he couldn’t really stop listening. “So,” Carmelita continued. “This was after some big project completion, didn’t figure out what. So the science team decides to celebrate and have a small party. So one of them, being a nice Human and all, decided to ask the Vitakarian who’d been helping them to join them.”

Oliver could see exactly where this was going. “From what she told me,” Carmelita explained. “It was a good start. The alien seemed a little restrained, if happy, to be participating, and as with any civilized party, there was wine involved. And chocolate.”

Ellinor sniffed. “Wimps. They should have something _actually_ alcoholic.”

“She said civilized,” Oliver pointed out. “Not a bar fight.”

“Knulle deg,” she likely insulted in Norwegian.

“What?”

“Both of you be quiet,” Shun shushed. “Anyway, keep going.”

“Also, why is that they had chocolate important?” Zara added.

“I’ll get to that,” Carmelita said, raising her non-modified arm to focus their attention. “So yeah, everything’s going well. So a good ways into it, most everyone is drunk, and now the Vitakarian is a _lot_ more relaxed. She was described to me as ‘high’.”

“Drunk?” Shun asked.

“No, high, like on drugs,” Carmelita clarified. “Not that I would know, but at this point one of the scientists was flirting with her, and seemed to be going over her head, and they were all just kinda laughing at the situation. Then, the Vitakarian says, and I quote, ‘I would like to have sexual intercourse with that Human,’ and she points at the guy who’d been flirting with her all night.”

All of them were torn between mock horror and amusement. “Brilliant,” Zara chuckled. “I _have_ to use that sometime. Did it work?”

“Well…” Carmelita paused. “We definitely now know that Humans and Vitakara are… _compatible_. I think. My friend didn’t have the intimate details, although both involved didn’t seem to regret it afterwards. So I guess it worked?” She shook her head. “Although apparently the mood was killed several times when she started vomiting randomly. A few times after they went too their private quarters to, so I’m told.”

“Why?” Oliver inquired.

“The unproven scientific consensus is that Vitakarians get high on chocolate, and it makes them vomit if they consume it,” Carmelita said, cracking up. “I know there is at least one person working to convert it to a safe drug.”

“Send it to the science teams,” Ellinor chuckled. “We’ve got a new weapon to use against the aliens! We kill them with chocolate.”

“What if this is what they do when they’re high though?” Leonard asked jokingly. “I don’t know how we’d respond if they start yelling at random Humans if they want to have ‘sexual intercourse’.”

“Let’s hope the aliens don’t have a way to weaponize weed in response,” Zara added. “What do we get when both armies are equally stoned?”

“Let’s not go there,” Oliver said quickly. “I think this discussion has run its course.”

“Hey, at least they sort of look like us,” Leonard pointed out. “At least it wasn’t something _really_ weird like an Oyariah.”

“I don’t really blame the guy,” Shun said. “As far as aliens go, they aren’t that bad. I wouldn’t say no. They’re pretty much like us, at least physically.”

“Aside from their skin, and their eyes, and they don’t have hair, and they’re tall,” Zara listed off. “But yeah, very similar.”

“Oh shut up,” Shun snorted. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“I’ll stick with Humans, thank you very much,” Ellinor huffed. “I would never be able to get past the whole ‘alien’ thing. What about you, Oliver?”

He was _not_ getting dragged into this. “I’m sticking to attractive Human women thank you very much.”

“Hey, does anyone know if there is any organized crime in the Collective?” Ellinor asked suddenly. “Because if there is, we definitely need to smuggle some chocolate to them.”

They all laughed at that. “Better idea,” Carmelita said. “We just send out some care packages to alien territory, like Australia. Just have them labeled as “Chocolate – Do not open” or something. Then of course they do, and eat them, and we give them food poisoning.”

“Trolling worthy of Quisilia,” Leonard commended with a nod. “I approve. Get this to the Commander right away.”

“Why the hell are you following Quisilia?” Carmelita asked. “You do know he’s an Ethereal right?”

“Oh, he is?” Leonard said. “I was fifty-fifty on that, didn’t know if that was real or him just trolling everyone.”

“He takes _selfies_.”

“You do know Photoshop exists?”

“Really, I kinda don’t care he’s an alien bent on enslaving us,” Shun admitted. “I mean, I kinda do, but on the other hand, I have to respect anyone that openly mocks Caelior, then trolls the Zar’Chon, and the Battlemaster. His Youtube channel is hilarious too. Say what you will about him, he produces good content.”

All of them stared at her. “What do you mean ‘his Youtube channel’?” Carmelita asked, very slowly.

“You remember that really weird announcement on his Twitter that everyone freaked out about?” Shun asked. “Well, it turned out it was just the launch of his Youtube channel. He already has twenty-million subscribers, including myself, I admit.”

“Traitor,” Zara rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Alright, I have to see this.”

“Count me in,” Oliver added, grabbing his tablet and tossing it to Shun. “Pull it up, let’s see how Quisilia is giving everyone in ADVENT Intelligence a headache.”

“Gladly,” Shun smiled. “Bet you didn’t expect this when you came to XCOM, Leonard, did you?”

“Watching a video with a living memelord Ethereal?” Leonard said, as they gathered around Shun. “Can’t say that I did.”

“Welcome to XCOM, kid,” Oliver grunted. “Like I said earlier, you’ll get used to it.”

***

_The Praesidium, Research Labs_

There was quite a bit that Vahlen wanted to discuss, even though the majority of her work had been assisting Shen with other projects, which the elder engineer would be showing off soon. But it was built on the basis of what Vahlen’s team had learned, and there was still quite a few other projects in production.

Elerium had been the main focus of Vahlen’s team, and as a result there were elerium crystals everywhere in the labs; stored in jars, cases, hooked up to various machines with scientists running experiments on them. There was a louder than normal perpetual hum here, and the Commander suspected it was due to all the elerium being used.

Vahlen was in her regular lab coat and standing in front of a table with various unidentifiable tools attached to small elerium crystals. She must have sensed him walking up, because she turned to him, smiling, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Welcome back,”

“You say that like you didn’t just see me a few hours ago,” he said, amused.

“Well, you haven’t been _here_ in a while,” she amended, turning back to the table. “And we have been busy.”

“So I see,” the Commander noted. “Elerium?”

“That has been the primary focus of our team,” Vahlen confirmed. “As per your directive. We have continued to make some progress on the Manchurian Project, but that has not been our priority. Anti-Psionics has taken priority over that, and now that we understand elerium enough to actually use it, it won’t be long until we have plasma weapons of our own.”

 _Excellent_. With that, they would be able to successfully match the aliens in pure damage output. While he knew that by no means would they stop using laser and Gauss weapons, plasma gave them some additional options, and in general would be more effective against standard alien units than the other weapon types.

He was going to regret this, and likely not understand half of it, but he had to at least make an effort. “In that case, how _does_ elerium work? It couldn’t have been easy.”

“Initially, you’re right,” Vahlen said, picking up one of the blue-green crystals with a gloved hand. “How familiar are you with Moscovium?”

Oh dear. “Vahlen…”

“Oh, right,” she nodded rapidly, remembering she wasn’t speaking to a scientist. “Element 115 on the periodic table, it was discovered just over a decade back, but has only recently been officially recognized. This is important because elerium, as it turns out, is actually an isotope of this element.”

That was something he hadn’t expected. “That seems like a large coincidence.”

“Not necessarily,” Vahlen disagreed. “The periodic table is unlikely to change if we were to expand beyond Earth. Elements don’t suddenly cease to exist, but we would likely just find more, or different properties of already existing ones. That the aliens have discovered this element and turned it into a power source isn’t exactly far-fetched.”

She set the crystal down. “Normally, finding, let alone stabilizing an isotope like this would be extremely time intensive, but thanks to the aliens, we know how to achieve this necessary configuration. That actually wasn’t the hard part, there is plenty of working alien tech to draw from; the issue was actually _getting_ the elerium to react.”

“Which I assumed you figured out,” the Commander guessed.

“Yes,” Vahlen said, smiling. “We were looking at elerium the wrong way. We had always assumed it was, or at least primarily exists, in a solid state.”

The Commander looked down on the table, where there were quite a few very tangible-looking elerium crystals. He felt he was interpreting her statement wrong. “Are they not?”

Vahlen hesitated, clearly trying to think about the best way to explain this. “Not exactly. We now think that elerium is a kind of time crystal, based on how we’ve seen it react. Time crystals still oscillate, even in their ground state, which to not completely lose you, means that they can act as a way to carry momentum throughout its structure.”

She motioned towards the table. “To explain more simply, there is a large reserve of potential untapped energy in each elerium crystal, and if we know how to…jumpstart it, for lack of a better word, it produces an exothermic reaction, and through this we can produce stable energy nearly anywhere.”

He understood…most of that. “I assume you wrote a report on that?” He asked.

“Of course,” she nodded. “I forwarded a copy to you.”

He made a note to try and read it later. “So we know how elerium works, and can integrate it into our own technology?” He asked to clarify.

“Eventually,” she said. “Because we know what elerium is now, we can synthesize it ourselves, as well as constructing more generators. It will take some time to convert our power sources to elerium, but it certainly is possible.”

“Forward your research to ADVENT,” the Commander said. “They need to begin integrating this immediately. The discovery of cheap energy will benefit the entire Human race, not just us.”

“And now we can actually begin to research and design plasma weapons of our own,” Vahlen continued. “With elerium solved, our largest hurdle is past. The next step then, is anti-psionics.”

“Yes,” the Commander nodded, as Vahlen picked up a tablet and tapped a finger on it. “Aside from the Manchurian Program, what other possibilities have you explored?”

“A genetic modification that would be able to either shut down the parts of the brain affected by telepathy, or stop it entirely.” Vahlen turned the tablet to him, which showed pictures of brain scans which he didn’t know how to interpret. “There is a recordable difference between a brain affected by psionics and a brain that isn’t. There are some ways we are exploring to both detect, and shut this down.”

“No test subjects yet?” The Commander noted.

“No, preliminary research only,” Vahlen confirmed. “I didn’t want to begin Human testing until we have isolated the probable brain regions to modify, and the majority of my team was able to focus on this. Now that elerium is finished, we can focus on it. However, this will have several drawbacks.”

“Such as?” The Commander asked.

“We won’t be able to do it to psions,” Vahlen explained. “For obvious reasons, it would render them comatose. In addition, it is very likely that soldiers who undergo this modification will not be able to be enhanced with friendly telepathy. Distinguishing between allied and hostile telepathy is impossible.

Well, there wasn’t going to be something that was perfect, and he could live with those limitations. Psions could defend themselves, or at least learn how. But he was curious. “Does it have to be a straight modification?” He asked. “We have technology to detect and interact with psionic abilities, could we use it for creating anti-psionic fields.”

Vahlen set down the tablet, hesitating before she answered. “In theory…yes. In fact, it’s another avenue we’re exploring. However, we don’t know much about how that specific technology works to interact with psionics, and reverse-engineering it will take time. I don’t even know if it could actively block psionic abilities. But it is a possibility.”

“Is there any of the Sovereign technology schematics Aegis has that could help with anti-psionics?” The Commander asked.

Vahlen pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Much of what is in there is difficult even for me and Shen to fully understand, let me show you,” a few taps on her tablet, and she showed an image to him. It was six full pages of gibberish and formulas written in an alien language that wasn’t Ethereal Script, and only at the end were some schematics, which honestly to him looked like a sphere of some kind.

“And you don’t understand this?” The Commander asked. “Can’t really blame you.”

“We haven’t fully figured out the language the Sovereign Ones write in,” Vahlen admitted. “The main pieces Aegis brought, the Gateways and practice amps, those had already been translated by the Ethereals, and it wasn’t difficult to translate them to English. From what I can make out, whatever this device does ‘ensures that the thralls are immune to tampering of the mind’. From what I can also make out, constructing it requires both equipment and resources that don’t exist.” She set the tablet down. “It might be a mistranslation, but I’m not sure. Even for Sovereign technology, it is complicated. Even just the math is beyond me.”

“We can always bring in mathematicians,” the Commander reminded her. “You don’t need to do everything.”

“No, but I should at least be able to have some idea how this works,” she muttered scowling. “It’s frustrating to have to rely on others. Luckily, Shen isn’t having as much trouble. He grasps their formulas much better than I do. But maybe you’re right, what Aegis has brought us could likely save us, should we decipher it. The more people looking at this, the better.”

“I’ll have Jackson put together a team of linguists, cryptologists, and mathematicians,” the Commander told her. “You’ll review the list before they’re approved, but we need to do something to get an edge. I don’t think this war is going to get easier, and we can’t suffer any more defeats.”

Vahlen smiled. “I think we’ve come up with something that will help us out a bit with that. If nothing else, it will give the Ethereals pause.” He followed her as she turned to head towards the Genetic Labs, and the Subject Cells. “However, before we get there, we do have something of a situation,” Vahlen warned as they walked towards the cells.

The Commander glanced down at her. “What happened?”

“Nothing major,” Vahlen said, looking mildly disconcerted as she psionically unlocked the door to the Labs. “As a general rule, I experiment with my own telepathy on the various test subjects. I’ve gotten rather skilled at navigating and influencing their minds.”

He was wholly unsurprised at that. She was a seventy-six on the Trask scale, a Magus-class psion and one of the most powerful in XCOM. Not quite Patricia, but closer than most. “Did you find something strange?”

“Not strange, but concerning,” Vahlen clarified. “We only experiment on convicts, thankfully, and that has never been an issue. Their minds are interesting, from a purely clinical perspective, but the problem is that we somehow have someone who is actually innocent of what he was convicted for.”

The Commander rubbed his forehead. As far as incidents, this was a thankfully minor, if irritating, one. “I hope you haven’t done anything to him?”

“No, nothing yet,” Vahlen assured him as they stepped into the Subject cells and stopped before one. “Once I found out, I quarantined him until I could speak to you. I’ve kept him well-fed and supplied him with actual amenities. But I did restrict him to the cell until we decided what to do with him.” The man before them, sleeping on an actual bed Vahlen must have moved in for him, seemed to be in his forties, with thinning black hair and thin stature; he was also extremely pale, likely from years of confinement.

“He’s seen too much,” the Commander muttered. “I don’t suppose you know who actually committed the crime he was convicted for? Or who actually convicted him?”

“He was accused of murdering his ex-girlfriend,” Vahlen explained. “He doesn’t know who did it, even if he has suspicions. I do know the judge and jury who presided over his trial. I don’t know the details of the case, but I’ve put together a report you can give to ADVENT.” She wrinkled her nose. “This is unacceptable. If ADVENT isn’t working on a judicial branch for the PRIESTs, this will keep happening.”

“Agreed,” the Commander said grimly. “Wipe his mind of what he’s seen here, and I want him moved out of here and to a country of his choice, with as much compensation as he wants. Give it to ADVENT too, maybe this will get them to accelerate their justice reform. I hope you included in your report suggestions to investigate this case.”

“Certainly,” Vahlen said. “I’ll have him moved, then alter his memories. He’ll remember us freeing him, but nothing of what he’s actually seen. I doubt he’ll care. He just wants to be free.”

“We don’t have any more, correct?” The Commander said.

“Innocent people here? No,” Vahlen confirmed. “Like I said, I discovered this almost immediately. However, I want us to have a telepath to investigate the ones being sent to us beforehand so we don’t have this situation again.”

“Better yet, just go through all of death row and solve the issue at the root,” the Commander half-seriously suggested. “I’ll have to talk to Saudia about this.”

“Now that we have that sorted out, we can move onto the developments,” Vahlen said, as they walked further down. “The more research we perform on MELD, the more baffled I am that the Ethereals haven’t put it to greater use. Genetic modification and mechanical augmentation is all well and good, but MELD is a lethal weapon if the potential is tapped.”

“This is for Artemis?” The Commander asked.

“It could be,” Vahlen clarified. “There are two methods of nanite weaponization we are working towards: Short-wave organic control, and bioproduction.”

“Promising,” the Commander said, since he suspected what both of those meant. “I assume short-wave is for in-combat usage only?”

“Correct,” Vahlen confirmed as they stopped in front of another cell. “The problem we continually have to worry about is the nanites being compromised. The way around this is nanites slaved to a specific frequency, and said frequency would be connected to a soldier via an implant. This wouldn’t allow the nanites to be altered or hacked.”

She tapped a finger on the glass and the man inside bolted up, eyes widening in fear once he saw Vahlen. “Couldn’t the implant be hacked?” The Commander asked.

“It’s not connected to a network, so no,” Vahlen dismissed, pressing a button that enabled communication into the cell. “Demonstrate nanite manipulation.”

The man nodded and turned towards a small orange cube on the ground. The cube began vibrating and suddenly dissolved and the small MELD nanite swarm flew into the air and rematerialized into a cube in his hand. For good measure he tossed the cube into the air once and caught it.

“He can control it with his mind,” the Commander noted. “An application of MEC cybernetics?”

“A lesser application, and nowhere near as complicated,” Vahlen clarified. “He’s technically not controlling them, he’s controlling the implant. The implant sends a limited number of signals that mean different things; up, down, left right, sphere, cube, and so on. It takes some practice, but I think that idea can soon be put into practice.”

“Give some soldiers MELD cubes, and this could kill the Battlemaster,” the Commander said as he thought about it.

“It’s nowhere near combat ready,” Vahlen clarified. “But the concept is sound, which is what I wanted to show you. The next usage will be useful to increasing our MELD production without relying solely on facilities.”

They moved down to another cell, where there actually wasn’t a test subject inside, but a dead, naked corpse. She was suspended over a clear glass vat underneath her, and the machine suspending her had a syringe arm just hovering over her. “Explain,” the Commander said dryly.

“MELD bioproduction,” Vahlen explained. “MELD has the ability to replicate itself, and there are hundreds of thousands of human and alien corpses that go to waste rotting. They are just a valid source of MELD, but they haven’t been utilized correctly as of yet. This was a specimen I requested from a morgue to test on, and I believe it will be beneficial to us.”

“That sounds extremely dangerous,” the Commander pointed out. “If it gets out of control-”

“Please, I know what I’m doing,” Vahlen told him. “One: The nanites have been programed to only harvest organic material, as you can see, there is no other organic material in the room. Two: It’s been specifically programed to _not_ harvest the other materials in the room, like the steel and glass. Three: The nanites can be shut off or destroyed at any time. Four: The room has several incinerators that will melt everything if that fails.” She pointed to the nozzles pointing out from the corners of the walls.

That seemed sufficient to the Commander. Although, he wasn’t sure if you could be too careful when it came to this. “Fair. Go on and demonstrate.”

“Will do,” Vahlen said as she pressed a button on a wristpad. “This can be done with only one nanite to start, but I would prefer you have the enhanced version.” As she spoke the syringe arm began injecting the yellow MELD into specific spots on her body; the feet, legs, chest, arms, hands and finally eyes.

The Commander grimaced as he saw the syringe go into her eyes. He never really liked seeing that.

“It will take a few minutes for the MELD to begin working,” Vahlen said. “Just watch.”

He did, and it took close to ten minutes before the first noticeable effects began showing. The body first began leaking MELD from cracks in the skin, where the nanites had eaten to that point, and began dripping down into the vat below. Then the Commander saw the MELD actually begin to dissolve the corpse entirely as the nanites replicated further.

Eventually it had eaten through the bones and tissue holding parts of it together, and parts of the body fell into the vat below, and were consumed by the nanites in the vat itself, while the ones still in the body harvested it. It seemed fairly slow, but the Commander then realized that the entire body had been turned into a vat full of MELD in just under a half hour.

“And that is enough MELD to fully enhance three soldiers,” Vahlen said proudly, as she pressed a button on her wrist. “All from one body. The nanites within can then be wiped and reprogramed to whatever we want.”

“I think,” the Commander said slowly. “We might have potentially solved any MELD shortage we had. I would inform ADVENT about this use immediately. We now have a use for the bodies beyond fertilization and autopsies.”

“Gladly,” Vahlen said. “I take it you wish me to establish this program more fully?”

“Yes,” the Commander ordered, a smile growing on his face as he looked at the vat of MELD. “Let’s get this up and running.”

***

_The Praesidium, Patricia’s Quarters_

Patricia hadn’t quite believed it before she’d actually sat down and watched it, but lo and behold, it was an actual thing, and was the funniest thing she’d seen all day. So she naturally had to share this with someone. “Hey,” she called to Creed who was laying on the bed. “You’ll never guess what just got greenlit.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “What? A new project?”

“Not related to XCOM,” she chuckled. “Well, officially anyway. You know, what they call entertainment that gets approved for production.”

His face lit up and he nodded. “Ah, right. Took me a second to make the connection. So let me guess, they’re making a movie about XCOM?”

“Close...”

“TV series?”

“Got it,” she confirmed, sitting down beside him and holding up her tablet for him to see. “And boy is it something.”

Creed smirked when he saw it. “This should be good.”

The trailer was, all things considered, not _completely_ terrible. It was treated completely serious…she thought, since the various actors seemed to be into their roles. The plot seemed to be set in the pre-invasion period when they were fighting small groups of aliens and dealing with abductions. Not too bad, but what they seemed to think happened during those times…yeah…

It seemed that the trailer seemed to think that the aliens had flat out invaded each and every town they’d abducted, taking the unfortunate civilians alive, who were of course yelling and begging for their lives. Then XCOM showed up, and it turned into some sort of hostage situation. Obviously supposed to be emotional, but she just snorted when she watched it. That wasn’t anything _close_ to what had actually happened.

“I don’t recall it being that…exciting,” Creed said, lips twitching. “We were lucky if there even _were_ aliens there and they weren’t already long-gone.”

“Keep watching,” she said, as it showed the first of the characters.

This might have been her favorite part, because it seriously looked as though someone had been told vaguely what the actual members of XCOM actually looked like, but nothing else. The ‘Commander’ here wasn’t too far off visually, likely because he had actually been seen in public, but that was where the accuracy ended. For one, he appeared to be portraying a stand-up, nice, and ethical person. That alone was amusing.

There was the second in command who she _thought_ was supposed to be Bradford, but looked absolutely nothing like him, and had the most overdramatic voice of them all. His one line as XCOM soldiers were seeing an alien for the first time was the most exaggerated _“What…is it_ ,” she had ever heard. It was very funny.

Patricia presumed that no one actually knew who the science lead was, aside from that it was a woman, because the lead scientist was _not_ Vahlen, but some Korean lady. Same for Shen, who she assumed had been described to them as ‘the older engineer’. For good measure they’d made “Shen” look like a semi-mad scientist, with a beard too.

Creed started laughing. “Did you know they were doing this?”

Oh, and apparently _she_ was also in this. Apparently in this timeline, XCOM already had psionics and she was the resident psion, called “Patricia”. No last name was given, likely for legal reasons, but yeah, the actress playing her was too much of a copy for it to be a coincidence.

“They certainly think we use a lot of explosives,” Creed commented. “And…oh, come on. Who thinks these clichés are actually good?”

And that was the other thing, whoever had made this just could not help themselves, and included stupidly generic taglines like _“Witness the beginning”_ and _“Can they succeed_ ” and crap like that. Her personal favorite was the line the “Commander” spoke at the end that was perfectly punctuated by the dramatic music.

_“Gentlemen, we are now dealing with an enemy…unknown.”_

It was so overly dramatic and out of character for the Commander that it was actually hilarious.

“So,” Creed set down the tablet. “I guess this is a thing. Who’s even making TV right now? That just seems like a waste of time that could be put elsewhere.”

“ADVENT has to be behind this,” Patricia said. “This is complete propaganda, and giving the general population a distraction so they don’t lose morale. If we’re having problems beating the aliens in real life, they can just show the aliens losing in TV. Psychologically it’s very smart. But still,” she smirked. “Completely inaccurate.”

“I wonder if I get on…” he mused. “Because I just know everyone is going to have a love interest.”

“I’m probably going to end up with that Russian soldier,” she guessed with a smirk. “Just guessing, and I guarantee that the Commander will also end up with the science lady.”

“Do you think they actually asked him about this?” Creed wondered. “I mean, it’s only polite to ask first.”

“Probably, and he likely said ‘sure, but I have actual things to do. No, you can’t have a tour,’ the end.” Patricia guessed. “Well, whatever the case, I think we have a new base-wide event. We haven’t really had one of those for a while.”

“Oh yes,” he said as he thought some about it. “This is going to be _great_.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m personally going to be mailing them about every inaccuracy I spot.”

“Careful,” Creed warned mockingly. “I don’t think executives would like being told that their entire show is inaccurate.”

“Hey, I’m one of the few known XCOM soldiers in the world,” she defended. “My word should count for something. And I can always threaten to mind control them.”

Creed groaned. “Please don’t.”

She lightly punched him. “Kidding, don’t worry.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Just wait till Quisilia hears about this. I’m expecting nothing less than full weekly reviews.”

“For some reason,” Patricia said slowly and sarcastically. “I think they’re counting on the publicity from that.”

***

_The Praesidium, Engineering Bay_

The Commander was rather looking forward to seeing what Shen had managed to put together for him. If the list was all complete, it was a much-needed boon and boost to morale for the soldiers. While the Commander wasn’t thrilled with the way the war had gone so far, it wasn’t unexpected. He would have been more suspicious if they had been winning more often than not. It would have felt like a trap to lure them into complacency.

Ultimately, he knew that in the grand scheme of this war, these were only the beginning stages. They were still here, they were still making progress, and soon that was going to pay off. Today might just mark the moment when they started hurting the aliens, and preferably, make them scared.

The main threat the aliens had were the Ethereals. Just one could turn any victory into a near-assured defeat. They were the key to victory. Defeat the Ethereals, then the Collective would soon follow, and once it did, there was going to be retribution for this unprovoked war. But he would save his plans for when they were actually feasible.

Right now, he wanted to see what Shen had put together.

“Commander, welcome,” Shen greeted as he walked up. “Your meeting with Vahlen was productive?”

“Very,” the Commander agreed as they began walking through the whirring machines. “I expect now that we have elerium decoded, you can move forward with several other projects?”

“Yes,” Shen nodded. “We will be working with the science teams to get plasma weaponry deployed as soon as possible. But elerium has helped us complete several major projects: Firestorm, Stargate, and Icarus. More will be coming in the future, but it is looking very bright, even as ADVENT will no doubt make advancements of their own.”

He knew about Project Firestorm, and had passing knowledge of the other two. “Well, I’m ready to see what you’ve come up with.”

“Let’s start small then,” Shen suggested, and led him to a metal table that had some kind of weapon on it. The size was about that of an autorifle, and the main barrel was circular and chrome, and culminated in an end with four prongs extended, all sparking with electricity. “While we didn’t have many new weapons for you, aside from Templar requests,” Shen continued. “Several engineers came up with this little weapon.”

The Commander picked it up, noting it was much lighter than he was expecting. “So what is it?”

“This,” Shen said with an amused smile. “Is the WHEEE.”

The Commander gave an absentminded nod, until his brain caught up with his ears. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The Weaponized High Explosive Energy Emitter,” Shen explained, giving a rare chuckle. “The idea was taken from the original ARC Thrower, which has sadly become rather obsolete in both use and power. The design was taken and scaled up to a full-sized cannon. The best description would be…” he paused, glancing up for inspiration. “A mobile lightning gun.”

Well, that explained the weight. He began walking to the range, shifting it around as he figured out how it weighed in various positions. “I don’t think you’ll have to test this on me,” he commented as he saw the end prongs spark. He could swear Shen sighed in relief at that. “Let’s see how this actually works.”

Shen had luckily set up several dummies at the end of a quartered off range. One was a regular stuffed dummy in the shape of a Vitakarian, or other vague humanoid, and the next was a copy, but with some light armor on it. He aimed first at the uncovered dummy, noting that the weapon sparked at the prongs, and saw a small laser beam shooting out from the WHEEE, which reminded him of the old laser weapons. The moment he applied some light pressure to the trigger, there was a sharp crack and bright flash, and the dummy was _gone_.

Only scraps of material floated down, whatever remained that hadn’t been atomized by the WHEEE bolt.

That was rather satisfying. “Impressive,” he complimented. “I don’t suppose this can be fired indefinitely?”

“Unfortunately not,” Shen said with a smile. “This current iteration can only shoot four blasts before it requires a replacement cell, and the cells take near ten minutes to fully recharge, even with elerium generators.” He motioned to the WHEEE. “However, there are three different cells built into the cannon, which you can cycle through, and the recharging process will begin immediately for the most recent cell. You’ll have to watch your fire, but we didn’t want this to be a limited-use weapon.”

“Smart,” the Commander agreed. “Time for a little more conclusive test.” He aimed for the armored dummy, wondering what would happen to the metal itself. If the person inside didn’t die from literal shock, he wondered what-

He fired another bright white bolt, and the metal turned a scorched black, and then fell to the ground as the dummy had the same reaction as the first one, which was a violent explosion.

Huh. He smiled.

“I think we have another anti-Battlemaster weapon,” he noted, cycling the cells even though he still technically had two shots left. “I don’t imagine all that metal armor would be good for him if he were to…say…get struck by lightning.”

“No,” Shen agreed as the Commander turned back to him. “I don’t think he would. This hasn’t been field-tested yet…but you can imagine why we’re pretty confident about the results.”

“Be sure to make enough of these,” the Commander said, gesturing for him to continue. “I think I’m going to keep this one.” He flipped the labeled _safety_ switch and followed Shen as they walked to a different part of the Engineering Bay.

“First I’ll demonstrate the Stargate Project,” Shen said, and they stepped into an expansive area, where there were two full-sized and identical Gateways, set a short distance from each other. Engineers were stationed at terminals close by, and connected to, the Gateways themselves.

“You figured it out,” the Commander said approvingly. “How hard was it?”

“Reverse-engineering a piece of technology that allows instant teleportation?” Shen questioned with some rare sarcasm. “Fairly. Sovereign tech is…difficult to understand, even when fully translated to English. However, on a purely scientific level, it does make some degree of sense, though how this could have possibly been discovered I cannot imagine.”

The Commander and Shen walked to the middle, in between both Gateways. “So if you can explain, how does it work?”

“The Gateways act as tuning forks, which resonates two points in space by creating a harmonic function,” Shen began, and the Commander was already having trouble following. Physics was not something he particularly liked, or was good at. “This function is designed to resonate two points in space-time.”

“Right,” the Commander said dryly. “And how does it do that?”

“By creating a compound wave constructed by a fast-fourier transform, which spikes at two points on an infinite line…” he trailed off when he saw the Commander’s face. “You don’t follow?”

“No.”

“Ok,” Shen rubbed his forehead. “The two Gateways are resonating at the same frequency, and that is how they are connected. The connection is through two points in space through the space-time fabric. So anything going in one, comes out the other. It’s not necessarily instantaneous, but the more perfect the resonance aligns between the two Gateways, the more likely people going into Gateways will exit instantly.”

He understood that. “And if the resonance isn’t perfect?”

“Two possibilities,” Shen answered. “The most common is that it takes longer to emerge from the other side of the Gateway. Instead of instantly, it could be a minute or more. People who went in didn’t report any difference in how it felt to them, as far as they were concerned, it was instantaneous. The other danger, and this was when we deliberately messed with the resonance, is that whatever goes in just vanishes.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Just vanishes? Nothing else?”

“The most likely outcome is that it was teleported, but to a location other than the second Gateway,” Shen explained. “Where that is, we can’t predict. It could be a few feet away, or the other side of the world. It’s not lethal, or so we think, but it could transport beings to dangerous locations. We didn’t test on people either, but we did need to know the potential dangers.”

The Commander looked to the Gateways. “I hope you have a safe version prepared?”

“I assumed you’d want to test it for yourself,” Shen said, pointing to the engineers manning the Gateway terminals. “Begin synchronization!”

“Synchronization beginning,” one of them called, and both the Gateways began shimmering with purple and black energy, the black hole in the center growing larger and larger as Shen and the Commander walked up to one. A few minutes later, the Commander could make out a blurry image in the Gateway, which appeared to be the very room he was in.

“Synchronization complete!” Someone called. “Resonance is stable.”

“Here goes nothing,” the Commander muttered as Shen nodded it was safe to go through. He took a single step into the Gateway and he was suddenly on the other side of the room. He blinked. It seemed anticlimactic, but he then remembered that he had literally been teleported from one position to another.

“I think it works!” He called out. He turned around and walked through the Gateway he had exited, and was immediately back beside Shen. “That was strange,” he commented. “I didn’t feel anything. It was instant.”

“The big test will be once we have Gateways across the world,” Shen said. “I expect there might be some delay, but for now, it is instantaneous. The schematics and plans are ready to be given to ADVENT, as well as construct more of our own, with your approval.”

“Done,” the Commander said instantly. “I don’t think the aliens will be pleased that we can have unlimited reinforcements now too.”

“Unlikely,” Shen agreed. “And with that, I think I’ll show you the other two projects. I think you’ll be just as pleased with the results for them.”

With what he’d seen so far, his expectations were high. “Lead the way,” he told Shen, and followed him to another part of the Engineering Bay.”

***

_The Praesidium, Barracks_

[Concerningg the continuing development of XCOM technology, it has not slowwed despite the continuing losses against aalien forces. The main reason for this is that the Commander of XCOM hass taken an extremely long view of the war ahead, and has accounted for a difficult intial defense. In addition, the presence of the Ethereal Aegiss, as well as Psion Patricia Trask has helped maintainnn morale.]

[In addition, there are severall major projects that have been in development for the pastt several months, that I am not only just learning about. The FIRESTORM, ICARUS, STARGATE projects, as well as the ADVENT PRIEST Program have all siiginificantly contributed to XCOM strategy moving forward, which I will detaail below to the best of my abilityy…]

Nuan gritted her teeth as she looked over the currently typed report. The misspellings were bad, but it wasn’t something that she could particularly fix at the moment or easily. Her prosthetics, which rested on the laptop in front of her, were more of a hindrance than a help in more delicate situations like this.

While she was still thankful to have hands, it was more…difficult to adjust than she was expecting. She hadn’t felt _right_ ever since she’d started using them, and everything she tried to do to get more used to them only highlighted just how… _odd_ she felt. She was more dexterous with them than she’d been a few weeks ago, but still…

What continually upset her was there wasn’t any _feeling_. Not like actual skin. She could control to an extent how much pressure she exerted, even if she’d shattered a few glasses every now and then. She used plastic now as a result, but that was the only stimuli she truly got. She knew _when_ she was touching something, but it barely mattered what.

Heat, cold, hard, soft; she couldn’t _feel_ anything anymore. She knew the prosthetics could withstand extreme temperatures, so she wasn’t in much _danger_ per-se, but she would have honestly preferred the ability to feel pain, over this blank _nothing_. Before this, she would have liked the ability to just ignore pain, but now she wouldn’t think of it. What people didn’t understand was that if you couldn’t feel pain, you also couldn’t feel anything _else_.

And she missed that.

It felt petty and selfish since she actually had functional limbs, but all it was reminding her of more and more was just what she had lost. It was difficult to just keep ignoring that, since it could happen at any time, even while writing a report for her superiors.

So she’d tried everything she could to take her mind off it, and decided to figure out exactly what XCOM had been doing to make the most comprehensive assessment possible. Turned out that XCOM had quite a lot of projects going which were all being completed now. Elerium was perhaps the largest game-changer, and she was debating putting in a section explaining how to use it from Vahlen’s report.

Considering the Commander’s overall attitude to giving away information, she was expecting the majority of it to be redacted. Maybe she’d have to speak to him about it. Thankfully it seemed China was actually not making any rash decisions and making sure not to antagonize ADVENT. They were no doubt still concerned, but she was breathing a little easier now that she didn’t have to worry about a Chinese-ADVENT war.

Although, once they learned the details of the PRIEST Program, that might change. China would be trying to make psions of their own, but she doubted they would have much success. The PRIEST Program would be considered a threat, but then again, pretty much everything was a threat now. If anything, they were going to be more concerned about the rapid technological progress of XCOM.

She was fully expecting Aegis to be censored as well, but maybe it would be enough for her superiors to figure out that something was causing this rapid advance. The Gateways were the largest tell and she hadn’t planned on even trying to include how they worked. There was zero chance the Commander would let that fall into Chinese hands.

“Another report by the ever-diligent Chinese agent?” Iosif commented lightly as he walked up.

“Quiet,” she muttered in return, but she was rather happy to see him. He at least didn’t have any issues talking with her, as the combination of her nationality and now perceived disability had made her more unapproachable than ever. She wouldn’t have minded too much, but sometimes the isolation was depressing.

Oddly enough, the MEC soldiers made for better conversation partners. Even if they couldn’t quite relate, they at least understood more of what she was dealing with, even if they weren’t necessarily…sympathetic. The newer-model ones that had just been converted did seem to retain at least some of their personalities, one had even made a joke, but they still seemed more imitations of personalities than the actual thing.

No, that wasn’t really fair. They just…their augmented brains must not be able to process emotions and genuine displays like regular Humans. It was a strange combination to her, they were perfectly capable of understanding various emotions, as well as breaking down causes for each, but they couldn’t really express them for themselves.

She wondered if that was actually just a cost of heavy brain modification, not necessarily related to the MECs. Either way, the MEC pilots were far from automatons that quite a few people perceived. Still, it wasn’t quite like holding a conversation with an actual person. She glanced up at Iosif. “Shouldn’t you be training those new Templars?”

“Where do you think I’ve been all day?” He asked rhetorically as he sat down by her. “I’m feeling rather good seeing the new ones come in. The aliens won’t find us as easy to kill.”

“Let’s hope so,” Nuan muttered, looking back at the laptop screen, willing herself to keep going. She _did_ need to get this done. “The Commander has had his people advance a great deal technologically.”

“I think we’ll be attacking the aliens in America next,” Iosif guessed. “Think you’ll be combat ready by then?”

Her lips twitched as she thought. “Maybe. I can handle a weapon well enough.”

“But…” he finished, clearly sensing her hesitation.

“But I’m not comfortable with these yet.” She held up the prosthetic arms. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be,” she admitted.

His eyebrows furrowed as he likely sensed she wasn’t exactly happy right now. “Is it really that bad? Have you talked with the engineers?”

“It’s not that,” she sighed, trying to think of how best to explain it. “Functionally, everything works perfectly. I can even write legibly now. My issues are more psychological, I think.” She paused. “I can’t feel anything. And that bothers me.”

“How can your hands work then?” He asked, frowning, nodding to the cup by her laptop. “You shouldn’t be able to pick that up then.”

“That’s _pressure_ sensors,” Nuan corrected. “It’s…you’ve worn heavy gloves, right? You can still handle things, but it’s more difficult and you don’t have any sensitivity in them.” She twisted a hand, exposing it to him. “That’s what this is like. Permanently.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. “That…hmm…I can see why that wouldn’t be pleasant.”

“I’ve found the best thing to do is just distract myself,” Nuan shrugged. “Exercise, research, talking; physical things mostly. Too much time alone and I just start thinking about it again.” She glanced back at her laptop. “However, some things just can’t be helped. We all have people we answer to.”

“Can I see them?” He asked suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“Your prosthetics.” He nodded to her hands. “I’ve not seen any up close, aside from the MEC pilots, and theirs are vastly different.”

She thought about it. It seemed a little strange, but Iosif probably had another point to this than just wanting to hold her hand. They were both professionals after all, and she had to admit that she would have been curious to see one up close if the positions were reversed. She didn’t answer, but extended her right hand to him, which he took rather gently, or so it looked.

He manipulated her hand lightly, turning it over, and visibly gripping it harder and lighter. “You can’t feel this?” He asked, looking up.

“I tell that something is holding onto it,” Nuan clarified. “I can’t tell the difference in how tight you’re holding me or not. Well, except if you’re barely holding on. Metal doesn’t bend easily.”

He tapped the palm of her hand. “So still nothing?”

“I know something is tapping it, but that’s it.”

“Thank you,” he said, setting her hand back on the table, which she kept there for the moment. “Have you looked into…” He paused. “Well, weaponizing them?”

She blinked. “No? I mean, I was just wanting to get used to them first.”

“Fair enough,” Iosif nodded. “But you can’t feel pain now. Honestly, something that might help might be to take advantage of this. If you can’t feel, I don’t think you’re going to come to terms with it just thinking of how much worse it is. Strength-wise, I think that only the MEC pilots are stronger than you. Maybe some of the modified soldiers like Carmelita.”

“I can punch walls and not be hurt,” she said. “I guess that’s something.”

“And you felt good, right?” Iosif asked knowingly. “Taking out frustrations on nameless walls always helps.”

“More than was probably good,” she admitted. “I really haven’t thought about these like… _that_.”

“Maybe think about it,” Iosif said. “At the very least, I bet punching an alien would feel good. I’d even say you’d make a good Templar, but if you don’t, I’d like to at least teach you some basic skills. It isn’t everyone who can punch with impunity.”

She cocked her head, somewhat surprised by the offer. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He chuckled, extending his own arm, and she saw the faintly illuminated hexagons that lined his skin from the light above. “I have Iron Skin and psionics. I think I can take a punch. Might not feel good, but if my skin can stop plasma, it can take a prosthetic punch. Besides, this would take your mind off everything else.”

Nuan didn’t really see a reason not to do it. It was a kind offer, and one she probably wouldn’t get anywhere else. “Ok, I accept… and I hope you don’t regret it.”

“Regret?” He laughed. “I highly doubt that. I wouldn’t have proposed the idea otherwise.” He stood. “Anyway, whenever you finish writing stuff for the Commander to redact, find me. I’ll be waiting.”

She pointedly ignored most of his last sentence. “I will. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Nuan,” he said with a smile. “We’re all here to help each other, regardless of what expectations are.”

A good sentiment. If only more people would follow it, they likely wouldn’t have the problems they did today.

***

_The Praesidium, MEC Suit Storage_

“You finished the Shinobi-Class MEC?” The Commander asked as they stepped into the main MEC Suit Storage area, where the suits were stored when not in use.

“We delayed it slightly, as we needed to account for several different variables the Battlemaster proposed,” Shen explained. “This is a MEC specifically designed for fighting him, and with Aegis’s help, I think he’ll be surprised at what exactly it can do.”

The Commander then saw the Shinobi MEC itself. With a pilot inside, and all powered up, the MEC itself stood twelve feet tall exactly, near the same size as the Battlemaster, which would already make the battle more even. The suit was white, and slimmer than the other MECs; more humanoid in some aspects. Every part of the joints and limbs were covered in a smooth metal layer, even if it was clearly not as much as a Marauder or Ballista-class.

There were two tanks of something on the back, and both wrists had attachments built into the limb itself, which didn’t stand out, but were clearly to be used for dispersing something. What that could be, the Commander could only guess at this point. There were also strange attachments on each of the joints, small, blunt protrusions that appeared to be a mesh, with a faint blue glow underneath.

The weapons it held was where his attention was directed. The right hand held a massive longsword, which seemed to be not quite as long as the Battlemaster’s, but at least eight feet long, and with equally large proportions for the hilt size and width. It had an upward angled crossguard, and a block pommel. The other hand held a dark grey rectangle shield, with the XCOM logo emblazoned on it in black.

“Impressive,” the Commander said, nodding in approval. “I assume it does more than just fight with a sword and shield?”

“Certainly,” Shen said with a nod, as Aegis also then stepped into the room. “Aegis will demonstrate it in a simulated battle.”

“While not perfect, Shen and his team have made an excellent effort to combat the Battlemaster,” Aegis said, not stopping as a purple psionic sword of his own appeared in one of his hands. “I am no swordsman, but I can provide an effective demonstration.”

The Commander was amused to see that Aegis was actually in the inferior position here since he was several feet smaller, but certainly didn’t act like it was a problem. He swung his psionic sword and the MEC answered by meeting the strike, then immediately began going on the offensive, raining down a series of sword blows and strikes that the Commander would not have thought possible. It seemed to him even faster than the Battlemaster.

“In theory, MEC pilots should have faster reaction times than purely organic beings,” Shen commented as Aegis was forced to use additional defensive psionics to protect himself, as the Shinobi used both the sword and shield offensively; stabbing with the sword while bashing the shield into Aegis when he wasn’t expecting it. “This includes the Battlemaster. We can’t fully match his charging ability, but we can try and react to it better.”

The Shinobi was also extremely mobile for a twelve-foot machine. The Commander noted that there were several small jets built into the legs, feet, and back of the MEC which fired off intermittently as the Shinobi moved, which must have been precisely controlled by the pilot since it never seemed to hinder the suit in any way.

Aegis apparently got tired of being attacked, and thrust out a hand, lifting the Shinobi into the air and tossing it back, then leaping forward to continue the assault. The jets on the Shinobi flared, and while it didn’t quite have a smooth landing, it recovered extremely quickly, despite losing its shield. While the sword hand blocked Aegis’s strike, holding him in a sword lock, the other arm raised and shot out a stream of white mist towards the Ethereal.

Aegis fell back, covering himself in a psionic shield as the Shinobi advanced, wrist raised and spraying more of it in his direction. “Liquid nitrogen,” Shen explained. “A potential way to slow the Battlemaster down, or any other fast alien. If nothing else, he’ll want to stay away from it.”

“Clever,” the Commander noted slowly. “I assume it can be adapted for other chemicals?”

“Yes,” Shen confirmed. “Acid, napalm, white phosphorus, thermite. The only thing that we didn’t design it for was chlorine triflouride for…obvious reasons.”

Aegis extended a hand, and the MEC froze in place, as it was caught telekinetically. Aegis moved around it, and suddenly there was a blue flash, making Aegis stumble back, freeing the MEC. It leapt toward Aegis, sword in hand and Aegis barely got his own psionic blade up to deflect it, as he was still dazed.

“Short-range electric pulse,” Shen clarified. “The Battlemaster wears metal armor. He is vulnerable to electricity, and if the Shinobi is stuck telekinetically, they can emit this and it should disrupt his control. Unfortunately it needs a brief recharging period, but it is effective, as you can see with Aegis who doesn’t even have that.”

“It certainly looks like it will hold up well,” the Commander complimented. “Anything else it can do?”

“Those are the main features,” Shen said, motioning to the two duelists. “Stand down! Demonstration finished!” The Shinobi stood down immediately, and the psionic blade and shield around Aegis dissipated as he straightened.

“As you can see,” Aegis said. “I believe this will provide an adequate challenge to the Battlemaster.”

“Ah, one more thing,” Shen motioned to Aegis. “Stab her in the arm with the sword. There is another feature we added.”

“Certainly,” Aegis took the offered sword from the Shinobi and stabbed towards the arm. The Commander assumed this was part of the demonstration, even if it was an unconventional way of showing it off. Aegis had to turn the blade to the heat setting, but he pushed the tip through and withdrew quickly. Mere seconds later, the gaping wound leaking liquid and oil began closing, until a few seconds later there was no visible wound at all.

“Self-healing MELD nanites,” Shen confirmed. “We expect the Battlemaster will land several blows, and knowing him, most will be critical. The Shinobi suit has repairing nanites to repair surface damage, and internal nanites to regulate internal systems. Not an infinite supply, mind you, but it will increase survivability significantly.”

“The sword can be configured to be attached to the hand of the suit,” Aegis added. “As can the shield. However, it is an optional function that varies on the style of the pilots in question.”

The Commander smiled grimly. “I’m looking forward to the Battlemaster encountering this. Especially with Templars…”

“Or soldiers in general,” Shen said. “I imagine that a Shinobi-Templar-WHEEE combination might be enough to overcome even him. No superweapons required.”

“I would not become overconfident,” Aegis warned. “This will cause problems for the Battlemaster, but he will adapt.”

“Maybe,” the Commander agreed. “But I think sooner or later he’ll reach a limit.”

Shen motioned to the MEC, and the Shinobi walked off. “While we’re here, Commander, I do want to appraise you of another project that isn’t officially in production yet.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. Shen doing something off the record. This was unexpected. “Nothing too outlandish, I hope?”

“Depends on your definition,” Shen said slowly, and began leading him to another section of the Engineering Bay, with Aegis following closely behind. “You recall the Athena Contingency?”

“I wrote it,” the Commander snorted. “Of course I do.”

“But as of yet, no steps have been taken in case we…need it,” Shen pointed out hesitantly. “Considering our precarious position…I do think that is a mistake. Even with our advances, we are still far from posing a dangerous threat to the larger Collective, much less more powerful Ethereals.”

The Commander suddenly frowned, recalling _exactly_ what the Athena Contingency entailed. The implications were not… _bad_ …but it was one where there were a very limited number of good outcomes. He hadn’t started work on it for a reason. This needed to be something that was handled very, _very_ carefully. “Please don’t tell me you have a-“

“No,” Shen quickly clarified. “Not a sentient one. More of a…let’s say, proof of concept.”

“This is dangerous.” Aegis commented.

“I assume you read my mind?” Shen sighed.

“When it comes to machines, relying on them is dangerous, and giving them abilities to reason is cataclysmic,” Aegis answered. “There is a reason we avoided artificial intelligence. We observed multiple alien species believe they could harness the advanced capabilities of an AI. All of them were eventually betrayed by it, or otherwise sabotaged. One of the most likely theories as to what the Synthesized are is an AI that turned on its creators. You are playing with something you do not understand, Raymond Shen. I would advise-“

“You can _advise_ all you wish,” Shen retorted, surprisingly sounding irritated with the Ethereal as they stepped into a circular room that was filled with alien computers that the Commander recognized from various UFOs. “But the fact is that our options and tools are limited. If you continue to not provide more tangible assistance, then we need to explore other possibilities. And since you admit that the Ethereals are unfamiliar with this field, I hardly think you are in a position to lecture us about the dangers.”

“I have seen where this leads.” Aegis stated flatly. “It has never turned out positively.”

“ _Enough_ ,” the Commander demanded, raising a hand, looking at Shen. “Doctor, what exactly do you have to show me?”

“Yes,” Shen adjusted his glasses. “The CODEX system was what I am interested in. While it is not a true artificial intelligence, it can perform many functions and has an ability to respond to stimuli that is extremely similar to theoretical AI concepts. However, it cannot go beyond this, as there are programming blocks that prevent it from ever being able to answer or think outside the designated parameters.”

“So you took a CODEX and did what?” The Commander asked.

“The first thing I did was set up a working CODEX,” Shen said, walking over to one of the consoles. “It relies on databases for all information, as well as connections to UFOs or other systems. I and a small team created a system disconnected from any networks or systems. This still is not connected to any XCOM database.”

“At least you are sensible.” Aegis commented.

“And…here.” Shen pressed a button, and a solid blue hologram of the CODEX figure appeared, but instead of a faceless head, it instead appeared to be an older man, with glasses and thinning hair. He appeared to be based off a real person, but who that was, the Commander couldn’t guess. “As you can see, I made some visual changes. The CODEX system has quite a bit of untapped versatility, but the default is the faceless golden figure, with Female Voice Two, to be specific.”

“I see,” the Commander looked at the hologram closely. “Where are you?” He asked the hologram.

“I am currently, error: Location unknown,” the hologram answered in a generic male voice without any inflection. “Error: Data not found; Error: Database connection lost; Error: Local systems not accessible; Error: Likelihood of memory corruption: One Hundred percent.”

“Quiet,” Shen called to the hologram. “He’s not connected to anything. You won’t be able to ask him anything without getting roughly fifteen error messages.”

“‘He’?” Aegis said skeptically.

“Better than _it_ ,” Shen shrugged. “I doubt you referred to the CODEX as ‘it’ either.”

“Does he have a name?” The Commander asked, amused. “Or at least the system itself?”

“Yes,” Shen said, as he continued working at the terminal. “The JULIAN System. Named after a friend who worked in artificial intelligence. Expert programmer and my teacher many years ago.” Shen paused. “I’m afraid he passed away several years ago. I felt it fitting to name what may be the first artificial intelligence after him.”

“Fair enough,” the Commander nodded.

“I’m sure your friend would appreciate you jeopardizing the Human race in his name,” Aegis commented. “But the sentiment is commendable.”

“Comments like that aside, I do have another demonstration,” Shen said. “And…now. JULIAN, identify the following people in this room.”

“Current residents in the area,” JULIAN said in the same monotone. “Three: Jack Young, Shen Trey, Pablo Roberto. Do you have further inquiries?”

“No,” Shen shook his head. “Shut down.” JULIAN vanished as he continued explaining. “Even with a temporary database, I didn’t want to use actual data, so I simply put our pictures with different names. But you can see that it works near-instantly.”

The Commander scratched his chin as he thought. AI was not something he wanted done in secret, or with only a few people. While Shen had his heart in the right place, Aegis had a very good point that an _actual_ AI was not something they had much experience with. “I’m expanding this to a full operation; find the best experts in artificial intelligence and put them on making this work _safely_. And I want to be appraised of _every_ development. You don’t do things like connecting it to external sources, or giving it increased capabilities without _my_ approval.” He looked to Shen. “This looks good so far, but this is either being done correctly, or not at all. We can’t take the chance.”

He glanced up at the Ethereal. “And you are going to work with Aegis on this. While he clearly doesn’t like AIs, I’d rather he disapprove and keep you from doing something stupid than have him not be involved at all. And this _is_ going forward Aegis, even with the dangers.”

“I do not like it,” Aegis said. “But I will have to ensure you do not cause lasting damage.”

“Good enough,” the Commander nodded, before looking to Shen. “Now, let’s see what else you have to show off.”

***

_The Praesidium, Archangel Testing Area_

“Coming in hot!” Sierra called out as she angled her armor to prepare for the rapid insertion. “Ted, Anna, you with me?”

 _“Copy, Sierra,”_ Ted Holden answered, sounding way too excited about this. _“Right behind you. Ready for this?”_

  _“We are completely not,”_ Anna Pavlova disputed, slightly stammering as they approached the ground. _“Fuck you and your idiot plans, Sierra_.”

“Noted,” Sierra grinned as the target zone was highlighted on her HUD. She’d wanted to try this ever since she’d strapped on the Archangel armor. She would never have thought she’d be in this position, but now she didn’t want to be anywhere else. “Prepare to cut jets.”

A few seconds later the HUD flashed yellow, and she flipped her body up vertically, flared her jets with a mental command which briefly slowed her, and then cut the power and fell to the ground feet first. The first time she’d done anything like this she’d thought for sure she was committing suicide, but much to her surprise, the Muscle Fiber Density modification _did_ let her drop entire stories without any damage whatsoever.

And it worked especially well for Archangel drops. She landed on the sandy metal flat filled with targets with a sharp thud, and immediately began firing her gauss rifle at the targets. Ted landed right beside her and thrust out his arms, which were encircled with psionic energy. Purple beams shot from them, incinerating the targets in question.

Anna landed on the other side, and began firing her own autorifle, marching forward as she fired, turning the targets into metal scraps and pieces of material. “Targets eliminated,” Sierra said. “Launch!” She triggered the launch command manually, and jumped into the air. She’d memorized the exact time needed for the jets to fully turn on, and timed correctly, she could be in the air again nearly instantly.

Ted whooped as they flew back into the midnight desert sky. _“Now that was a combat drop!”_

 _“Fifteen seconds and thirty-two targets removed,”_ Anna commented as they circled the sky. _“Not bad for a first try.”_

“I think I came in a little too early,” Sierra said, thinking on the drop. “I could have waited another second before killing the jets.”

 _“Good run,”_ the voice of Shen said. _“Perform air-to-ground assault on Section 7. I’ll let you decide how to handle it.”_

“Copy,” Sierra confirmed, and began angling her body and jets towards the section. Controlling the armor had taken some getting used to, and for a while she’d mostly gone through various stages of crashing it into walls and sand. But the moment when she’d actually flown in the air for a decent amount of time, and landed it without stumbling had been one of the best feelings ever.

The armor itself was largely controlled by a kind of neural interface, which was a much less invasive version of the MEC implants. Each time she technically had to be connected to the suit, and that allowed her a surprising amount of control over it. Everything vital was displayed on the HUD, but for direction, speed, and intensity, she mostly just had to think about it, and the suit would usually respond. It was a difficult thing to explain, but while the Archangel armor was bulkier than Aegis armor, she didn’t really feel it at all.

Complicating controls slightly were small pads in the boots that when pressed by the toes, gave the jet on that leg an extra boost. It had taken some time to not accidentally press it while flying, but now she was good at keeping her feet still unless she needed a little extra control. She’d spent enough time in the suit that some of the more complicated maneuvers were starting to become familiar.

 _“Section 7 is urban chokeholds, yes?”_ Anna asked. _“Or is that 8?”_

“No, 7 is urban chokeholds,” Sierra confirmed, a grin stretching across her face once she said that. “Firestorm tactic?”

 _“Oh yeah,”_ Ted said gleefully. _“Think I’ll let you ladies take point. I’ll destroy whatever you miss.”_

Sierra checked her fuel levels for the suit heavy weapon. Archangel armor had several different integrated attachments, chemical dispensers and heavy lasers being chief among them, and the flamethrower was without a doubt her favorite weapon she had yet to use. “Anna, you take street two.”

 _“Understood,”_ she confirmed and sped past her as Section 7 approached. It was a mock city block created, with several buildings filling a small web of streets. No skyscrapers unfortunately, but it provided a good enough simulation. And on the streets were dummies in fake cover, presumably attacking allied or XCOM forces.

 _“Pulling up to the center,”_ Ted informed her and flew upwards until he was stationed more or less in the center of the section, having a clear view of everything, His arms were encircled in violent psionic energy as he waited to unleash it.

“Prepping flamethrower and coming around for the first pass,” Sierra stated as she manually prepped her flamethrower. She wasn’t as familiar with the weapon, and didn’t want to rely on mental commands through the suit with it yet. The Commander was probably watching, and he would want to see everything working.

She circled around, took a breath, and then sped forward, lining up with the street she was planning to strafe. She stuck her rifle to the attachment on her chest, which kept it in place temporarily as she got closer to the ground. Now came her favorite part. “Firing.” At the correct mental command, napalm shot out the nozzle on her left wrist, covering the entire street.

Sierra was now prepared for the kickback of the weapon, and had adjusted the strength of her jets to compensate. Once she reached the end of the street, and therefore the enemy line, she ceased the napalm stream and angled herself upward, shooting for the sky with a victorious cheer of her own.

 _“Strafing run complete,”_ Anna updated, and as Sierra angled herself around, she saw Anna’s chosen street burning as well. Ted was also shooting lances of psionic energy at the dummies that hadn’t been incinerated, which was almost none, bless his excitable little heart.

 _“You know, I wish you had missed a few more,”_ Ted commented, as he flew up to where they were congregating. _“I didn’t really do anything.”_

 _“Hey, the lights looked pretty,”_ Anna joked. _“All we did was set some things on fire.”_

 _“Good work, all of you,”_ Shen interrupted. _“Return to Praesidium entrance. Nothing fancy when you come in.”_

“Roger,” Sierra acknowledged. “We’re on our way.”

She turned herself around, and they shot back across the desert towards the Praesidium. In retrospect, she considered herself very lucky she’d decided to go check out just what XCOM had been working on that one day, because if she hadn’t, she likely wouldn’t have been asked if she wanted to join the program, and she would have missed out on the ability to fly.

Flying was, unequivocally, awesome. There wasn’t a better word to describe it.

Granted, it probably wouldn’t be _quite_ as fun when aliens were shooting at her, but she was more or less invincible, so she wasn’t quite as worried about that as she probably should have been. She wasn’t the only one of the current soldiers who were asked. She was an outlier in that she really didn’t have any kind of air experience whatsoever. Most everyone else had a background in parachute insertions, or other paratrooper activities. Anna was an Air Force TRF, and Ted had been a paratrooper.

All the new soldiers recruited specifically for the Archangel Program were all experienced pilots or paratroopers. All things considered, she felt she was holding her own pretty well. It helped that she completely loved doing this.

“Coming in for a landing,” Sierra said as she saw the landing pad, where Shen, the Commander, and a few other Archangels were standing. Per the orders, she took it slow, and angled herself up vertically about fifteen feet above the ground and killed the jets; falling to the ground and landing upright, Ted and Anna right behind her.

“Impressive,” the Commander complimented, inclining his head. “It sounds like you had fun.”

“As much fun as can be had, Commander,” she said tactfully. While she most certainly had, it might be best not to visibly have _too_ much fun. “I expect things will become more serious in actual combat. But we are well-prepared.”

“We’ll find out shortly,” the Commander said, turning to Shen. “The pilots you have certainly seem skilled enough. Would you consider them combat-ready?”

“That is more of a question for the respective Dominion Archangels,” Shen said, cracking a smile. He hadn’t quite gotten into the whole titles they’d decided on, but since they were coming up with entirely new military divisions, most of them had decided to give themselves appropriately decent titles. Which the Commander seemed to recognize.

“Taking the whole ‘angel’ theme seriously, I see,” he said dryly.

Sierra smirked. “All the psions get neat titles, Commander,” she pointed out. “Only fair we get some of our own.”

“Well in that case, what do they think?” He said turning to the two Dominion Archangels, the ones with the most experience both with the suits and aerial operations in general.

There was Nu Jung-Hwan, who just went by Hwan, one of the most experienced South Korean pilots in their entire military. In his off time he was also proficient in multiple martial arts and had taken up swordplay as a hobby. Naturally, he was one of the few Templar Archangels, and there wasn’t anyone who had picked up on how to use the suit as well as he had.

Since he’d apparently helped design it, that wasn’t a surprise. Even with the limited time the suits had actually been able to be used, he was a natural at it, pulling off insertions at incredible distances and leaving again in mere seconds.

The other was Viktoria Hammarström, who had quite possibly the best name Sierra had ever heard. She was special beyond her name though, since she was originally part of the Swedish Parachute Rangers, and was also a natural with the Archangel suit. However, aside from being more tactically-minded, she was also a Leviathan-class Psion, and with the Offensive aptitude of powers.

While still getting used to her psionic abilities, Sierra had witnessed her destroy the entirety of Section 7 once with some kind of psionic maelstrom. She was going to give Patricia a run for her money if she kept training.

“Most I believe are sufficiently combat ready,” Hwan stated confidently. “Some of the Templars have yet to fully master aerial melee combat adequately, as some are not in acceptable control of the suit. But who you saw today are quite ready, as I’m sure you’d agree.”

“I concur,” Viktoria agreed. “There is little more that can be learned from repeated exercises outside of actual combat. The Archangels here are more than adequate for combat.”

“Excellent,” the Commander said. “In that case, I would prepare yourselves. We will be taking the fight to the aliens in the next few days. I would advise that you be ready.”

They all saluted. “Yes, Commander.”

“Then return to your training,” the Commander said, returning the salute. “I look forward to seeing you in action against the aliens themselves.”

Sierra couldn’t agree more.

***

_The Praesidium, Practice Ranges_

Oliver did have to admit that the new gene mods really did make a difference. He had literally hit every single target at maximum range and it had genuinely not been that difficult for him. He was going to have to ask that XCOM get some harder practice ranges, because it was almost stupidly easy now.

He hadn’t been the only one there either, and some of them had sort of tried to see who could make the most impressive trickshot. He was too old to really do stuff like that, and it might have irritated him before the mandatory upgrades. But considering how accurate he was with a _pistol_ of all things, he was less offended by professional soldiers not taking a practice range completely seriously.

But he was done now, and would have been on his way back had he not spotted a very much armored Carmelita sitting in the background with some tools and a paint can of all things, working on something. He had to at least go and see what that was about. “Expecting trouble?” He asked, making her glance up.

“Oliver, right?” She said in her soft voice, looking at his face inquisitively.

“Yes.” He looked down at the table. “Project?”

Carmelita seemed to be working on some kind of helmet. It wasn’t the standard one issued to Assault-class soldiers, but a design he’d never seen before. It reminded him more of an astronauts helmet, if the faceplate was complete black and not transparent, as well as the overall design being more oval to fit the head better.

He raised an eyebrow, and he broke into a smirk once he saw what Carmelita had painted on the front of the helmet. It was a smiley face of all things, in a bright Wal-Mart yellow, with two slits for eyes and a curved line underneath for a mouth. Nothing original, but it was _not_ something he was expecting to see on a helmet. “Ah, what is that?”

Carmelita looked at the helmet fondly as she flipped it in her hands. “This,” she said, looking up. “Is one of the few unsolved mysteries in XCOM. It’s an old helmet, one of the first-gen kinds. As far as I know, only one was made and I found it, and didn’t want it to go to waste.”

“That’s the mystery?” He asked. It seemed rather benign to him.

“Nope,” she clarified. “Back in the beginning, this actually belonged to a sniper. No one ever figured out anything about him since he didn’t talk, but we had to go along with it. He never showed his face and only communicated in sign language.”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why? And isn’t that dangerous?”

“Never found that out,” Carmelita shrugged. “And you would think, but we somehow managed to make it work. Probably because the sniper was actually one of the best I’ve seen. I think he came with the Commander, but no one knows for sure that I could find.”

“He had a sense of humor, clearly,” Oliver said, looking down at the helmet.

Carmelita gave a sad smile. “No, a…friend…he found out where the sniper was hiding out, and made some ‘adjustments’ to the helmet.” Her eyes unfocused as she looked sightlessly into the distance. “Needless to say, the sniper was not amused, but I guess he liked it enough to keep it.”

Oliver found that very amusing. “Who? I’d give him thanks for creativity. That’s rather brilliant. And terrifying.” He added after a few seconds of thought.

“His name was Shawn,” Carmelita said with a sigh. “He’s dead. Chryssalid.”

“Oh.” That detail suddenly put this in a new context for him. Considering how Carmelita was acting, he suspected that this Shawn had been…important to her. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Especially if he’d died to a chryssalid. Hopefully it had been quick and not as a reanimated corpse carrying eggs.

“Appreciated,” she said tonelessly. “His was one of the first deaths. Hamburg. I should have been sent with him. He might have lived.”

 _Or, if he died by chryssalid, you would have had to shoot him_. He privately thought, but didn’t say aloud. “Not necessarily. I think you know that.”

She pursed her lips. “I was a better soldier than him. His chances would have been better with me protecting him.”

“Protecting?” He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words.”

“Don’t play coy, I doubt you’re an idiot,” she stated flatly. “I doubt it’s ‘interesting’ either. You try and protect the people you care about, right? Even if you know they can do that themselves?”

“True,” he admitted. “Although I’m afraid not in the same context as you.”

“Count yourself lucky,” Carmelita said coldly. “Mira was right. Attachments never work out in our line of work. All it will eventually cause is pain.”

The name was unfamiliar to him. “Another friend?”

“Wouldn’t call her that,” Carmelita said. “She’s dead too.” Carmelita looked thoughtfully around. “It’s funny. There aren’t really any survivors from the original team of soldiers. Only Patricia and Abby are still alive, and me. It’s strange, somehow managing to endure while everyone dies around you. I don’t want to think how many of the new people just coming in will die in the war.”

“That seems defeatist,” Oliver commented.

“Maybe,” she said slowly. “But all I can do is what Shawn would want. He would want XCOM protected, and I shall do that.”

“You’re only doing this for him?” Oliver asked.

“Not completely,” Carmelita shook her head. “He would _want_ me to protect XCOM. But the only thing I really care about is avenging him, and every other Human killed in this war. I will either see all the alien worlds burning, or I will die. There is no peace with the aliens, regardless of what some think. They must be driven extinct, and I will work until my dying breath of make that a reality.”

Oliver felt like he was on thin ice right now. “You don’t seem to have much of a problem with the aliens here.”

“They are allied,” she said simply. “They are a danger, but one that can be controlled. That is the only possibility I see for aliens should we win. They will submit to us, or they will die. I would personally prefer the second option.”

“I see.” Oliver was not quite sure how to take this. He’d known Carmelita unsettled him on some level, but had largely chalked it up to her serious charisma and natural intimidation. But now he knew it was because he was quite sure she was a sociopath who would not be dissimilar to how some aliens probably viewed humanity. She didn’t seem unstable, not in the usual sense.

He’d seen broken people before. If the loss of her lover would snap her, it would have happened long ago. She was at a stage where that chance had passed, and all that mattered to her was vengeance, and she was perhaps one of the most dangerous women you could have for an enemy. When she said she intended to kill or virtually enslave every alien, he was inclined to believe her.

He wondered where the Commander stood in regards to her.

“So whatever happened to the sniper?” He asked, changing the topic. “Did he die too?”

“No one knows, actually,” Carmelita stated. “The mystery, as I mentioned earlier. He just sort of…vanished. XCOM Intelligence actually started up around that time, so I assume he was transferred there. But no one actually knows. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s doing fine. I don’t see him dying easily.”

She flipped the helmet in her hands. “In the meantime, I’m going to use this. Maybe give the aliens something else to fear.” She put it on her head; Oliver heard it hiss as it clicked. “How does it look?”

She stood before him, fully armored. “Rather terrifying, actually,” he said honestly. A smiley face should not be scary, but knowing who Carmelita was, and the happy simplicity of the smiley face, it seemed ironically malicious. It might be funny, had said woman it belonged to not been carrying an alloy cannon, had a stinger that still made him shiver when she used it, and generally was a ruthless killing machine.

“Good,” she said. “I think he’d like me using his work this way.”

 Oliver suspected that Shawn had likely intended it as a joke, and not a symbol for the aliens to fear, but then again, he might be wrong. “A good way to carry on his memory.”

“Yes, exactly,” she said, looking into the distance. “If I’m going to survive this war, I don’t want to forget what I fought for. This will help remind me.” She began walking away, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not often I have an actual conversation with people these days. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he said as she walked off.

He wondered if he should keep an eye out for her, but decided against it. Whatever Carmelita did, there was almost no chance he’d be able to impact it one way or another, and he did _not_ want to get in her way.

She already had entire alien species marked for death. He suspected that one older man wouldn’t even make her blink. Best not to risk it until he talked with her some more.

***

_The Praesidium, Hangar Bay 2_

The Commander smiled as Shen brought him into the Hangar. “About time we had a modern fighter.”

Before him were ten of the new Firestorms, the first of the next-generation XCOM air force. The design had taken initial inspiration from the Sectoid UFOs, but had stripped down the superfluous aspects, and was ultimately much smaller. It had a single cockpit, and the back half of the Firestorm was a semi-circle containing the engine, the front half holding the cockpit and tipped ‘wings’, even though it was an aircraft that didn’t rely on such anymore.

“Adapting the alien anti-gravity systems was one of the easiest parts in constructing the fighter,” Shen said as they took a closer look. The Commander liked how sleek the fighter was. No wasted space or unneeded accessories. “Once elerium was solved, it was only a matter of shrinking the necessary parts to an acceptable size.”

“How does it pilot?” The Commander asked, peering into the cockpit.

“At the moment, the actual controls are not dissimilar to current fighter aircraft,” Shen explained. “Depending on how the Archangel Program turns out, we may investigate a means of similar connection between a pilot and a Firestorm.”

“And weapons?”

“Varies,” Shen said, motioning to the location of the twin guns, one on each side of the cockpit, within two sheets of metal which obscured it from being that visible. “We attempted to make it possible to swap out different weapons, but it was ultimately simpler to have slightly different models of Firestorms. One with laser capabilities, and one with gauss cannons.”

The Commander nodded, looking at the Firestorm. “Sustained laser, I assume?”

“Yes, and initial simulations are very promising,” Shen said, rapping his knuckles on the hull. “I think you’ll be surprised at how much this can be applied to aerial bombardment. Firestorms do not have to be in motion. They can hold and fire from hovering positions. Essentially, this means a Firestorm can function as a mobile turret in the sky, and in the case of the laser variant, precision at long distances is a feature.”

Now that was very good to have. The Commander wondered if the Sectoid UFOs had ever been considered to perform similar functions. The UFOs had the capability of hovering and firing, as Patricia had demonstrated during the first battle of Japan. For that matter, he wondered just how much of their navy he hadn’t seen.

By Aegis’s own admission, the Sectoid fleet was only one part. There was the Ethereal Dreadnought, but to date he didn’t believe that they had seen Vitakara or Andromedon crafts. He wasn’t counting the transports. And they had to have additional types of aircraft, such as bombers and frigates.

He wondered just how much the Firestorms would force the Collective to deploy to stop them. The basic UFOs probably wouldn’t cut it anymore. They had died to _conventional_ weaponry, much less this kind of aircraft.

“And this is spaceworthy?” He asked, remembering that had been a requirement he’d put in.

“Correct,” Shen said with a nod. “There are life support systems, and the Firestorm can operate in zero-g environments without major issues. Oxygen supplies last twelve hours, and the hull is durable enough for atmospheric exit and reentry.”

“And no fuel needed,” he added, just to be clear on its capabilities. “Just elerium?”

“Yes, the only thing that needs to be changed is the elerium crystals that power the engines,” Shen said. “And elerium crystals of that size last a _long_ time. There is little worry about the Firestorm suddenly running out of power. Multiple contingencies are in place to prevent that concern.”

“On that note…” the Commander began, after a few seconds of silence. “The Avenger Project.”

“Undergoing some revisions,” Shen said, adjusting his glasses. “While the schematics Aegis provided are useful, it was a prototype Andromedon ship, and one with some flaws in it. We are going to improve on the design, and then we will need to build a facility large enough to house it.”

“Leave that to Jackson,” the Commander assured him. “Just give her the size. We can have a suitable facility done in several months.”

“By then we’ll have a schematic in place,” Shen said. “To be honest, that is our initial concern. The Praesidium is large, but I expect that the Avenger-class ship itself will be the same size.”

“We’ll have to be careful with it,” the Commander said, thinking. “I don’t want to lose it to someone like Caelior. Or the Battlemaster for that matter.”

“I have some ideas to lessen the risk,” Shen assured him with a faint smile. “Depending on how the JULIAN Project turns out, that may be one way. Alternatively, I have found some rather curious schematics based on Sovereign technology, which I do not believe the Collective has taken note of.”

“Really?” The Commander said skeptically. “Why?”

“Because if I understand some of them correctly, they allow things to be done that shouldn’t be possible,” Shen said, then shook his head. “But that is a completely different topic. I trust you are satisfied with the Firestorms?”

“Very,” the Commander nodded. “I look forward to seeing them in action.”

“I think the pilots are eager to find out for themselves,” Shen chuckled. “I expect soon we will give them what they want.”

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room_

“I’m curious,” the Commander said. “Do you think you can defeat the Imperator?”

“Alone?” Aegis answered flatly, standing almost motionless opposite him; the holotable in between. “No.”

The Commander smirked humorlessly. “That was fast.”

“The Imperators were the most powerful of our kind by a significant margin,” Aegis said. “I am not delusional about how I compare. Nor any other Ethereal either, I suspect.”

“Right,” the Commander said slowly. “And you did know about this before defecting to us?”

“Yes.”

“So,” the Commander crossed his arms. “Despite that, you still felt it worth the risk. You never actually explained why you did it, besides disagreements with how our species was handled.”

“Because the Imperator is both apathetic and practical,” Aegis said. “Upon reflection, my kind have been…poor leaders. Only a select few of us have bothered to ensure that the Collective is something strong enough to fight the Synthesized, or any other enemy. But the rest? Unfortunately other aliens are of less importance to them. The Imperator does not care what happens to the Collective, so long as they eventually follow his orders.”

“But aside from that, anything goes?” The Commander said.

“Not once has he interacted with any alien representative,” Aegis said. “Which is why his continued interest in Patricia is disquieting. He may not hold aliens in high regard, but for some reason, your species he considers different. He plans in terms of decades, not weeks, or even years. I suspect over time he realized that both of us held significantly different views, and slowly cut me out of his inner circle.”

Aegis sounded rather offended as he spoke. “I do not understand his motives anymore, nor his strategy, if there ever was one he shared with me. There was only one way to effectively call attention to our isolated leader, and that was to leave. And XCOM was the natural place to head to. That, and the Sovereign Ones gave us the location of this planet for a reason. Under the Imperator, I feel your potential would be wasted. I will not sacrifice our chance against the Synthesized for _loyalty_.”

The Commander wasn’t completely sure if Aegis was telling the whole truth, but it sounded right. “Yet you say he considers our species different.”

“Yes,” Aegis reaffirmed. “I suspect it is simply your psionic potential. The Gift is exceedingly rare, and those with it can eventually pose a threat…or be turned into an asset.”

“So,” the Commander said, looking down at the holotable. “If you cannot fight the Imperator and win, what is your plan to defeat him?”

“I do not anticipate he will be defeated,” Aegis said bluntly. “Your species, like it or not, will not win this war. The best you can do is extract too heavy a toll to justify continued assaults. Perhaps you will kill one or two of my kind. But you will not win completely. You are not facing just us, but the Greater Hive Commanders, Andromedon Federation, and the Aui’Vitakar. Even should you build an army of psions, it will not be enough.”

“So you want them to sue for peace.” The Commander stated flatly. “You actually think that we would just accept that after everything that has happened? And do you really think the Imperator would just _forget_ that there is an entire species that was able to hold off his entire alien Collective?”

“As I said, the Imperator is practical,” Aegis repeated. “While I cannot speak for your species, if the Collective offers peace, I suggest you take it. The Imperator is the only one who can stop this war now, and if nothing else, he will keep his word. Though I expect there will be some stipulations.”

“And I think you’re being naïve,” the Commander responded, furrowing his eyebrows. “You’ve said yourself he likely has plans for us. Do you really think he’d abandon them, especially if he is as powerful as you say? What is to just stop him from coming himself and finishing it?”

“Because you are beneath his attention,” Aegis said, clearly frustrated. “You do not have a concept of how little you and your species ultimately matter, which can be forgiven, given the circumstances, but it is the truth. The _Imperator_ would only fight if he actually considered you a threat. Whatever his plans are, they are decades if not centuries into the future. He has no doubt planned for such a contingency as extracting too high a toll from the Collective.”

“And what could such a contingency be?” The Commander asked. “If you said he wouldn’t break his word, that does not leave many options.”

“I expect that, should the situation worsen, the Imperator will order an autopsy of the entire Collective, and this war to figure out what went wrong,” Aegis said. “After a retreat, he will likely hold the Collective back for a century or two, wait until the prominent figures like you have grown old and died, and the war with the Collective is a distant memory. Your species will likely be different at that time, and throughout this I expect that the Imperator will order humanity be exposed to aliens on a gradual peaceful basis. The Vitakara are ideal for this.”

The Commander saw where Aegis was going with this, and he did not like it. “At some point, the Imperator will have the Collective extend an offer, allowing Humanity to join them. I doubt that the xenophobia your species currently feels will last by this time, and this will no doubt be accepted as a ‘fresh start,’ I believe the saying is. And humanity officially becomes part of the Collective, no war required.”

Aegis paused. “In the end, all you have accomplished in the grand scope will be the delaying of the Imperator’s plans by several centuries. Perhaps he will not even wait that long before beginning an incursion of the inner galaxy.”

The Commander pursed his lips. There was the Ethereal longevity in action. Time was not something that really affected them, while age would eventually kill any Human. Unfortunately, Aegis had a good point. Two hundred years was a long time, minimum, and even he wasn’t sure he would be able to prevent a more naïve humanity from falling to a hypothetical Imperator offer to join the Collective.

The Imperator, whatever his motivations, and whatever his plans, was not an idiot. Mostly. Despite bungling Humanity so spectacularly, the Commander figured he would learn from this. Which meant that there couldn’t be any surrender, peace offer or no. There were no good options. Keep on fighting, they might very likely die, and stop fighting, and the Imperator won the war later.

“Whatever happens, you have changed the Collective forever,” Aegis told him, maybe trying to reassure him. “Few could do what your species has, and that is-”

“No.” The Commander interrupted bluntly. “I don’t care about that. You’re expecting to lose.”

“I am not expecting to win.” Aegis clarified.

“I am not interested in _peace_ ,” the Commander stated. “That is impossible at this point. I don’t care really _what_ you think our chances are, but if you’re going to be here, you are going to help us on the assumption that we will _win_.” He held up a hand, forestalling any comments. “Now, will we? Maybe, maybe not. But we’re damn well going to try. We’re not trying to damage the Collective, we are trying to _destroy_ them. It may take years, or even decades, but you had better be _planning_ to win the entire time. If you aren’t going to help us with that, then go into isolation somewhere else.”

“I meant no offense,” Aegis said, apparently not surprised by his words. “But I do not like giving false hope.”

The Commander laughed ruefully. “There is a difference between false hope and planning to lose. Going by what you said, we should have surrendered the first time you bombed Hamburg, since the idea of soon facing an _Ethereal_ and _winning_ was simply impossible, yes?”

Aegis was silent. “I believe you once said that killing an Ethereal ‘should be impossible’,” the Commander recounted. “What is next? That it is impossible to kill the Battlemaster? That it is hopeless to drive the Collective off Earth? That it is outlandish to even think of taking the fight beyond it?” He shook his head. “No, Aegis. We are not going to give up until either the Collective is in ruins, or we all die.”

“I hope you maintain that optimism,” Aegis said neutrally. “And that it doesn’t lead your species to a fate that could have been prevented. Your ideals mean nothing if everything you care about dies in the process. What worth is there in a pointless sacrifice? Because that is what you are proposing. Alive, you still have a chance, however small.”

“It wouldn’t be pointless,” the Commander said. “Maybe it’s a Human thing, but we don’t like being beholden to an alien race who will enslave us in all but name. At the very least, we screw up whatever grand plans the Imperator has.”

Aegis looked at him for a few seconds. “It is a shame it came to this,” he mused. “Your species would have been excellent allies against the Synthesized.”

“We are allied to you, yes?” The Commander smiled. “Perhaps we still will be someday. That isn’t something we need to worry about for a while. But for now…” He looked back to the holomap of America. “We need to focus on the immediate threat.”

***

_The Praesidium, Psionic Training Arena_

“How well did you know him?” Patricia asked as she and Aegis observed the psions training on targets, dummies, and each other. This topic was something that had been bugging her for some time, and she hadn’t gotten a proper chance to ask Aegis about the Imperator.

“Moderately well,” Aegis said, also watching the psions. “He never made an effort to befriend those around him without good reason. The only ones I would say who know him well are the Battlemaster, Quisilia, the Overmind, and Sicarius. Everyone else…he was the Imperator, and our leader.”

Patricia nodded. The names made sense except for one. “Sicarius? That seems odd.”

“Not so odd when you consider the Imperator practically raised her,” Aegis mused. “I suspect she is considered an adoptive daughter, though he would never say so to anyone else.”

“Really?” Patricia glanced up, surprised. “I didn’t realize that.”

“I have yet to determine how the Imperator actually found her,” Aegis recalled. “He ordered us to randomly stop on a planet that had been ravaged by the Synthesized.” His voice took on an odd tone. “And he went down alone, and returned with a young Ethereal girl, barely thirty, a child by our standards, starving and half-mad. That she survived at all is a miracle, and the Imperator took her with him wherever he went and personally trained her.”

Aegis’s voice became softer. “It is acts like that which make me believe that the Imperator is merely misguided, and not innately malicious. However, I cannot be sure if it was a simple act of decency or he found and raised Sicarius for the sole purpose of having a loyal assassin who could rival Quisilia.”

Well, this was new. “She’s better than Quisilia?” She asked. “Really?”

“I would say she is more dangerous,” Aegis amended. “She is not normal, especially for an Ethereal. Killing is instinct for her, and the Imperator has fed that over the years. Nuance and context are not things she can easily grasp. Quisilia can, and is far more independent. Sicarius does not care what she does, as long as it is what the Imperator orders.”

“Hmm,” Patricia thought on that. The Imperator was an odd figure. Absurdly powerful, so Aegis said, but not someone who ever seemed keen on using it. He was capable of, at least on the surface, performing selfless acts, but his motivations were a mystery. She, like Aegis, was not entirely convinced he was completely evil. But misguided seemed too naïve. The Imperator _knew_ what he was doing.

The question was _why_?

“Why the interest?” Aegis asked, looking down at her. “Did you speak to the Commander?”

“Huh? No,” she frowned. “But considering the Imperator seems to have some interest in me, I’d prefer to know a little about him. More than that he’s a threat that could probably kill us all with his mind.”

“Understandable,” Aegis agreed. “Unfortunately, I am afraid I am of little help. I would not consider him a friend, and even as part of his inner circle for a time, we did not hold similar views. We have both changed since we emerged from stasis. Ever since then he has strayed more and more from our original goal.”

“Which was fighting the Synthesized, right?” Patricia recalled, confused. “Why? Wasn’t that the reason you intentionally froze yourselves? So you could fight them knowing what you were up against?”

“Originally, yes,” Aegis explained. “But something changed over the years. I do not know why, but his priorities shifted. He withdrew from managing the affairs of the Collective, and placed myself and the Battlemaster in charge. The Battlemaster has not wavered in this goal, but he did not see that the Imperator was just putting him in a position where he wouldn’t ask questions.”

“Risky,” Patricia noted. “I wouldn’t want the Battlemaster angry at me.”

“The Battlemaster is not a threat to the Imperator,” Aegis said. “Or so everyone believes.”

Patricia snorted. “You think otherwise?”

“No,” Aegis said flatly. “But if anyone could surprise me in this, it is him. There was a reason the Imperator chose him out of all the Battlemasters in the Collective.”

“Getting back to the point,” Patricia redirected. “So what else would the Imperator focus on if not the Synthesized?”

Aegis paused for a moment. “I do not know. It has to do with the inner galactic species. The first expedition he only intended to gather cursory information. He sent Quisilia, Sicarius, and Nebulan, and whatever they brought back…it seemed to have changed his priorities. Ever since then, he has been focusing on learning whatever he can about them. The Battlemaster believes he is simply gathering information for when they prepare to fight them, but I do not think it is just that.”

“Then what?”

“I do not know,” Aegis admitted. “The Imperator never shared what he learned from those expeditions. I do not even know their names, or even descriptions. But I do also know he became very interested in finding ruins and relics of previous civilizations. He was looking for something, that much I can say for certain.”

“For what, I wonder?” Patricia mused rhetorically, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “A weapon? Information? You said you think the Synthesized have done this before? Maybe he’s looking for more survivors? I doubt he was the first to think of putting himself in stasis.”

“Perhaps,” Aegis was clearly doubtful. “I doubt it is a weapon, but information is plausible. But even that faded as he began investigating planets of different biomes. Water worlds and rocky dead ones became sites of interest. I only know this because of the copied reports I received from the Zararch agents, forwarded by Quisilia. I suppose he wanted to keep me at least partially informed, but whatever the Imperator was looking for, I do not think he found it.”

This seemed stranger the more she heard. “I guess I can ask him about that whenever he decides to talk,” she shrugged. “And I guess during this time, he just ignored the Collective completely.”

“Yes, though not because he didn’t have time.” A sigh escaped Aegis’s helmet. “I do not necessarily think it was intentional either. Time…it is not the same when you are immortal, Patricia. Years can pass you without really noticing. After some time, it becomes meaningless since it is not something to be concerned about any longer. Mortal species like yours, the Andromedons, and the Vitakara move at a speed that is alien to us who are not used to it. For some like myself and the Battlemaster, we are used to it, but the speed at which you research, develop, and build is foreign to one like Revelean or the Creator.”

“That actually explains a lot,” Patricia said. “I guess that it works to our advantage.”

“For now,” Aegis agreed. “But Ethereals are not wired for quick decisions. A week is considered fast by our standards, and even for the Battlemaster, a well-planned attack can take weeks to put together and carry out. This is a large reason why the attacks are fewer than you might expect. So yes, since you Humans work quickly, this gives you an advantage.”

“One which the Battlemaster will regret letting us have,” Patricia said with a grim smile. “He’s not going to know what hit him in the next few days.”

“No,” Aegis agreed thoughtfully. “I do not think he will.”

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room – Two Days Later_

Laura had clearly not expected him to show up in full armor, but the Commander figured it was time to take a more direct role in this fight. He was quite tired of just directing from the safety of the Situation Room. He didn’t want to get out of practice, and the soldiers needed to see their Commander fighting on the front lines.

“I didn’t realize you were going out there,” she commented as he joined her and Weekes, with Patricia and Jackson beside him. “And what is that?”

She nodded towards the WHEEE cannon strapped to his back. “That?” The Commander smiled. “The WHEEE.”

Weekes snorted. “Cute.”

“Wouldn’t mock it,” Patricia warned lightly. “I wouldn’t want to get shot by it.”

“Unimportant.” The Commander raised a gauntleted hand. “Are your forces in position?”

“Yes,” Laura brought up the holomap showing the West Coast. “We’ve got armies ready to converge on Seattle, Salem, Hillsboro, and Las Vegas areas. Purifiers, MDUs, and squads are all ready to go.”

“The Lancers are also going to be assisting,” Weekes said with a smile. “We’ve got enough gene-modded ones that the aliens won’t know what hit them.”

“Good.” The Commander nodded. “Seattle first.”

“There will be two main armies, one from the north and one from the east,” Laura said, focusing on the city. “The aliens have fortified it heavily, but they can’t withstand an army. Especially one supported by both the Lancers and XCOM.”

“We’re going to move beyond Portland as well,” Weekes said, pointing at the highlighted areas around the city itself. “Hillsboro and Salem are the two locations the aliens have entrenched themselves. They aren’t as heavily defended, so unless they get a sudden influx of reinforcements, I don’t think there is much we need to worry about.”

“Las Vegas will be an issue,” Laura warned. “Or what’s left of it. The aliens have turned the remains into a full military base, and assaulting it is going to be…challenging. That is where the heaviest fighting will take place. ADVENT Intelligence suspects that there might be a Sargon there, but I don’t think we’ll know for sure until we attack.”

“I have three teams prepared,” the Commander promised. “And one for whenever the Battlemaster shows up.”

“You think he will?” Weekes asked.

The Commander smiled. “Yes. But we have several plans for him.”

Laura nodded in recollection. “At your command, I will assume?”

“Or the ranking XCOM operative on-site,” the Commander affirmed. “Hopefully we won’t need it, but I want it ready in case.”

“I suppose the question is where _you_ will be?” Weekes asked. “And I assume Central Officer Jackson will act in your stead here?”

“Correct,” Jackson stepped forward. “I will handle communication and updates between XCOM personnel.” She paused. “I’m not experienced in tactics, but I will provide what assistance I can.”

“I’ll be leading the XCOM squad in Seattle,” the Commander said. “Patricia will lead one in Las Vegas, and Matthew Hawkins will assist in Portland. In addition to that, there will be two Firestorm and Archangel squads for Vegas, and one of each for Seattle and Portland.”

They both nodded, having been appraised of the capabilities of each earlier. “If you want numbers, I’m planning for one thousand Lancers for Las Vegas, and five hundred for every other location,” Weekes stated. “All fully gene modded and ready to go.”

“The PRIEST Program doesn’t have anyone yet?” The Commander asked.

“None combat-ready.” Laura shook her head. “A shame. It was likely going to change in a few days. Some of the soldiers are exhibiting appropriate control.”

“Not needed,” the Commander said. “We’ve delayed this long enough. What we have will suffice. Let’s give the people something to be optimistic about.”

“Not just the civilians,” Laura said with a weary smile. “I think everyone could use a victory about now.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Weekes warned. “The battle hasn’t even started yet.”

“True.” The Commander placed the helmet over his head. “But I have a good feeling about this.” He looked at both of them through his helmet. “Give the order. We begin retaking America now.”

“Copy that,” Laura said, pressing a switch opening the intercom. “This is Commander Christiaens. You are cleared to deploy and engage. Good luck, XCOM will be right behind you.”

 That they would be. The Commander turned away, and began marching toward the Hangar, where his skyranger was waiting; Patricia right behind him.

Despite how badly it could go wrong, he was looking forward to what happened next.

What happened next would be a turning point, one way or another.

***

Supplementary Material

** XCOM File 0772 **

Subject: Current List of Psions

Author: Overseer Patricia Trask

Commander,

Due to the recent influx of recruits, and the development of the Trask System of measuring psionic power by the ADVENT PRIEST Program, I thought it prudent to put together a comprehensive list of the current psionic soldiers, including Templars and non-Templars. I will continue to update this as more psions are awakened, but for now, this should suffice for our records. The list is in alphabetical order, and I will mark their power classification, Trask level, and psionic specialization by their names.

If you don’t want to look up the PRIEST Document ADVENT sent over, this is how the different classifications are broken down. The Trask level is from 1 to 100.

An **Awakened** classification is from Trask levels of **1** to **20**.

An **Adept** classification is from Trask levels of **21** to **40**.

A **Psion** classification is from Trask levels of **41** to **60**.

A **Magus** classification is from Trask levels of **61** to **80**.

A **Leviathan** classification is from Trask levels of **80** to **100**.

There is no higher classification, even though Trask levels can exceed 100. However, since I sincerely doubt we will find a psion of a higher power level than 100 outside of aliens, I will be classifying any individual with a Trask level higher than 100 as **Ethereal**.

This will obviously only apply to one specific being.

In addition to that, there are four specializations, or disciplines, if you prefer, of psionic abilities. These will also be stated by the psion in question. I will put them here for the record:

A **Telekine** primarily specializes in telekinetic abilities.

A **Telepath** primarily specializes in telepathic abilities

A **Defensive** specialization focuses on protection and manipulation of psionic solids.

An **Offensive** specialization focuses on destructive abilities of various focuses.

Without delaying it any longer, here is the current list of psions:

  * Ellinor Aagard – Defensive Magus ( **70** ) [ _Notes: Templar_ ]
  * Taqi al-Pour – Defensive Magus ( **66** )
  * Saar Aron – Telekine Adept ( **40** ) [ _Notes: Templar_ ]
  * Iosif Bronis – Defensive Magus ( **78** ) [ _Notes: Templar_ ]
  * Leono Cantu – Defensive Psion ( **56** )
  * Mona Eriksson – Offensive Magus ( **71** )
  * Zama Elethu – Defensive Magus ( **74** ) [ _Notes: Archangel_ ]
  * Eddison Fisher – Telekine Psion ( **49** )
  * Ryo Ha-Sun – Telekine Psion ( **55** ) [ _Notes: Templar_ ]
  * Viktoria Hammarström – Offensive Leviathan ( **81** ) [ _Notes: Archangel_ ]
  * Matthew Hawkins – Telekine Magus ( **77** ) [ _Notes: One of the recovered Furies - “Alecto”]_
  * Ted Holden – Offensive Psion ( **49** ) [ _Notes: Archangel_ ]
  * Moriai Jin – Telepath Adept ( **33** )
  * Chan Jin-Taek – Offensive Psion ( **57** ) [ _Notes: Templar_ ]
  * Pall Johansson – Telekine Psion ( **58** ) [ _Notes: Templar_ ]
  * Charlie Jones – Offensive Psion ( **47** )
  * Ismail Mazar – Telekine Magus ( **68** ) [ _Notes: Recruited from ADVENT PRIEST Program; civilian background_ ]
  * Hugo Nilsen – Defensive Magus ( **62** ) [ _Notes: Templar_ ]
  * Alicia Sancho – Offensive Psion ( **53** )
  * Sussan Sevhonkian – Telepath Magus ( **80** ) [ _Notes: Recruited from ADVENT PRIEST Program; civilian background_ ]
  * Gamil Sultan – Defensive Psion ( **50** )
  * Kawamura Taira – Telekine Leviathan ( **82** ) [ _Notes: Archangel_ ]
  * Fatima Tariq – Telepath Magus ( **80** ) [ _Notes: One of the recovered Furies – “Tisiphone”]_
  * Said Tariq – Defensive Magus ( **79** ) [ _Notes: One of the recovered Furies – “Megarea”]_
  * Lukas Von Theil – Telepath/Defensive Leviathan ( **93** ) [ _Notes: Prefers to be called “Geist”; Recruited from ADVENT PRIEST Program; civilian background; tested equally high for both Defensive and Telepathic disciplines_ ]



And myself, of course:

  * Patricia Trask – Telepath Leviathan ( **84** )



And I didn’t forget about the other members of the Internal Council either:

  * The Commander – Telekine Adept ( **36** )
  * Moira Vahlen – Telepath Magus ( **76** )



And I didn’t forget about our resident Ethereal:

  * Aegis – Defensive Ethereal ( **138** ) [ _Notes: Looking at this, I wonder what the other Ethereals come in at_ ]



This should cover the current psions enlisted. I’ll update this when more come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I doubt I'll be posting another chapter before then, I'll wish everyone reading a Merry Christmas and again say thanks for continuing to read this story that's gotten much, much larger than I had ever planned for. On that note, the good news is that the next chapter is already written (And it will be even somewhat longer than this), so you'll likely get it sooner than later once my editing team finishes it up.
> 
> And thank Johnclaw Dragonhelm (One of my beta readers) for coming up with the explanations for Elerium and Gateways that are more plausible than anything I could come up with.


	24. Counterattack: United States of America

 

_Outside Hillsboro, Portland – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 9:38 A.M._

Things may not have gone well for ADVENT recently, but Roman suspected that was going to change at this moment. For what seemed like the first time for him, the full might of the ADVENT military was gathered and marching from Portland to the alien strongholds in Hillsboro and Salem, two small cities that had been under alien control for months.

“[A good day for killing aliens,]” Anton said as they marched forward, still undetected by the aliens. “[They won’t see us coming.]”

“[Maybe not,]” Galina said as she looked into the fog. “[But they are going to hear us.]”

Roman grinned under his helmet. That they would. ADVENT had pulled out everything for this attack. At this moment the entire legion was marching on the split streets of the now-destroyed city of Beverton, and multiple squads were moving through the forests at the same time. American armored fighting vehicles like the M3A3 Bradley and Stryker were on the roads, guarded by MDUs and the new SHIVs.

That was where Roman and his squad were now deployed, alongside two of the Bradleys, with him in the front, as was his role as Shieldbearer. Behind the first line of tanks were dozens more squads, and multiple Strykers following them. But what Roman knew was really going to get the attention were the front lines, the shining white MDUs that marched silently, with the SHIVs and their operators closely behind.

But in front of even _them_ were the Lancers.

Roman had known about the elite unit of the ADVENT military, even if he hadn’t actually seen it in action that much. But seeing them in person was something completely different. Their domed helmets and pitch-black armor that looked even stronger than his own made for a foreboding image.

They weren’t just at the front either. They were scattered throughout the ADVENT force, either alone or in small groups of two. The isolated ones had been holding sniper rifles, and their armor was slimmer than the others, so he suspected they were the sniper unit. The main Lancers; they were unique. Most carried some kind of firearm or gauss rifle, but others carried melee weapons in their hands; actual swords and hammers.

“[Executors,]” Stanislav had explained when the Lancers had started arriving. “[You saw the ones that XCOM called Templars?]”

He’d nodded. “[Yes. For fighting the Battlemaster, right?]”

“[Apparently,]” Stanislav had shrugged. “[The Lancer Executors are that same concept, but for ADVENT.]” He’d raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “[Supposedly they’re dangerous.]”

“[I hope this fog dissipates soon,]” Elena muttered, checking her rifle again, bringing him back into the present. “[While we make a dramatic entrance, I’d prefer to actually _see_ the aliens we kill.]”

“[Give it a half-hour,]” Roman suggested. “[It should be gone by then.]”

A half-dozen dogs started barking, and the Lancers froze, the leader immediately raising a fist and the entire army came to a halt. Once they stopped, the dogs immediately went quiet. That had been another recent addition to the ADVENT military. Roman liked dogs, he assumed most people did, but the Molosser Hounds as they were called, they unnerved him.

The explanation he’d been able to find is that they were currently genetically engineered and MELD-enhanced German Shepherds and Huskies, which seemed like a poor description for how enhanced these dogs really were. The damn things were up to his waist, their eyes were rimmed golden, and he could actually _see_ the muscles under their fur.

Galina had stayed _far_ away from them when the Molosser Handlers had brought them out. She was terrified of dogs, and ones that could probably kill her with a single pounce and bite was _not_ something she’d wanted to be around. Had the dogs not made him slightly terrified himself, he would have found it funny.

However, he doubted ADVENT would use them if there was a risk of them biting Humans. Even the Handlers didn’t use leashes, and instead stayed close to their Hounds, which were covered in padding on their bodies and top of their head, while the belly and lower jaw seemed unprotected. Probably for mobility, and the padding also had some pockets he saw the Handlers reach into occasionally and pull out some kind of treat for the Hounds.

“[Guess that means we’re close,]” Konstantin said, lifting his autorifle, the grin present in his voice. “[Those dogs are smart.]”

Roman could only see the outline of the main city in the distance, since they were in the suburbs area so far. The distinctions were clear. The street was cut off by an alien barricade, and there were turrets and AA weapons mounted on and behind it, as well as the nearby buildings. The buildings themselves seemed connected by the barricade the aliens had built, and he could see faint outlines moving behind it, and on the roofs. “[Maksim, what do you see?]”

“[One second,]” Maksim raised his sniper rifle and looked through the scope. “[Hmm. Not much. They are _not_ prepared at all. Some Vitakarian guards, a couple Borelians. No Mutons yet.]”

 _“This is Chief Marshal Peterson,”_ a voice suddenly interjected into their helmets. All of them listened raptly as the Chief Marshal of the Third American Legion spoke, something he would not do unless it involved the entire army. _“We have moved to acceptable locations outside Salem and Hillsboro, and both groups are in positions to attack the enemy unawares. At my command, open fire and wipe these aliens off the face of this Earth. Remember Vegas, San Francisco, Australia, Japan, and take no prisoners today. Retribution has come, and the aliens will pay for it with their lives.”_

“[Hell yes,]” Anton said, readying his weapon.

The Chief Marshal finished up. _“Wing Captain Holder, you are cleared to begin your aerial assault. Morning Sky, you are cleared to deploy XCOM soldiers at your designated location. All ground forces, you are cleared to engage at will.”_

The Bradley tanks aimed their weapons, which in contrast to heavier tanks, weren’t traditional tank cannons, but autocannons which he assumed were gauss-powered. All of them fired at once, breaking the silence with the sound of high-powered automatic cannons. Several alien guns exploded, and more alien bodies were thrown into the air or ripped apart outright. “Advance!” The leading Lancer shouted, and the black-armored soldiers rushed towards the fortified city.

“[Stay close to me, like we practiced!]” Roman shouted to his team as they gathered around him in formation. He pressed several buttons on his wrist, and the silver antenna on his back rose. His HUD blinked green. “[Emitter online! Move forward!]”

They shouted affirmatives and they, along with multiple other squads, charged into the fog that was beginning to be lit up with the green plasma of the alien defenders, and red lasers and brief orange streaks of gauss rifles being fired from the MDUs, tanks, and soldiers, all of whom slowly advanced. The tanks were continuing to fire at identified AA emplacements, and now the aliens were beginning to wake up.

“[Squad of four up ahead!]” Elena called, firing her weapon. “[Going into cover!]”

“[Emitter still good,]” Roman assured her. “[Keep moving!]”

“[I really hope the ADVENT engineers were right,]” Stanislav growled as the aliens prepared to fire. “[If I die, I’m going to haunt them.]”

Anton fired and killed one of the aliens, but the rest of the aliens started firing their plasma weapons directly at them.

Moment of truth.

The plasma streaked towards them, and then it suddenly bounced upwards or to the side as if hitting an invisible wall. The bolt dissipated a few seconds later, and the aliens froze once they saw what had happened. Maksim whooped and used that to snipe one of the Vitakarians in the head, while Konstantin and Galina focused on pinning down the last two with their autorifles.

“[Grenade out!]” Elena called, and chucked one towards the final two aliens. They yelled something in their language and ran back, warning several more aliens coming to reinforce of the danger, right before it exploded in a bright flash that was not shrapnel like he was used to, but instead closer to a massive firework.

The aliens screamed as the sizzling fire hit their silver armor, which seemed to offer little protection as it burned through the armor and aliens themselves, before Anton and Maksim killed them with a hail of gauss rounds. “[They were right,]” Elena said, sounding rather impressed. “[Thermite does work well.]”

They reached the actual line of alien territory, and fell into cover, with Roman tapping some more buttons on his wrist. “[Arrived at checkpoint. Shutting down emitter. Forty-seven percent remaining.]”

“[Good for another push!]” Konstantin shouted as the aliens began pouring out into the streets, and directly into the line of Lancers which were ahead of the leading ADVENT squads. Roman watched in amazement as one of the Executors directly _charged_ a group of Vitakarians, and the other four Lancers just laughed off Plasma fire as they took shots, but it didn’t seem to slow them down at all.

The Lancer Executor was happily bashing the Vitakarians in the knees, head, and chests; caving in the armor and shattering their bones. The other Lancers systematically took apart a Borelian team, flanking and using explosives liberally. Aircraft streaked overhead and missiles were fired in the distance, even as the AA defenses the aliens had set up began working, shooting plasma and lasers into the sky.

“[We need to take those out!]” Roman called as a laser shot one of the Ravens out of the sky.

“[Got one marked on that roof,]” Maksim said, sniping from a makeshift elevation built on several crates. Roman looked over to where the massive laser battery was built onto the flat roof of one of the many abandoned stores in this city.

He nodded. “[Maksim, Galina, Konstantin, provide covering fire. Everyone else, with me!]”

“[Providing suppressive fire!]” Galina called out in affirmation as the rooftop manned by several Borelian soldiers was suddenly under heavy gauss fire. The MDUs were now in the city with them, and were advancing, drawing more fire away from them.

“[Forward!]” Roman yelled, and they ran down the narrow streets, which were still heavy with plasma fire now that the aliens were forming another barricade up ahead, with enough firepower to force the Lancers to hold temporarily. Roman kicked in the door to the shop which broke and swung open, throwing the alien behind it to the ground.

Stanislav chuckled as he blew apart the Vitakarian at point-blank range. “[One to the left!]” Elena warned, swinging her weapon and firing at another alien, this one a Dath’Haram which was much less armored, and subsequently died as the gauss rounds tore it apart.

“[One more,]” Anton called, as there was one final alien, backing into a corner, its hands up. “[Think it’s surrendering]”

Sure enough, the alien was yelling at them in their language, and clearly trying to be as non-threatening as possible. Roman pursed his lips and slowly walked over to the alien, pulled out his pistol and jabbed the barrel under the chin of the alien and pulled the trigger, splattering its brain over the wall.

“[No prisoners,]” he stated to the corpse, before motioning them to move up. “[Let’s take out that battery.]”

***

_Salem Airspace, Oregon – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 10:04 A.M._

It was one thing leaping out of a Skyranger in Archangel armor, but it was something else to do the exact same thing during the beginning of a heated firefight.

Didn’t make it feel any less amazing.

“This is Seraphim Morrow to Morning Sky,” Sierra said as she sped through the air, flying upward so she could get a good view of the situation. “We are in the air and preparing to make our first strike.”

 _“Copy, Seraphim Morrow,”_ Morning Sky replied. _“Good luck up there.”_

Sierra grinned as she noted that the aliens were already falling to the attack of ADVENT, led by the Lancers and MDUs, with tank support while hundreds of ADVENT squads moved forward. “ _We ready for this?”_ Anna asked, speaking through their internal comms, and coming up to hover beside her. “ _Should we recon first_?”

“Yep,” Sierra confirmed. “They have AA defenses, so we’ll need to get rid of those first. We’ll have to fly low to avoid getting shot too often.”

“ _I can take care of the turrets if you cover me,_ ” Ted told them, hovering a bit lower, his arms already emanating psionic energy. “ _Unless you want to rely on bombs?_ ”

“Nah,” Sierra said, angling her body down and providing a thrust to her jets as she shot towards the city. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go!”

They swooped down, now getting a better view of the street-to-street fighting that was currently taking place between ADVENT and the entrenched alien forces. “Let’s introduce ourselves,” Sierra called, as she spotted an opening where a collection of Mutons were entrenched against an ADVENT force. “Right behind them!”

They approached the ground at a speed that would be lethal if they weren’t enhanced, and at just the right moment, Sierra turned her body upward, killed the jets, and fell to the ground, already reaching for the grenade on her waist and tossing it. It was a special weapon, one of the more dangerous explosive chemicals.

It landed right in the middle of the group and exploded in an anticlimactic burst, but then again, the explosion wasn’t the danger. The white smoke that expanded from it however, was. The effects were immediate. The unmasked Mutons immediately began clutching their faces and making grunts of pain, while their parts of their armor spontaneously combusted in small patches of flame.

White Phosphorus had been described to her as a half-acid, half combustible agent, which was absolutely lethal for anyone caught in a blast. It, like many chemical weapons, was not exactly approved of, but ADVENT and XCOM were a lot more lenient about what types of weapons were considered acceptable. And personally, Sierra thought that if it caused the aliens as much pain as it seemed to be, it was perfectly fine.

She fired her own laser rifle at the Mutons outside the smoke, and Anna killed three in quick succession with her autolaser. Ted tossed a White Phosphorous grenade of his own to another group of Mutons, and jumped into the sky, with Sierra and Anna soon following, all aliens in the area either dead or dying.

“Let’s hit their nerve center,” Sierra suggested, making sure to keep them all moving since staying still would let the aliens get a better shot, and the air was already lighting up with plasma as the aliens realized there were new threats. “Where do you think they’ll be most clustered?”

“ _City center, probably,_ ” Anna suggested as she swooped down and tossed a plasma grenade onto a sniper nest, blowing it up in a bright green explosion. “ _Hitting the back would help._ ”

“Then we go there,” Sierra ordered, and they shot across the air, going extremely fast, albeit near to the rooftops. “Lot of aliens ahead.”

“ _Split and circle around,_ ” Ted stated suddenly. “ _Let me have a shot._ ” His body suddenly swung vertically and he hit the metaphorical breaks on his jets, and swung up his arms that were wreathed in psionic energy, which grew more and more intense until unstable beams of psionic energy shot out to the street below.

Sierra had already swooped off to the left while Anna had gone to the right, so she unfortunately missed the initial attack, but swinging around back to Ted’s position, the results were apparent. There were at least two dozen corpses on the ground, with the street turned a scorched black, the corpses themselves charred and eaten away by the corrosive energy of psionics.

Ted was already moving forward, wasting no time, and Sierra and Anna shot after him. “ _Nicely done,_ ” Anna complimented. “ _Hold on, going to blow up this turret._ ” She picked one of the plasma batteries that was firing up in the sky, swooped down and landed beside it and began killing the aliens around it.

Sierra thought she might as well try it. “Going to get the one on the left,” she said, eyeing her target, which had a fairly small safe landing area. There were three guards on it, all fortunately Vitakarians or Dath’Haram, it was hard to tell with the armor. She gritted her teeth, this was going to be tight.

She killed the jets at what was probably the closest she could risk, and landed right beside a surprised alien, and unceremoniously, knocked him out with the butt of her rifle, sending him over the edge of the two-story building, and immediately shot the other two before they could react. She found what seemed to be the control panel, ripped it open, and fired a sustained laser into it.

There were a couple of loud pops, and the turret went still. Good enough. She switched cells on her rifle, and shot into the sky once more. An explosion further in caught her attention, and she saw Ted had blown up one with a devastating psionic lance. “Up ahead, that square,” Sierra said as she angled herself to circle it.

This was clearly where the alien control was. It was a fortress within a fortress, all the buildings were interconnected with a black alloy wall, and each rooftop was equipped with AA defenses and equipment for sniper nests. “ _That’s a nice fortress,_ ” Anna commented. “ _It would be a shame if something were to happen to it._ ”

“It was nice of them to trap themselves there,” Sierra commented as the aliens continued to try and fruitlessly shoot them. They were just too slow to get an accurate shot on the Archangels. “We drive them out. You have the rocket?”

“ _Two,_ ” Anna corrected, already readying the weapon attachment on her wrist. “ _Priming!_ ”

“Alright, commence the White Phosphorous bombing run,” Sierra ordered. “Ted, you have the grenades?”

“ _Affirmative,_ ” he said as they all swooped up. “ _In hand._ ”

“Loose them when you get a chance,” Sierra commanded. “Turn that fortress into a prison.”

Sierra herself tossed several of her White Phosphorous grenades into the fortress area when she got an opportunity, spacing them as she flew around the perimeter, covering as much ground as possible. Anna was aiming her own WP rocket at the most open area, though Sierra wasn’t sure that would be needed. It was going to spread no matter where she shot it.

Ted was also back in his psionic turret mode, blowing up another AA plasma turret, and whatever aliens around it he could see. His armor was slightly marred from taking some hits, but Archangel armor was designed to be able to take some plasma fire. The WP rocket Anna fired exploded in a mist of white smoke that immediately began spreading, already forcing the aliens to run away.

Sierra saw several Vitakarians on the edge of a building, trying to shoot at them, and she got an idea. “Pick your targets,” she told Anna and Ted. “I think we’ve done enough to destabilize their operations.”

“ _Copy that,_ ” Anna said, and rocketed off to the front lines of the conflict with ADVENT.

“ _Confirmed,_ ” Ted also acknowledged, as he seemed content to stay put and kill anything that entered his line of sight.

For herself, she angled her jets towards the Vitakarians on the roof and fired with her laser rifle, killing one immediately, then quickly attached it to her chest so her hands were free. When she got close enough, she killed the jets again and slammed into the alien, knocking her to the ground, if not knocking her completely out.

Sierra hooked her fingers under some bands of her armor, and leapt up, engaging the jets and soaring into the sky. The genetic modifications essentially made the weight of the alien she was now carrying irrelevant. Not that she was planning to hold onto her for very long.

She waited until she was at a reasonable height and then let the Vitakarian fall, who was only now conscious enough to realize what was happening. “So long!” Sierra called down as the Vitakarian fell to her death. Well, that was fun, if a little pointless. Still, considering how well everything was going so far, she could justify doing that.

Sierra looked around the battlefield, knowing there was a lot more to do. She grasped her laser rifle in her hands, and went hunting. She was curious to see if the aliens would be able to adapt in time before they fell to ADVENT.

She snorted. And the real XCOM squad wasn’t even here. She would hate to be facing them right now.

***

_Seattle, Washington – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 10:02 A.M._

The attack on Seattle was well underway as the Commander stepped off the Skyranger, followed by the squad of XCOM soldiers, and the Archangels close behind. The MEC Pilot Gloria had been dropped in her Ballista-class MEC, and all of them were waiting for the Commander’s orders to move in.

They were slightly elevated, and the Commander had a relatively decent view of the city in the distance, the heart of Seattle. The smaller towns outside it were not nearly as protected. Creed snorted as he saw it in the distance. “Andromedons. Too clever for their own good.”

“They are smart,” the Commander agreed with a nod as a squad of ADVENT soldiers jogged past. “That makes them dangerous.”

In the distance, the heart of Seattle was protected by a red-domed shield, which seemed so far to be impervious to any outside attack. Several missiles had been fired into it with seemingly no effect. A problem, but the Commander knew it could be dealt with eventually. “Let’s find out who’s in charge.” He motioned to the Seraphim of the Archangel squad. “Hwan, take your team and begin assisting ADVENT where you can. You will be contacted if we need you.”

The Templar drew his longsword and saluted with his free hand. “Yes, Commander. We will be awaiting any orders you have.” He motioned to the other two Archangels, Catherine Gosslin and Liliyane, another new Templar with a rather peculiar weapon of her own; a poleax of all things. But it fit an Archangel fairly well, and he knew she’d been practicing with it. “Up we go! Good luck, Commander!” All the Archangels leapt into the air, jets activating, and flew into the sky.

“Commander!” An ADVENT Officer came running up, accompanied by two Lancer Predators, the main fighting force of the Lancer Corps. “Chief Marshal Wilkins wishes to update you on the current situation!”

“Lead the way,” the Commander stated, already moving. All of them broke into a jog as they went to where the Chief Marshal was waiting, which was a commandeered store-turned-command center, heavily guarded by Lancers.

Chief Marshal Blake Wilkins was standing over a makeshift holotable, in full armor and helmet, with one of the Lancer Executors beside him, and some other Officers. “Commander,” he greeted as he looked up. “Glad to have you here.”

“What’s the situation?” The Commander asked. “My Archangel squad is already assisting in the air, as are our own Firestorms and Ravens.”

“Appreciated,” Wilkins nodded, motioning to the Lancer beside him. “This is Executor Jackson, Lancer Corps. We’re only launching smaller incursions now until we have a better idea of what we’re facing. With Andromedons, you can’t be too careful.”

Good. This person wasn’t an idiot. “How much do we have?”

“We are in Lynnwood now,” Wilkins pointed to the holomap. “Our army is coming from the north and the east, as well as some support from the US Destroyers we were able to get from the Puget Sound, that large lake.”

“I know what it is,” the Commander told him. “And you’re having issues?”

“Not necessarily,” Wilkins amended, tapping a finger on the holotable. “We wanted to get an assessment of what they have, and we do now. They’re entrenched both within the heart of Seattle itself, and outside. The force is mostly composed of Andromedons and Mutons. We’re also coming under sniper fire, so throw some Vitakara in the mix.”

“We have marked the main locations they are entrenched in,” Executor Jackson stated, pressing a button and various areas on the map lit up red. “Along with known and suspected enemy composition. We’ve held back our heavy hitters until this is determined. Now that you’re here, the actual assault can begin.”

“What are the casualty numbers so far?” Creed asked.

“In the low hundreds,” Wilkins stated. “We didn’t send them on a deliberate suicide mission if that’s what you were wondering. We didn’t want them to advance, only engage and hold the line. That is what they’ve done, and taken a fair number of aliens with them.”

“How is the air situation?” Rebecca Carr, one of his soldiers asked.

“Manageable,” Wilkins said. “So far they haven’t mobilized much, mostly Scouts. Their AA weaponry is making it difficult to provide air support on the ground.”

“We can help with that,” the Commander said. “And what do you plan to do next?”

“We send in our second wave,” Wilkins said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Our tanks, support vehicles, Lancers, Purifiers, and a few other tricks we have. And your people, of course. There is no point delaying it further.” He began walking to the exit, and all of them followed and they saw the massive line of tanks rolling into the cities, accompanied by MDUs and dozens of ADVENT soldiers.

“What _is_ that?” Ellinor Aagard asked, noticing one of the leading vehicles.

The Commander was not surprised at the question, and he hadn’t actually seen one of those used in combat before. It was a grey standard M1150 tank, but with an attachment on the front. There were two arms that extended a good ways from the body of the tank, with a roller on the ends. Attached to the roller were lines of chains.

“That’s a Mine Flail,” Creed said in amazement. “I didn’t even know they still existed.”

“Still exist, and I doubt even Andromedons can fully hold up to them,” Wilkins said coldly. “We run into a deadlock, we send this in and fuck them up. I don’t have an unlimited number, so I’m using them wisely. Tell us where you’re headed, and I will order the assault.”

“Uh,” Rebecca Carr, standing beside Creed interjected. “So how does that work?”

Creed glanced over at her. “Originally? It swings the chains around rapidly. As the name implies, it detonates mines to make it safer to move over. But since we haven’t seen the aliens use mines…” he trailed off contemplatively.

“Oh.”

The Commander was somewhat amused at that, but returned his focus to Wilkins. “Where is the fighting heaviest?”

“Pacific Highway intersection,” Executor Jackson answered. “That’s where the strongest Andromedon line is.”

“Then we go there,” the Commander ordered, motioning to his squad. “Let’s go!”

“We’ve got transports to take you there,” Wilkins pointed to a couple of Humvees. “Though your MEC will have to run.”

“Not an issue,” the Commander said as they entered the armored transports. “We’ll give you support where needed.”

“Understood,” Wilkins confirmed. “Good luck, Commander. Glad to have you here.”

“Seconded,” Jackson added. “My Lancers will be assisting you when we can.”

The Commander only nodded, then entered the Humvee and closed the door, and they sped off into the battle ahead.

***

_Moapa, Nevada - United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 8:32 A.M_

The ADVENT Army fully assembled was an inspiring sight. The flat landscape of Nevada made it perfect for ADVENT to reliably deploy their heavier weapons and vehicles, and the lines of Abrams tanks, Strykers, M6 Linebackers and a few more additions she hadn’t seen before, put the size of the ADVENT Army to scale.

This wasn’t counting the thousands of soldiers, MDUs, Purifiers, and aircraft that she knew were going to be deployed. Their own arrival had not gone unnoticed, and while they were not in range of Vegas, that was intentional. They were waiting for her, upon request. The temporary command headquarters were under a plastic shelter, and would likely be taken down soon.

“Fatima, Viktoria, Jim, follow me inside,” Patricia ordered as they walked up to the command headquarters. “The rest of you stay outside and await orders.”

“Yes, Overseer,” they answered in unison, even as she could tell they were wanting to start the fight. There was a tangible feeling of anger and vengeance permeating the men and women here. That was only growing stronger and more emboldened as more and more arrived. She hoped it wouldn’t spill over into overconfidence.

She had specific plans for Fatima, and the two Seraphim Archangels, and they needed to know what to do to be most effective. The figures at the holotable were already waiting, and she sensed them becoming more confident as she walked in. Flattering how she’d developed a reputation, but one that was definitely earned.

Funny how they had no idea they were also accompanied by Viktoria, another Leviathan. After this, Patricia suspected she’d develop a reputation of her own. “Psion Trask, welcome,” a man in full armor greeted, clearly older than was typical, with greying hair and an eyepatch. Definitely a veteran. “Glad we have you to assist us. All indications are we’re going to need it.”

“With any luck, I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry,” Patricia assured him, smiling under her helmet. “We’re all ready to assist.”

“Good,” the man gave a curt nod. “Since we haven’t met, I’m Mathis Stettler, General of the ADVENT Army.” He gestured to the woman beside him, also in full armor. “This is Chief Marshal Sally Collins, American Legion Seven, and beside her is Predator Lorian Rudin, Lancer Corps.”

“A pleasure,” the armored Lancer nodded. “Your reputation precedes you, Psion Trask. I look forward to working with your squad.”

“As do we,” Fatima said. “We’ve worked well in the past.”

“Deus Vult,” Lorian recalled. “Yes, that was certainly a success.”

“And now we will continue those successes,” General Stettler redirected, raising a hand. “The short version, Psion Trask, is that Las Vegas is effectively an alien stronghold now. The city itself you are familiar with does not exist. The aliens destroyed any buildings they didn’t need, and heavily fortified the rest.”

“What did they remove?” Jim asked.

Chief Marshal Collins snorted. “You’d be better off asking what they _kept_.” She motioned to the holotable. “They cleared out a large section in the middle of the city, presumably for aircraft. The smaller buildings they seem to have turned them into a kind of barracks, and destroyed neighboring ones, maybe to free up space. They’ve kept many of the larger hotels and casinos, and turned them into sniper nests.”

“Nellis Air Force Base has been turned into a storage area of sorts as well,” Stettler added. “They seem to be keeping the majority of their heavy vehicles and weapons there. Cyberdisks, Sectopods, Mechtoids. Likely drones as well. I’d expect they’re storing Sectoid Fighters and Scouts there as well.”

“Using the hotels for sniper nests is smart,” Jim nodded approvingly. “The landscape is perfect for that.”

“Which is a problem,” Stettler grumbled. “Until we actually reach the city, we will be completely exposed. And we’re not getting in without a devastating fight.” He pointed to the perimeter. “They built a wall around the entire perimeter; a high one too, dotted with anti-personnel and anti-aircraft turrets, and manned by Mutons and Andromedons.”

“A problem,” Patricia repeated, thinking. “How many do you think are in the city?”

“An estimate?” Stettler looked over to Collins. “Ten thousand? Maybe more? They have Gateways, so until we shut those down, this battle won’t end anytime soon.”

“Enemy composition?” Patricia asked.

“The full extent isn’t known,” Lorian stated. “But this is a military base. I’d expect pretty much anything.”

“Organic units mostly, then,” Patricia said. “Good. I won’t be able to help with the mechanical ones, but unless they’ve made modifications, the Mutons and any other organic enemy shouldn’t pose a threat.”

“The problem is they’ll figure out fast we have a telepath,” Collins noted. “I don’t know how fast you work, but if a large part of their military is augmented, you could be neutered. No offense intended, psion, but we need to prepare for that possibility.”

Patricia was more impressed than offended she’d been so blunt. “None taken, Chief Marshal. Which is why I want to go out ahead. Let me work before the main army gets here.”

Stettler frowned. “With the amount of sniper nests and flat terrain? You might get shot before you have a chance to do anything.”

  She clasped her hands behind her back. “Unlikely. I know what to look for, and I don’t need to be close to begin working. They will be looking for an army, not one person. Trust me, General, I know what I’m doing here. I work first, and we don’t have to worry about their leader neutering what I can do. But that means you don’t attack until I give the signal.”

Collins cocked her head. “And what will that be? You telepathically contact us?”

Patricia shook her head. “Not you, her.” She motioned to Fatima. “It is difficult to focus on a specific person at long distances, but I can pick out psions easily enough, telepaths especially. She will inform you when to attack.”

“And how long do you estimate it to take?” Lorian asked.

“I don’t know,” Patricia answered. “It could be as little as a half hour, or more than three. Time is difficult to track when I use it over a large area, and try and do it right.”

“Fine,” Stettler conceded. “You’re too important an asset to waste, so if you say this would help, I’ll allow it. We can delay the attack until you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Patricia told him sincerely. “You will not regret it.”

“Maybe,” Lorian chuckled. “You might make it too easy for us.”

“I think we could use an ‘easy’ win,” Collins sniffed. “At least I have no problems with it.”

“I’ll have a Humvee take you out,” Stettler said. “You can get off whenever you want.”

Patricia followed him as he exited the shelter and directed her to where the armored Humvees, Bradleys, and Strykers were parked, many of which were already loaded with soldiers. The General spoke with one of the drivers, then motioned her over as the young driver quickly got into the vehicle. “He’ll get you there,” Stettler said. “Just tell him when you’re close enough.”

Patricia stepped into the passenger side of the vehicle and they were immediately driving off, down the road, leaving the rest of the ADVENT Army behind. She couldn’t see the face behind the helmet he wore, but her driver was definitely nervous; clearly he hadn’t expected to be driving her around, and she supposed to someone unfamiliar with her, she would be intimidating.

Her telepathy was likely also a source of it. She could only imagine the stories of what she could and had done. The funny thing was that a good part of it was probably true.

“Relax,” she told him. “I’m really not someone you need to worry about accidentally making angry. Trust me, if I had issues with random people I suddenly met, I wouldn’t get anywhere.” She reached up and took off her helmet, knowing that an actual face might put him at ease. “And don’t lie, either. I can tell when people do that.”

“Sorry…Psion Trask,” he stuttered, not sure what her title was. “I’ve never met a psion before, especially not one like…well, you.”

“Patricia,” she offered. “And that’s understandable. Though we’re still Humans, just ones with some extra abilities.”

“I suppose,” he said cautiously. “If you don’t mind me asking…how does it work?” He gestured at nothing as they drove through the desert. “Are you reading my mind now?”

“Yes and no,” Patricia answered, thinking how best to phrase it without it sounding worse than it was. “I’ve…trained…enough, where I just hear thoughts just by being around people. Sometimes random images flash into my mind. You know how in a crowd you can hear dozens of conversations going on at once? It’s like that, but louder.” She smiled. “The point is that even if I am technically reading your mind now, that doesn’t mean I’m listening. I don’t do that just because I can, privacy is something I can respect.”

“Uh huh,” he looked around nervously. “Although I think I’m the only one in that crowd right now, unless you can still hear people from the base?”

“I’m also good at blocking out what I don’t want to hear,” she offered. “You have to learn that eventually…otherwise the voices will overwhelm you.”

“Ah.” A few moments of silence. “Is it easy?”

“Now?” She thought. “Fairly. I suppose it depends on the scale.” She looked into the desert where the sun was rising over the barren landscape. “An army is difficult to properly control. You have to continually impress your orders upon them, but fortunately the minds of aliens and men are weak. An individual is easy to manipulate, an army is difficult to direct without proper focus.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Hard to explain without you being one, but I believe psions can only become stronger, not the other way around.”

“Does XCOM have psions in their intelligence branch?” He asked, glancing over. “That sounds invaluable.”

She blinked, realizing that the answer to that was actually _no_. Huh, that was something that Zhang had brought up some time ago, but at some point they’d focused on having _all_ available psions on the front lines, and intelligence was not something that had even been addressed.

That needed to be corrected. It was a major oversight. “Sorry, classified,” she told him. “So, my turn for questions. You’re American right?”

“Malu Aolani,” he answered. “US Army Motor Transport Operator, formerly of Hawaii. Wasn’t deployed there when the aliens hit, which is likely why I’m still alive.”

She just nodded. “We’ll take it back.”

“Hopefully,” he didn’t sound convinced. “But I don’t think there’s anything there anymore. I doubt the aliens left anyone alive, or any building standing.”

“The aliens are effective, but they are generally not genocidal,” Patricia shook her head. “Not unless they need to be, and this current alien leader, the Battlemaster…He doesn’t target civilians intentionally. I doubt everyone left was killed.”

“The alternatives aren’t better though,” he said emotionlessly. “You probably know that better than most.”

Unfortunately, she certainly did.

“We’re getting close,” Malu said, looking down at the GPS. “I don’t want you to be exposed to snipers, and…your armor is somewhat noticeable.”

“I’m aware,” Patricia said dryly. “Which is why you’ll drop me off here.” Malu immediately slowed the Humvee to a stop in the middle of the road. “Stay safe and get back there alive,” Patricia told him, putting on her helmet again. “The next time you come here, you’ll hopefully be attacking.”

“Good luck, Patricia,” he said, giving her the ADVENT salute. “Make them suffer.”

She smiled under her helmet. “They will die, Malu, I can promise you that.” She returned the salute and shut the door, and he turned around and drove back up the road, while she turned to where Las Vegas was in the distance. Now she needed to be somewhat conscious. There would be snipers, so she needed to find a place that wasn’t obvious.

She walked leisurely up the road, beginning to expand her mental reach, not too difficult since there was no life around her. It would make aliens trivially easy to spot. A few minutes of walking found her behind one of the rare, and rather pitiful, trees, looking into the now-fortified city of Las Vegas. Stettler hadn’t exaggerated. It appeared to be an impregnable fortress, one with a black wall around it, and focusing her sight, she could see faint figures manning the walls, with turrets lining the walkways and entrances.

The larger hotels had indeed been turned into sniper nests, some with the windows busted out throughout the building and small platforms extending from them. The bad news was that they would be almost impossible to stop without getting close. The good news was that she was definitely close enough to begin working.

She assumed a kneeling positon, placing her hands on her thighs, bowing her head and closing her eyes, beginning to breathe in and out at a steady pace, and let her mind extend to the city before her. Alien minds were distinct, and with nothing else close, it was remarkably easy to pick them out and begin entering their minds.

Much as she would like to take Malu’s advice about making them suffer, she wasn’t going to do that initially. That would simply let them know something was wrong. Maybe once ADVENT arrived, but right now…the opposite approach was what she wanted. There were thousands of minds to corrupt, and she was going to do so to each one.

So she slowly began spreading her control, planting herself with hooks in their mind; backdoors no one but psions would even think about. She was a silent observer to their most personal memories and thoughts, all rushing and vanishing from her mind in an instant, and so once she set the hooks for her entrance, it was time to begin rewriting how they saw the world.

Aegis and Geist had been right in pointing out her flaws, and today she would correct that. Every being, no matter if they were alien or Human, had a small voice in their head, a monologe that dictated what they were thinking about and how they were feeling. This voice was typically the person’s own, or occasionally a close companion or friend. Most of the time it varied.

But no one ever paid attention to it beyond that. No one questioned what their mind told them.

And they would also not notice that the voice in their head that they had heard since consciousness, was not theirs, but her own. The thoughts were still their own, but the voice that dictated them was her own manifestation. She idly wondered if a change like this was permanent or not, as it didn’t technically affect their mind.

It did set the stage for her first commands.

She spent minutes or hours, she wasn’t sure which, reprogramming the voices in the minds of the aliens, to be the one that represented her. It was interesting how much of the same concerns and thoughts aliens had that Humans did. Thinking about their mates, stressing over deadlines and commanders, wanting their shift to end because they were hungry. Even Mutons displayed some kind of preference for certain people, even if they knew never to express it.

Ironic that was only making it easier for her to exploit them.

Now it was time to act.

_Everything is fine._

_Everything is normal._

_There was no Army, there are no soldiers, everything is normal._

She began repeating this mantra every few seconds, over the course of uncountable minutes, bombarding their minds with this subconscious realization that nothing was happening. It was an ordinary day. Nothing worth raising an alarm. Patricia repeated this over and over, and decided to test it.

 _Jump,_ she directed toward the mind of a Zararch sniper, perched up in one of the sniper nests. He did, of course, and not once did his friends react as he calmly walked off the edge.

_Everything is normal. Everything is fine._

The sniper felt nothing as he plummeted to his death.

_Everything is normal._

_This is fine._

She looked through the eyes of the aliens on the ground as they saw the sniper slam into the ground before them, becoming a yellow splatter on the ground, mixed with armor.

_This is normal. No reason to stop working._

_Everything is fine. We have work to do._

Excellent. She sent the prompt to Fatima. _Begin the attack._

And she continued the mantra, drilling and impressing the command until they repeated it in their minds. No living alien was unaffected, and no alien was aware. They simply continued on, as if it was an ordinary day. And when the first bombs hit, the first shells landed, and when the encroaching army appeared on the horizon they did not panic, they did not worry; at most they simply wondered if this was even something they should bother thinking about.

_Everything is normal._

_Everything is fine._

***

_Seattle, Washington – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 10:52 A.M._

Nuan felt somewhat inadequate compared to some of the other soldiers fighting beside her. The first engagement against the aliens had gone…extraordinarily well. The alien force was primarily composed of Andromedons and Vitakara, who had set up in entrenched positions in a shelled intersection, black alloy barricades set up providing cover, not including the buildings the aliens were also using.

The two Templars, Pall and Ellinor had immediately rushed into combat. Ellinor was protecting herself with a psionic shield and Pall thrust a hand forward, sending a telekinetic wave which knocked the Runianarch soldiers he was charging off-balance. He immediately laid into them with his battle axe, nearly taking the head off one and caving in the chest of another.

Ellinor was performing similarly, Dane Axe in hand as she buried it in the unprotected seams of armor. The rest of them were taking up cover behind the first alien barricades, rallying the ADVENT soldiers behind them to advance. Creed, Rebecca, and herself were suppressing the back left line of Andromedons, while Cole, Ricardo and Eddison were focusing on the other half.

The Commander was on the roof, surprisingly enough not holding any weapon, but she’d seen him pulling out some kind of small spheres. She would have guessed they were marbles, but she knew that couldn’t be right. The genetic enhancements were definitely coming in handy, she was amazed how much of a difference they made in actual combat.

She could actually _zoom_ in on an enemy, and fire accurately while doing it. It had taken some getting used to, but it was an amazing feeling. The result was that the Andromedons were pinned by unnaturally accurate fire, while the two Templars cut through the Vitakara force with laughable ease. Ellinor had a small shield before her as she advanced on a pair of Borelians, while Pall was incorporating his telekinetics into his attacks; disrupting balance, breaking limbs, pulling weapons out of hands.

Eddison was also acting in a highly supportive manner. “Acquiring targets!” Purple energy flowing off him, he extended a hand to a group of Andromedons in cover, and twisted his wrist, while pulling back his arm. The Andromedon soldiers were suddenly lifted into the air, completely exposed.

“Concentrate fire!” Creed commanded, and every XCOM soldier with a rifle began firing on the suits. They could take damage, but not even Andromedon suits could hold against a sustained barrage of gauss fire. The viewports of the suits broke, and then went limp. Nuan didn’t know why they weren’t fighting back, but then realized that Eddison was likely keeping them in place telekinetically.

“Eddison!” She called, pulling out a plasma grenade, another gift from Aegis she’d heard. “Can you direct them?”

He got what she was asking, and gave a quick nod. She tossed the first grenade towards the suspended suit, and he raised his free hand as if to catch it, and moved it until it was in the shattered viewport of the Andromedon. Nuan repeated it for the second suit, with both suits exploding in a spray of plasma and fire.

The aliens had snipers as well, but the Commander was supposedly dealing with them. She glanced up at the rooftops to see Vitakarian corpses either hanging over the railings, or slumped on the ground. There were two left on one rooftop, and the Commander was just kneeling behind another nearby rooftop, one hand palm up.

Something flashed from the palm, a streak of silver, and the alien screamed and went immediately silent. Another flash and she saw that it was that marble thing in his hand again. Some kind of projectile? Whatever he was doing, it was working.

“Muton reinforcements approaching!” Ellinor called out as she turned to face the reinforcements coming from the nearby street.

“Move up!” Creed waved for them to follow. “Cut them down where they stand!”

“Overseer!” One of the ADVENT Officers came running up. “We’ll clear this street for you.”

Nuan looked back to see several ADVENT Engineers moving into place some kinds of launchers, which were large enough that they required trailers to transport them, and aiming them at the street where Mutons were pouring in. “Copy,” Creed waved them to the sides. “Provide covering fire! Let them do their work.”

Nuan looked at the launcher, knowing she’d seen it before, then her eyes widened. “Mine clearing charges!”

Creed glanced over to her as he fired down the street. “Yep. Seems ADVENT thinks they’re useful for more than just mine clearing.”

“Snipers cleared,” the Commander added, jumping down from the roof and pulling out his sniper rifle finally. “That technique was surprisingly effective.”

“Matthew knows what he’s doing,” Eddison agreed, pulling his hands back towards him, and a half dozen Mutons stumbled into the street.

“Fire!” The ADVENT Captain called, and the launchers shot out long cables into the air with a bang, right down the length of the street. The Mutons didn’t know what those were, and the cables actually landed on some of the exposed Mutons. “Detonate!”

The street was lit up in a series of explosions as the Mine Clearing Charges did their work, though instead of mines blowing up, it was Mutons. “Forward!” The Officer called, while Creed and the two Templars moved forward.

“Keep pushing them!” He called, as even then Nuan saw more aliens coming in the distance. Another intersection was coming up.

“Nuan, ready your Thermite grenades,” Creed said as they moved forward, firing towards the next alien blockage. “Let’s see if Andromedons can stand up to that.”

“Yes, sir,” Nuan said, holstering her rifle and pulling out the two grenades delicately. XCOM was getting more brazen in their deployment of dangerous chemicals. Not that she necessarily had a problem with it, but just because ADVENT was using ClF3 didn’t mean that Thermite and White Phosphorus were suddenly _safer_.

But they were effective.

Ellison hooked her axe on her belt, and fully devoted herself to erecting a shield that protected the entire street. “Get into position!” She roared. “Nuan, now!”

Nuan quickly took a look at where the heaviest concentration of enemies were. She decided to focus on the left groups, since they were composed of more Andromedons. “Grenades out to the left!”

She chucked them to the left, and the Andromedons nearby backed away, or at least as much as they could before the Thermite flared and burned through not only the nearby Mutons, but the cover as well. Unfortunately, while it did damage the Andromedon armor, it didn’t look to be fatal, and enough Andromedons had gotten out of the way.

“Shield collapsing!” Ellison warned, picking up her axe again. “Charge forward!”

“Center group being raised,” Eddison stated, lifting a palm up, and the front line of Mutons were raised into the air, and subsequently cut down by a combination of gauss and laser fire. The Muton forces were being completely overwhelmed by the combination of suppressive fire, and the Templars moving in and killing them within seconds.

The Commander was on the roof, and working on taking out some snipers on the opposing side of the street, to some success she saw as there were corpses on the other side. The Muton lines decimated, XCOM and ADVENT advanced further still, and now the Andromedons were retreating back. Seeing the Templars approaching them, they switched tactics, spraying acid from their gauntlets, forcing them to stay back.

 _“We’ve got trouble coming,”_ the Commander warned from the rooftops. _“Elites, and a lot more Andromedons heading our way_.”

“Understood,” Creed stated, taking the time to reload his weapon. “We fortify here.” Nuan took a position beside him, grateful for the aliens for making such useful cover. To her sides were more ADVENT soldiers, emboldened by the advance. Nuan wondered if they’d just gotten lucky so far. The aliens clearly hadn’t expected such a vicious attack, and were now paying a heavy initial cost.

But the aliens weren’t stupid. They would try to adapt eventually.

And this looked like the first true test.

Looking down her rifle, at the titanic Mutons approaching, easily twice her size, she couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. But then she looked to the front, where Pall and Ellinor were standing firm, Ellinor with a psionic shield in front of her, taking the brunt of the initial fire. The Commander was sniping from the rooftops, Eddison was readying for another attack, and ADVENT was moving more Mine Clearing Charges into the area.

Maybe this wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

The plasma began raining upon them, and the battle began anew.

***

_Las Vegas Ruins, Nevada- United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 11:12 A.M_

Oliver had been told that the aliens had built a fortress, but seeing it in person was something else. Whatever ruins there had been were gone, and in its place was what appeared to be an impregnable base. The black alloy wall that went around the perimeter was especially foreboding; especially as the harsh sunlight from the noon sun only made it stand out more.

“Begin firing!” One of the Officers called out, and the hundreds of tanks that had accompanied the ADVENT Army began their assault.

“Let’s see if I can get some shots,” Cassandra muttered, raising her sniper rifle as the MDUs began moving forward, as well as the Humvees and Breacher Vehicles that began zooming towards the desert. Explosions appeared on the alloy wall, and some into the city itself. Curiously enough, it didn’t look like the aliens realized they were under attack.

Odd.

“Load up!” Blake Harkin ordered, the XCOM soldier in charge currently as Patricia was occupied doing…well, he assumed she was the reason for the lack of a response. “Fatima, do your thing.”

“Got it,” Fatima confirmed as all of them boarded a Stryker. Oliver really hated traveling in confined vehicles, because he _knew_ that everyone was just one bad rocket or mine away from being killed in suitably meaningless fashion. If he was going to die, he’d prefer it be because of his own mistakes, or even just being outnumbered. Anything as long as he had some control over it.

“I hate these things,” Mona Eriksson echoed his thoughts as she climbed in it.

“Have you even ridden in one, Mona?” Lin Zexian, one of the new Taiwanese soldiers asked.

“I don’t like confined spaces,” was her answer. The ones with them chuckled at that.

“It won’t be for too long,” Blake said as the Stryker began moving out. “From the sounds of it, it seems like the whole alien base isn’t even aware we’re here. Patricia did her job well.”

“They don’t even have automated defenses?” Fakhr asked skeptically.

“It’s not _that_ easy,” Blake corrected. “The perimeter defenses are online, but there are no soldiers supporting them, there aren’t any aircraft, and I assume the Sectopods and Cyberdisks have to be activated manually. They might come, but by then it might be too late.”

“Pity,” Mona looked down at her gauntleted hands, which Oliver noted were different than the others. Thinner and made out of some different kind of fabric and no actual armor. Probably had to do with her abilities. Offensive Psions couldn’t use the same stuff as the rest of them since they were destructive enough to damage what they were actually wearing. “I was hoping to actually try some stuff out.”

“Believe me,” Oliver grunted. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities.”

 _“This is Seraphim Hammarström to appointed Overseer Harkin,”_ Viktoria’s voice said in their helmets. _“Looks like it’s sadly not going to be as easy as it looked. Guess the Cyberdisks are on some kind of contingency, and there are…”_ There was a pause. _“Yep, I would say a few thousand coming to defend the wall.”_

“Copy,” Blake confirmed, as the sounds of battle became more audible. “We’ll be ready. Fatima, I’d say start it now.”

_“Affirmative,”_

That was the benefit of having two immensely powerful Telepaths. One for neutralizing the enemy, and another for supporting allies. Oliver had heard what it was like to have Patricia supporting people, and he wasn’t sure it was something he was necessarily looking forward too. Anything that messed with his mind too much wasn’t something he was a fan of. But here he didn’t really seem to have a choice.

It probably wouldn’t hurt.

The Stryker stopped, and Fakhr hit the doors open and they charged out, first behind the tank so they had some cover from the enemy fire. The Strykers and other armored transports had parked largely the same way; horizontally to the wall, giving the soldiers cover until better defenses could be established.

ADVENT Engineers were already working to construct barricades between the tanks, supported by the rest of the ADVENT forces. The MDUs were still far behind the front line, but they were advancing and firing, and in the midst of them was the Goliath-class MEC, firing its massive railgun at regular intervals.

“Laying down covering fire!” Lin shouted as he began firing his autorifle at one of the turrets on the top of the wall. Oliver also began raising his own rifle to get a good look at what they were facing. The wall was even larger up close, probably close to twenty feet tall, with turrets lining the ground, middle, and top of it.

The ones on the bottom appeared to be gauss-based, or at least used some kind of solid projectile. The middling ones sticking out from the wall were exclusively plasma, and the ones on the top were a mix of plasma and laser, the latter of which was proving to be the most lethal. Computers were more accurate than Humans, and alien programming was at least equal to that of MDUs, and Oliver ducked down as he saw an ADVENT soldier get sniped by a laser directly to the head.

He swung his rifle back up, focused directly on one of the laser turrets in question, and fired. His enhanced vision allowed him to make a shot he would never have been able to without specialized equipment. The turret sparked, and exploded in a red burst. “One down!” He called.

Several tank volleys took out a few more turrets, even if they were largely not having a major effect on the wall. The main line of Abrams tanks were providing good suppressive fire, and making a lot of dents in the wall, but they weren’t quite as accurate. That however was going to change as they began moving forward, and the MDUs strode ever closer.

“Cyberdisks!” One of the soldiers screamed frantically, as the disk-shaped machines swooped over the wall, and immediately deployed into their attack formation. The green plasma fire that was slamming into the sand around them was soon joined by the hissing golden streaks of Cyberdisk rounds.

“Cover!” Fakhr called, out as she stepped back and loaded a rocket into her launcher. Oliver and Lin complied, and lit up the area around them, even if that seemed somewhat pointless since they were only dealing with machines which were harder to manipulate and distract. A yell from Mona, and Oliver saw a sizzling purple streak launch into the air and slam into one of the Cyberdisks, shredding the delicate insides and sending it plummeting towards the ground.

“Firing!” A rocket shot out and slammed directly into another cyberdisk, destroying it instantly while causing shrapnel damage to another one nearby. Another purple psionic lance, and another Cyberdisk was vaporized. Cassandra was doing her own share of work, resting her sniper rifle on the edge of the Stryker’s corner, and shooting at the turrets up above.

“What’s wrong with them?” She muttered as Oliver saw another turret explode. “They aren’t doing anything.”

Oliver aimed up to see what she was talking about, and frowned as he saw that the walls actually were being manned. They were definitely aliens, he could see at least a few Mutons and Runianarch soldiers up there. But they just stood there, looking down. It wasn’t even like they were frozen or incapable of moving. He could swear one of them was doing a _patrol_ from the calm way they just walked across the wall.

Well, at least until a sniper shot from Cassandra ended his life. Or was it a she?

The Cyberdisks still kept coming, and had appeared to realize that not everything was ok, and began taking better positions and retreating as needed. More still were destroyed, and the turrets were gradually taken out. Throughout the battle, Oliver felt more and more calm; more focused; he didn’t have to think about where to shoot next because he _knew_ his target would be there.

Fatima’s telepathy, he assumed.

Hm. Perhaps this was not as bad as he thought.

No words needed to be spoken by anyone as the ADVENT soldiers were under the same spell as the rest of them. Fire became concentrated, shots became focused and accurate, soldiers acted in time to save each other’s life from things they would have previously not been aware of. And slowly but surely, they began advancing the battle line forward.

The new wave of armored transports flew past them at some unspoken signal, approaching the wall itself. Out of them poured the Lancer teams, who destroyed what ground turrets remained around them, and began pulling out grappling equipment to scale the wall. Blake motioned them forward and they advanced to where the Lancers were.

This wasn’t so much a battle anymore as it was a rout. However, Oliver was not going to get his hopes up for an easy victory. This was just the outer wall, they still had the city itself to take, and it was only a matter of time before the aliens realized what was going on.

And yet, as he thought about it, he wondered what the aliens could actually do to stop this.

Hopefully, they couldn’t.

***

_The Cultro, Earth Orbit_

_11/6/2016 – 11:52 A.M_

They were launching their expected counterattack.

It was much larger than he had anticipated.

The Battlemaster looked down at the golden haptic display of the West Coast of the United States. They were attacking beyond Portland, which was…not entirely expected. Out of the possible targets, he would have thought those would be lower on their priority list, and should the outlying bases fall, that would put the entire northwest at risk of collapse. Even if Seattle were to hold, it wouldn’t last long if the Portland area fell.

A problem. And given the scale of the attack, he knew the bases there were not equipped to handle it. Not without reinforcements. XCOM and ADVENT forces were cutting through the defenses with a disturbing amount of speed, and their technological progress had been far greater than he had anticipated.

Armored vehicles, these new flying XCOM soldiers, chemical grenades, and their plasma dissipaters. That alone was giving ADVENT a massive advantage, since the local forces were equipped with primarily plasma weaponry. That ADVENT had been able to, if not negate their weapon type, interrupt it, was not a good development. They should not have managed to do it so quickly.

Hm. Perhaps they had been pushed too quickly. That ADVENT was primarily using this told him that Aegis was unlikely to be behind it, since Aegis knew that if they pushed too hard, he would have no choice but to put a very quick end to this war. This was not a major problem ultimately, but right now the current battle strategy was insufficient to counter it.

Then there were the reports of a new kind of ADVENT soldier that seemed to be invincible, much like certain XCOM ones. Lancers most likely, and ADVENT had probably turned them into MELD-enhanced super-soldiers. Not unexpected, but the bases primarily composed of Runianarch soldiers would fall easily to them. That was a problem that he needed to solve later.

The bases in Hillsboro and Salem were likely lost, and all that remained would be to extract a large cost from XCOM itself. If it was going to fall, he wanted some idea of how best to handle them. It wasn’t worth direct intervention, but there wasn’t a need to sacrifice the Vitakara unnecessarily. “Establish a connection to Runi’Yularan’sarrah.”

 _“Establishing,”_ the CODEX said. The golden figure of the Vitakarian overseer of the Portland regional defenses appeared, in full combat armor and holding a plasma rifle.

 _“Battlemaster,”_ was his curt greeting, looking around in response to something. _“Good to hear from you. We’re not holding well against-“_

“I am aware,” the Battlemaster interrupted, raising one fist. “Your orders have changed. Your own forces are insufficient against what XCOM and ADVENT currently have. Order all Runianarch soldiers through the Gateways to safety, and you will follow them.”

Yularan was clearly surprised. _“Retreat?”_

“You will die if you stay,” the Battlemaster stated flatly. “I will not sacrifice your soldiers for a defeat. And while your soldiers will retreat, I fully intend to keep ADVENT and XCOM occupied. I will order Muton units from Desolan itself to reinforce the cities. In addition, I will be releasing the new Sectoid Vanguards, as I feel this would be an adequate field test for their skills.”

 _“But to be clear, the intent is not to win,”_ Yularan noted slowly, once more glancing around. _“Then why continue fighting? Especially if you’re having our forces retreat?”_

“Information,” the Battlemaster explained. “Both in how these new developments have changed ADVENT, and how the Vanguards perform. They are expendable and can be replaced. Your soldiers cannot. Carry out my orders and signal my ship when your forces have evacuated, and establish Gateway connections to the ID numbers my CODEX will send you. Execute this without delay.” The Battlemaster cut the connection and looked back to the map.

Seattle was likely going to hold. Even if it didn’t, ADVENT would pay a heavy price to acquire it, and likely not get much more than a leveled city. Collective Andromedon Overseer V’Thrask had spent his time well, and made sure Seattle would not fall easily, if at all. The Andromedons might suffer severe losses, but holding the city was important, because if that fell, then so would the Northwest.

It was a problem, but one he was sure V’Thrask could handle adequately. He had proven competent, and the only thing that would undermine him was incompetence or luck, the former of which didn’t exist with Andromedons, and the latter he didn’t believe the concept of to begin with. They would have to be outfought, outsmarted, and outmaneuvered to have a chance of losing the city.

Still, no point in taking chances. He’d directed a portion of the system fleet to assist in the air defenses, and V’Thrask had established Gateways to several Collective bases full of Andromedons, Zararch, and Mutons. He was curious to see how they would handle the new ADVENT tech, since they would not fall to it so easily. If nothing else, important data would be collected.

Now he needed to figure out what was going on with Las Vegas. Of all the targets that could be attacked, he’d been convinced that would be the main one. A military base of that size, and location was too large a threat to ignore, and had adequately addressed it by making sure the Sargon there had whatever was needed to turn it into an acceptable fortress.

But he’d heard nothing from them so far. There was a general warning they were being attacked, but the Sargon Vegas-1 had not informed him they were under attack. That implied that either the force attacking them was not significant enough to warrant an actual update, or they had been compromised somehow. Which also didn’t make sense, since signal strength there was perfectly fine, and all diagnostics connected to the Vegas base were online.

With that said, the Battlemaster suspected something was wrong. It _had_ to be. “Establish a connection to the Las Vegas Command Base,” he ordered. “Priority One.”

_“Confirmed, establishing now.”_

Almost instantly, the hulking golden figure of the Sargon was before him. _“Battlemaster,”_ he greeted. _“I am ready to assist.”_

“Status report,” the Battlemaster demanded. “The general alarm was sent to us. What is happening?”

 _“Interesting,”_ the Sargon said, almost in a monotone. _“That must be an error. Everything is normal here. Everything is fine.”_

The Battlemaster was instantly concerned. Sargons didn’t talk like that. Not usually. They didn’t use words like _‘fine’_ either. _“I will rectify this error immediately, Battlemaster,”_ Vegas-1 continued in the monotone. _“I apologize for inconveniencing you-“_

“Display exterior cameras on Vegas Base Command,” the Battlemaster ordered the CODEX. Normally he wouldn’t force an override like this; he had a fairly good idea of what had happened, but he needed to know for sure. Holographic screens appeared, and it didn’t show some paltry ADVENT force, but what he would only assume was a large portion of their army.

They were bringing _everything_ to fight, and based on how close they were, and that the aliens on the wall were getting slaughtered like animals, he assumed they were winning decidedly. _Trask_. Clever. He now knew for sure what was happening, and he’d made a mistake in underestimating that. Now defeating ADVENT here would be much, much harder.

“Override Seven-Seven-Two-One-Seven, Desolan, initiate Reset Protocol, Countermeasure Two-Two-Sargon-One,” the Battlemaster stated to the Sargon. They were supposedly immune to direct mind control, but there were clearly some flaws left in the programming, and so he had to reset the psionic immunity manually. Revelean needed to fix that immediately.

The Sargon visibly froze, then moved again. _“Battlemaster, the situation is concerning. It appears that a hostile psion has managed to place the majority of our forces in a trance that leaves us unable to adequately respond to outside stimuli and information. We will not be able to forcefully remove them from this state without assistance.”_

The Battlemaster knew his options were limited, but the telepathy had to be dealt with. “Activate all mechanical units; I will be ordering a Gatekeeper to assist. That should deal with the psion affecting the majority of our soldiers. Reinforcements will also be coming, as will I.”

 _“Acknowledged, Battlemaster,”_ Vegas-1 confirmed. _“I will begin carrying out your orders and executing the appropriate contingencies immediately.”_

“I will be there shortly,” the Battlemaster stated, and ended the communication. “Head to the Las Vegas base,” he ordered the CODEX as he began issuing orders for reinforcements. “This needs to be handled immediately.”

***

_Seattle, Washington – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 12:08 P.M._

They were getting closer to the shield, and now they were facing much stauncher resistance than before. The Commander fought from the rooftops, and was now joined by teams of ADVENT Snipers, as they faced the Zararch agents across the city in a duel stretching entire city blocks. On the ground the Andromedons were being supplemented with Borelians, Mutons, and Elites.

XCOM was holding the line as ADVENT was rushing to reinforce the massive intersection that was now the location of the heaviest fighting in the city. There were no more open streets, instead there were black alloy barricades and the front of buildings reinforced. The aliens were not just using the apartments and two-storied buildings as mere constructs, but were fully occupying them and using them defensively.

“Pall, Ellinor,” the Commander said as he looked down the scope of his gauss rifle. “Clear the leftmost building and fall back.”

 _“Yes, Commander!”_ The two Templars followed his orders and dashed across the torn street, protected by Ellinor’s shield, and leapt into the window of the second floor. The Commander gave a grim smile as he executed a Zararch sniper on the roof of another building. That was one building done. Now they needed to deal with the line of aliens in the front.

“Gloria, prepare for a barrage on my designated position,” the Commander said, turning on his marking laser and aiming it at the frontal alien line. “Fire at will.”

 _“Local ADVENT forces, prepare for rocket barrage on enemy position,”_ Creed called as he waved for the rest of the XCOM soldiers to fall into cover. The Ballista-class MEC soon showed just how dangerous it was as the missiles streaked down to where the Andromedons and Mutons were hunkering behind, lighting up the street in a bright explosion of fire and shrapnel.

The Commander fired at one of the Runianarch soldiers who was foolishly trying to take a position at a window, or perhaps use the plasma turret set up there. Another body dropped to the ground. His genetic enhancements made this almost laughably easy. He ejected the empty clip and put in a fresh one as the smoke cleared and he could see how much was actually accomplished.

He frowned. Unfortunately not as much as he’d hoped. All the Mutons, and most of the Borelians were dead, but the Andromedons were either heavily damaged, or had retreated into the buildings, and now subsequently coming out. Hm. That was new. Some of the Battlefield Engineers had a new attachment to their backs, and it looked to be one of their red shield projectors…now clearly mobile.

“Elites!” One of the snipers called. “Concentrate fire!”

The Commander looked down the smoking street to see at least twenty of the massive Elites marching down. “Concentrate fire down the middle,” the Commander ordered, reaching into a pouch on his waist and pulling out his alloy spheres. “Nuan, give them another thermite grenade or two.”

 _“On it,”_ she confirmed. _“Throwing!”_

The throw was perfect and landed in the middle of a group of four Elites; it sparked with a bright flash, but unfortunately barely seemed to slow them down. The armor was torn, scorched, and weakened; yellow blood spilled from the now-exposed flesh, but it didn’t appear to be stopping them in the least. The barrage of gauss fire didn’t seem to be doing much more than irritating them.

It was clear what they were planning to do. Overwhelming ADVENT with Elites was a valid strategy, and one that was extremely difficult to stop. The good news was that it looked like there was very little behind this push, so if they took these Elites out, they might be able to actually advance instead of being held to a standoff.

He held a hand, palm up, and one of the silver spheres glittered in the midday sun. While he knew he wasn’t the most powerful telekine ever, he had been working on a way to take advantage of what he _could_ do, which it turned out, was more than he suspected. A small object accelerated to lethal speeds was not quite as impressive as mind control, but it was certainly more useful than what most people gave it credit for.

Not to mention he’d gotten rather good at it.

The enhancements to his body and eyes made his hand-eye coordination near-perfect, so lining up a perfect shot was barely a challenge. The sphere shot away instantly, directly towards the ornate eyehole of the Elite helmet, the weakest part of the entire thing. He was able to shoot it faster than the speed of sound, even if he needed some distance for it to be effective. But the Elites at the back? Those he could take out.

The farthest Elite in the back didn’t have any time to react as the sphere slammed into its eye and brain behind it, and withdrew to his palm all within the span of a few seconds. A rubberbanding attack, as he thought of it, easy to learn as it was close to a muscle reflex. He repeated the same thing with the next-closest one, killing each one instantly with well-placed alloy spheres.

The remaining Elites, and their Andromedon support, were close enough that this technique wouldn’t be effective against them. He quickly pocketed the spheres, and appraised the situation below. The good news was that they were being held at the intersection, but the bad was that ADVENT was taking losses.

“Eddison, we need to lift them up,” the Commander said. “Pall, Ellinor, status inside?”

 _“Almost clear, Commander,”_ Ellinor panted. _“Andromedons are not easy to kill with primarily melee weapons.”_

 _“Ready when you are, Commander,”_ Eddison also added, beginning to stand up. _“Give me covering fire!”_

The Commander also focused his own power, extending his right hand down to one of the Andromedons. Telekinesis was an odd feeling to him; he wasn’t really powerful enough to grab more than one thing at a time, maybe two, so perhaps the experience was different for someone like Eddison who could lift a dozen.

It was both what he expected and not at the same time; an intangible hand he controlled that could manipulate whatever he saw. The invisible hand clutched the yellow-helmeted Andromedons and _lifted_ into the air. And now came the part that he was quite good at. He might not have extensive powers, but he was going to be as lethal with the ones he had as possible.

Pressure was something he understood and applied, and he began squeezing. On the ground, Eddison, enshrined by the purple waves of psionic energy, raised both hands, and the front line of aliens was lifted into the air. A twist of his hands and they spun around, disorienting and rendering them incapable of firing back. Most Elites dropped their cannons, and the Andromedons clearly weren’t familiar fighting upside down.

The Commander didn’t distract himself with that, as he continued crushing the Andromedon in his grasp. The helmet casing began cracking, the acid canister on it’s back shattered, spilling the green chemical onto the ground. The hands were forced into misshapen positions, and the joints of the legs broken.

He unconsciously moved a hand underneath the one he was directing his power with, adding another hand to the one crushing the Andromedon, and applying two directions of pressure, the goal being forcing the alien into a broken, ruined ball of metal, flesh, and blood. ADVENT Rocketeers fired at the exposed aliens, blowing their armor apart, and gauss slugs ripping the exposed flesh apart in sprays of ichor.

The helmet of the Andromedon shattered, and the alien let out a final shriek before the oxygen hit its skin, turning it into a shriveled corpse in seconds. The Commander kept squeezing, and didn’t stop until the delicate controls on the inside were sparking and destroyed. He dropped one hand, and with an almost inconsiderate flick of his wrist, sent the ruined corpse of the Andromedon suit across the city.

The Elites were dying, slowly but surely as more rockets and grenades were tossed at them. Another thermite grenade by Nuan targeted their inverted bodies, and melted away their helmets as opposed to other parts of their body, allowing the ADVENT soldiers to fire away and kill them much faster. Andromedon suits lost their helmets, killing the pilots and reverting them to autopilot mode, which was solved by a few well-thrown plasma grenades.

Each dead alien was released by Eddison, and the aliens not caught in his telekinetic field were retreating further into the city. The Commander pulled out his sniper rifle again, and began firing at the aliens still exposed. Eddison had fallen to one knee, so the Commander knew he couldn’t hold this forever.

But they did it, and the last alien fell. For a brief moment, there was relative silence on the battlefield. “Status check,” the Commander said, looking down the scope of his rifle for more aliens.

 _“Eddison is wiped out,”_ Creed said, who had Cole kneeling down by him and checking up on him. _“He’ll be fine though. Everyone else is good to go, but we should stock up before moving forward.”_

 _“We’re fine as well,”_ Pall also informed him, as he saw the two Templars step out of the building they had finally cleared, their armor smeared with alien blood and soot. _“Building cleared. Doesn’t sound like there are others right now.”_

“Take a quick breather,” the Commander ordered as ADVENT began setting up a more permanent line. The Engineers were moving the massive Elite corpses towards the middle of the road, and stacking them up on top of each other, then sealing them with Symbiote sprayers as a kind of makeshift cover; a rather innovative tactic.

While the ADVENT squads moved up, they were also bringing in smaller necessities such as water, and small parcels of food for the other soldiers, which was being primarily handled by the ADVENT Medics who were treating the wounded and checking on the soldiers still alive; phasing them out with fresh soldiers so they could recharge and be ready for later fighting. The Commander wasn’t hungry, he doubted anyone was during combat, but water was welcome. He turned to jump down when his HUD suddenly blinked as he was receiving a communication from an unknown source.

He moved his hand to the button which would allow him to respond, but before he could, a voice preemptively spoke. _“The skills of your soldiers and yourself was not exaggerated, Commander. I am impressed.”_

That should not have happened. He had to acknowledge and approve any incoming communication. This was very bad, their communications were compromised if who he thought it was was actually talking to him. Instead, he moved to cut off exterior speech and communication. No one else should hear whatever this was. “Who are you?”

 _“I am Collective Andromedon Overseer V’Thrask, of the Andromedon Federation,”_ the being answered. It occurred to the Commander he hadn’t heard an Andromedon actually speak to him before. It didn’t sound too odd; the voice was deep, even if it sounded almost watery, and while it wasn’t a monotone, it didn’t have any additional emotion behind it. He would have expected nothing less from a species as inclined towards machinery and engineering as them.

“I don’t suppose you’ll explain how you broke our network encryption?” The Commander asked. He doubted the Andromedon would gloat; most aliens, it seemed, were not overdramatic attention-seekers, which was both a relief and worrying. So he wasn’t expecting a straight answer.

 _“Your people are skilled with what they know,”_ V’Thrask stated. _“But we have centuries worth of experience with network communications. Your methods are inferior to our own, but even still, it is not easy to break. Specialists are required, of which I am one. Most consider it not worth it to listen to one communication stream, but in this case it was warranted.”_

That…was a longer response than he’d anticipated. “Why bother talking at all?” He asked. “Why not listen in and keep a tactical advantage over us?”

_“Orders, Commander, I’m sure you can understand the need to follow them.”_

He frowned. “That doesn’t explain it. Why are you talking to me? We are not going to surrender, nor do we plan to retreat.”

 _“Good, that would not be ideal,”_ V’Thrask surprisingly agreed. _“But I would not be too concerned, Commander, I do not intend for your species to lose today.”_

The Commander blinked. “What?”

 _“The shield will come down in approximately three minutes,”_ V’Thrask continued as if he hadn’t heard. _“Move as many of your forces within it as possible, because it will not stay down forever. Current estimates place full repair at twenty-two point four minutes. Take advantage of this, because your assault will only take more time if you do not.”_

“You’re _helping_ us?” The Commander asked incredulously.

 _“I am under orders, Commander, I follow them.”_ A pause. _“I am unable to explain now, but the Federation needs to understand why exactly your species has captured the attention of the Ethereals, and what is actually happening on this world. The Ethereals have not been forthcoming to certain elements of our leadership. Several have decided the only way is to discover that for ourselves. They are hiding something from us, and I suspect you can tell us what that is.”_

Oh yes, he certainly could.

 _Assuming_ this wasn’t a trap. The story _sounded_ plausible, but the Commander was not going to make the mistake of assuming V’Thrask was on their side. He was under orders, as he said. “I agree. But I’m also not convinced this isn’t a trap.”

 _“I would be disappointed if you didn’t consider that,”_ V’Thrask said, not sounding any different. _“But that is irrelevant at the moment. I will keep in communication and guide you to the shield generator, and then you will meet us. Only a small number are aware of the current plan, and you will not share this with ADVENT. We are not interested in them. You will take us back to your base of operations and we will explain the situation in detail. If you are concerned with our motivations then, I am aware of your psions, and expect you to use them.”_

The Commander began nodding to himself. _If_ , and he still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a trap, _if_ V’Thrask was actually genuine, this could be an essential ally in the fight. That at least some Andromedons were willing to have their people defect to get information meant that the situation there was more complicated than any of them, even Aegis, had predicted.

When they learned an _Ethereal_ defected…well, that would be interesting.

“Fine,” the Commander said. “We’ll work with you for now. And keep in contact.”

 _“Confirmed,”_ V’Thrask said. _“Prepare for the shield to come down.”_

The Commander jumped down to his XCOM squad, all of whom were largely recovered. “Squad communications only,” he ordered. The soldiers immediately complied. “And prepare to move out immediately.”

“What’s going on?” Creed asked.

“Look!” Nuan pointed, and sure enough, the massive red shield that had covered the inner city of Seattle suddenly turned off.

“The hell?” Pall asked in wonder. “What happened?” The other ADVENT soldiers were also pointing, and the Officers clearly trying to communicate with leadership.

“A change of plans,” the Commander noted as he pulled out his WHEEE cannon. “Mission parameters have changed. Our new objectives are to destroy the shield generator.”

“Assuming we can find it,” Ellinor muttered. “It’s a big city.”

“Won’t be a problem,” the Commander said with some amusement. “Because our second objective is the extraction of several Andromedon defectors. One of whom just contacted me and informed me what was going to happen.”

Seven helmets stared at him in stunned silence. “ _Andromedons?”_ Creed asked skeptically.

“I’m not convinced it’s a not a trap,” the Commander said. “But it appears the Federation isn’t happy with the Ethereals stonewalling them on certain matters, and has some of their own to get answers. I assume they sabotaged the shield generator, but it will be repaired shortly. We need to get in there, follow the instructions this Andromedon V’Thrask provides, then get him and his other defectors to the Praesidium. And we’re not telling ADVENT.”

“Then we better get moving,” Eddison said. “How much time do we have?”

“About twenty minutes,” the Commander said as he turned towards the city. “Let’s go!”

***

_Hillsboro, Portland – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 12:17 P.M._

Roman fell back into cover as they kept moving deeper into the city, and the battle was in full gear for both sides. The air battle was lighting up the sky as enough AA guns had been taken out for the fighters to begin attacking in force, and the UFOs had been deployed in response. The aliens had also deployed Floaters to deal with the XCOM Archangels, which fortunately were in Salem, the other town nearby.

But the closer they got to the city center, the more entrenched everything was. The defenses were more established, and the defenders stronger. As of right now, the street they’d been fighting through now had several barricades set up in the middle of it, large enough for two aliens to stand behind and fire, and these were spaced as far as he could see. In the back were two buildings on opposite sides that had been converted into something of an anti-infantry tower, with Vitakarians manning plasma turrets and snipers on the roofs.

Not that ADVENT was in a bad position; far from it. Roman and his squad lead the charge with two other teams, several Molosser Handlers, and one Bradley tank, and hitched to that was some kind of launcher. A mine clearing charge if he’d seen it correctly. An interesting application if they would use it the way he was expecting them too.

“Maksim, can you get a shot on those gunners?” Roman yelled as plasma bolts rained down on them, even as the Engineers were working to establish better cover. Galina and Konstantin were laying down enough suppressive fire, supplemented by the Bradley to keep the ground-level aliens from firing temporarily, but the alien gunners and snipers were a different problem. They had reverted to speaking English for the benefit of the other soldiers, since communication was key in situations like this.

“Working on it!” Maksim called, spinning out of cover and falling to one knee as he lined up a shot. “Got him.”

“Redirect fire!” One of the Officers called. “Loose the dogs!”

Roman ordered his team to comply and they all aimed for the towers in the distance. Most didn’t hit, but Roman had been appraised of this tactic and he knew what would happen. The Molosser Hounds dashed forward towards the first split alien barricades, barking ferociously. The closest aliens shouted as they were suddenly assailed by the animals, and were discovering that the massive hounds were a dangerous threat.

The Hounds had been trained well, and used their weight to unbalance the aliens first, along with chewing up the hands, which were usually not as protected. Roman also noted that the dogs were almost disturbingly smart. The Hound chewing on the Vitakarian closest to them had the alien by the arm, muzzle splattered in golden blood, and was actually dragging it in front of the barricade in a way to protect itself from enemy fire.

If Roman had been able to muster any sympathy for the aliens, he might have felt bad at seeing the hound begin biting out the throat of the Vitakarian as she struggled and screamed. A slow way to die, and the other hound had similarly dragged its unfortunate victim to a similarly covered area. The Hounds were vicious and quick, and they seemed to know when they’d done enough damage, and dashed back to their Handlers, leaving the alien to choke on their own blood.

Roman smirked as he saw the Handlers give their Hounds a treat for a job well done. _Good boy_.

“We need to get rid of those towers,” Stanislav muttered as they dashed to the barricade. “It’s only going to get more dangerous. Those turrets and snipers are not going away.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Roman said. “ADVENT Command, requesting A-10 airstrike on the following points.”

 _“Acknowledged,”_ came the response. _“Awaiting target sites.”_

“Mark the buildings!” Roman called for the two Officers, who shouted affirmatives and switched on their laser markers. The rest of them kept laying down fire on the target areas, as the aliens on the ground began firing at them. Two ADVENT soldiers fell from plasma fire, and Roman killed a Vitakarian who’d stuck his head out too far.

Elena cheered as the first airstrike slammed into the leftmost building with the sweet sound of the A-10 machine guns. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it hadn’t just taken out the snipers on the roof, but shot through the roof and killed whoever was on the second floor. The second airstrike came a few seconds later with similar results.

“Push forward!” Roman yelled, motioning forward, as Galina and Konstantin, along with several other Gunners began taking the initiative and moving forward, firing while the rest of ADVENT rushed into cover ahead. The Molosser Hounds dashed forward under the hail of gauss slugs, and began attacking enemies at random.

The aliens were outnumbered and outgunned, and they were thoroughly disoriented from the thunderous assault they’d carried out. The ones attempting to run away were shot in the back, the wounded ones were executed on the ground, the unlucky ones were torn apart by the Hounds, while the aliens beside them either tried to shoot the dog, or backed away to get as far away as possible.

Some aliens were braver than others. A Borelian who was being attacked by a Hound was holding her own, even though the Hound had mangled her hand. However, she was completely exposed as a result and quickly executed. And just like that, the stalemate was broken, and they were in control of a fortified street, and the sealed city center was in the distance.

 _“I’ll have to find a detour,”_ the Bradley operator informed him. _“Can’t get through these barricades obviously. Sorry.”_

“We’ll manage,” Roman said as the rest of the ADVENT squads began appraising the area. “There doesn’t seem to be anything here right now.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Galina warned as she reloaded her autorifle. “We’re not done by a long shot.”

“Right,” Roman switched to a different frequency. “ADVENT Command, we’ve secured our immediate location. Requesting additional forces to hold the area. Plotting a path for tank support would be appreciated.”

 _“Four squads will be deployed to hold this area,”_ the operator said. _“Your team has done a lot, Shieldbearer Kostov, you want to let someone else take the lead for a bit?”_

Roman looked around, and all of them shook their heads. “Negative. We’ve still suffered no casualties or wounds. We’re good to go. However, I could use a renewed shield battery. I’m under thirty percent on mine.”

 _“That can be arranged,”_ the operator confirmed. _“Hold position and do not advance until the order is given. We’re waiting until the majority of our forces are in the same radius, otherwise we’ll be-“_

“Flanked, yes, I know,” Roman finished. “Not the first time I’ve done this. Don’t worry, we’ll hold this position.”

 _“Excellent…wait, hang on.”_ There was a pause. _“Shieldbearer, get your forces into defensive positions. Looks like you have company coming your way…we haven’t seen these before.”_

“Everyone into cover!” Roman yelled, moving forward until he was at the corner of a building, looking down the street. “Unidentified enemies approaching.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Anton muttered as he and Maksim moved together some heavy alloy crates for cover. “Unidentified? Command, can you tell us anything else?”

_“New unit appears Humanoid, black armor, very likely Vitakarian. Appears to be from the established Gateway.”_

“Those are the Lurainian, right?” Elena asked, looking up at him as she helped several other engineers stack the alien corpses on top of each other for some crude cover. “We haven’t fought them yet.”

“Instinct says yes,” Roman said slowly, thinking on everything he knew on the Vitakarian Special Forces. “But I don’t think they wear black armor. And I _know_ a lot of them are Borelian…Command, any Borelians spotted in similar armor?”

 _“Negative. But we’ve only seen a small amount. Lancers are moving in to deal with it in case it’s something else.”_ A pause. _“Shieldbearer, we’re trying to get eyes on your position, but you have contacts coming from the north and east streets; they seem to be taking advantage of your advance to flank you.”_

“Understood,” Roman cursed; this was not shaping up well. He waved Stanislav and Anton over facing that direction. “Anything-“

“Contact!” Maksim yelled sharply and fired. The black-armored humanoid leapt to the side as it came around the corner, almost as if it was expecting the shot. It didn’t appear to have any weapons on first glance, but when it raised its left arm he saw some kind of wrist plasma weapon.

“Fire at will!” Roman ordered, a command that was echoed by the other Officers.

All the ADVENT soldiers in the area began firing down the street, and the right arms of all the aliens flashed and they were suddenly holding purple shields on their arms, which looked suspiciously like… “Oh no.” Galina said.

“Command, the enemies appear to be psions,” Roman said urgently. “Requesting immediate ground and air support on our position.”

The psionic aliens didn’t advance, but instead lined up in a perfect line as Roman and his squad fired on them. Even though they fired a constant barrage, they didn’t manage to make a single shot. Roman took a few seconds to steady his aim, and instead of aiming at the head, aimed at the feet of the alien. It was a shot he knew he could hit, and the _moment_ he fired it, the alien shifted his feet and the slug missed.

“What the fuck?” Maksim demanded. “Why aren’t we hitting them?”

“We’ve got bigger problems,” Galina called and Roman saw another line of the aliens forming, and the hands of these were rippling with psionic energy.

“Throwing grenade!” Elena called, and threw a standard frag grenade towards the alien line, but the grenade suddenly stopped, then reversed course in mid-air and back towards them.

“Down!” Roman yelled and rolled out of the way. The grenade exploded, and wounded a couple of ADVENT soldiers, but fortunately didn’t kill them. The Medics rushed to get them out of the way, even as Roman scrambled to cover.

“This is bad,” Roman muttered to no one in particular. Psionics were not something they were equipped to handle, and it was only a matter of time before they began using telepathy. Even as the thought entered his mind, a nearby ADVENT soldier bolted up and began charging straight into the line of fire muttering gibberish to himself as he suffered some kind of mental breakdown.

The aliens behind the shield line fired several beams of plasma that killed him instantly.

“Ugh,” Galina clutched her helmet. “Everything’s spinning, I can’t see clearly.”

“More coming from the right!” Anton shouted, and to Roman’s dismay he saw that even more of the aliens were performing the same kind of shield line.

“[Help!]” Elena called out suddenly, throwing her weapon to the ground. “[Get me out of here now!]”

 _Fuck_. Without wasting a second he leapt towards Elena and tackled her to the ground before she bolted like the other guy. “[Get off me! Get off me!]” She screamed as she struggled. “[Get me out of here _now_! _Let me go!_ ]”

They couldn’t defend against this. “Sedative!” He yelled towards one of the Medics, one who hopefully was still uncompromised. _“Now!”_

She tossed a syringe to him, and he set it down on the ground as he attempted to remove her helmet; luckily she was weaker than him, even if it was difficult to control the fully armored woman. But he got it off, and she looked completely and utterly terrified, the pupils of her eyes were severely dilated and tinged purple. He gritted his teeth and found a vein with the syringe, and a few seconds later she slowed her struggles.

“[It’s going to be alright,]” he told her as the drug took effect. “[It’s going to be alright.]”

Then he heard the sound he didn’t think he would hear again. The sound of an A-10’s guns. Stanislav cheered as the bullets suddenly ripped into the alien line, which for once they didn’t seem to have expected. Roman dashed back to his position and saw that there were a few aliens still alive, but only the back line, and even then only a few had managed to protect themselves with some kind of psionic shield.

“We’ve got backup!” Maksim called, pointing to the opposite alien line which was very much intact. Roman watched in amazement as the entire alien line was suddenly lifted into the air and…crumpled for lack of a better word, a yellow fluid shooting from the joints and cracks of their armor as they were juiced by whoever was coming.

“XCOM!” Anton whooped, and sure enough, the welcome sight of a full squad of armored and armed XCOM soldiers came around the corner. The psionic aliens that were still alive _chittered_ something, and began backing up as they must have sensed the XCOM psions approaching. The Molosser Handlers took that opportunity to let the dogs out from their cover, and those ran down the black armored aliens, but unlike the others, these actually turned to defend themselves.

The shields in their gauntlets suddenly shifted to some kind of energy blade and stabbed down, actually managing to pierce the hide of the Hound. It yelped and backed up, and the rest of the aliens converted their shields to psionic blades and began slashing at the Hounds, which were being frantically called back.

Then suddenly all four of the aliens were lifted into the air. Roman turned to see the XCOM psion standing beside him, one hand extended palm up. He twisted the hand in a smooth motion, and the limbs of all the aliens suddenly rolled in a complete circle, sounding audible pops and cracks as all of them were crippled beyond repair.

Another gesture and the necks were snapped, and the psion let the corpses fall to the ground. “Good thing we got here in time,” he noted, looking around. “They had to start using psions eventually.”

“We appreciate it,” Roman said. “We’re not equipped to handle psionics.”

“Most aren’t,” the soldier nodded. “Psion Matthew Hawkins, XCOM.”

“Shieldbearer Roman Kostov,” he returned. “Ready to assist. What were those? I thought the only psions were Sectoids or Ethereals?”

“That,” Roman turned to the corpses. “Is a good question.”

“I’m checking that now,” a female XCOM soldier said; Roman noted that the flag on her armor was Chinese, surprisingly enough.

“What’s the status of your forces?” Matthew asked him.

“I’m down one,” Roman gestured to Elena. “Several more casualties and wounded for everyone else. ADVENT is sending reinforcements, but we were attacked before they arrived.”

“We’re going to advance forward,” Matthew said. “Hold the line here until ADVENT tells you to move forward.”

“Uh, Matthew?” The Chinese soldier called out. “This thing looks a lot like a Sectoid.”

“What?” Matthew marched over to where she was standing over the corpse. One helmet taken off, and Roman could see what she meant. In fact, he wasn’t sure it could be anything else. No mouth, pinkish skin, that… _shape_ of a Sectoid head…it looked like one, but if someone had decided to improve them significantly.

“Interesting,” Matthew said slowly. “Let everyone know. Vahlen will need to look at this.”

“I’ll inform ADVENT Command,” Roman told him. “And good luck.”

“Appreciated, Shieldbearer,” Matthew said, before turning back to his squad. “Come on! Move out!”

***

_Las Vegas Ruins, Nevada - United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – Unknown_

The attack must have started, even if she had no concept of what was actually happening. The sounds she picked up on were the muffled and submerged sounds of assault weapons, tank shelling, explosions, and aircraft roaring overhead. Yet it didn’t seem important in the context of what she was doing. The mantra was still repeating over and over, and it was only getting easier as more died from assumed ADVENT fire, allowing her to increase her control over the remaining aliens.

 _Everything was normal_.

When the attack had started, she’d come close to losing control of a portion of the aliens, but in the end, they were incapable of resisting her voice inside their heads. It was a surreal experience being so closely interconnected with so many aliens, simple and complicated. They were puppets on invisible strings that she manipulated, having no understanding of their lack of free will.

So she’d begun experimenting on just how far she could push their obliviousness; her own control over their minds. How much could she subject them to, and still not have anything be wrong?

Her will was ingrained deep enough that she could focus on specific groups, random aliens who were victims of her curiosity. Just by focusing on them for mere seconds, she was able to absorb the entirety of who they were; their desires, loves, likes, dislikes, and other feelings that were difficult to put into Human words. But there was enough overlap that she could understand them well enough.

All beings, it seemed, could be boiled down to understandable, base emotions that drove them. Some species exhibited these more than others, but the absences of some didn’t equate to none at all. Fear was universal. Anger was universal. Joy was as well. Now what those meant to different species varied, but what it represented was unmistakable.

She was reminded of the psychological profiles of the various species she’d spent time reviewing. Weaknesses that they wanted to exploit. Every species had their breaking points, which could further be refined by individual. Inside the minds of these aliens, those were easy to figure out. Now to see just if she could keep their minds intact…temporarily.

Performing an act of suicide or mass murder was trivially easy. It was simple to have the mate of a Vitakarian place a pistol to her head and blow her brains out in front of him. Or another Borelian execute every tenth member of her squad. Or Andromedons casually dismembering a compliant Muton in front of a complacent and mildly curious audience.

_Everything was normal._

_Everything was fine._

A few cases weren’t a problem, those she could easily control the reactions of. Nothing they saw would elicit a response, not yet. Once she left their minds, the full weight of what they’d done would hit them, and psychologically drive them to madness. If they were lucky, they might kill themselves before their minds snapped completely.

A win-win. Even in the event her control was somehow disrupted…she sincerely doubted the majority of the Vitakarian forces would be in a position to fight. She smiled to herself at that. Simple commands. An endless march forward, which could lead directly to walking off buildings or into the line of fire. All while thinking contentedly that everything was happening as it should.

Target practice was a normal activity, and the fact that the aliens simply decided to target other living aliens at this time was perfectly normal and acceptable. Sudden suicides were not emergencies, only something they had gotten used to recently. Death on a scale of hundreds at a time was not something to be concerned about, but merely another part of life here.

_Everything is fine._

_Everything is fine._

_Everything is fine._

Her control was becoming more tenuous, even as more died at her commands. ADVENT had yet to engage the main alien infantry forces, but even still were killing plenty on their own. But the more she warped their minds to accept the hell she had created, the more they were starting to realize this was _wrong_. On some level they understood that. The voices she had supplemented were screaming at what was happening, and she could only suppress it for so long.

Even she had a limit. Or did she?

How far could she go here? What did she have to lose by dominating these lesser beings? It wasn’t as though they mattered in the scheme of this war, and were only standing in the way of their eventual victory. Their fates were decided, the only question was how they would be removed from this war.

She would only get better with practice, and there was still more she was curious about…there were some limits that she needed to push, to see just how much she could subject these aliens to and prevent them from reaching their breaking point. Self-mutilation? Torture of others they cared about? Perhaps that would be an interesting test-

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

It dawned on her exactly what she was thinking about doing, and what she’d already done. The distraction lessened her already slipping control of the aliens, and the dawning horror and insanity began rising, which she struggled to keep suppressed.

_Everything is normal_

She hadn’t _intended_ to go quite that far when she’d started…but the curiosity had been too strong. She _needed_ to see just how much she could do.

_Everything is fine._

But there was a right and wrong way to do things, and she’d let herself slip into forcing beings, even aliens, into doing horrific things for no other reason than she was curious. And she still wasn’t sure why she’d snapped out of the experimental trance she’d been in. The Commander would have been disappointed in her.

This needed to just end now. She felt it more merciful to just give them a quick death. Something-

The final vestiges of control were shattered as the screaming penetrated her consciousness, forcing her to retreat into her own mind. _Gatekeeper_. In a rush the sounds, colors, and chaos of the world came back into view; initially disorienting, but fast enough to stumble to her feet and look forward.

The ADVENT forces were scaling the wall surrounding the city, and Rocketeers and Engineers were setting up charges to blast their way into the city. But there were reinforcements coming, and the Gatekeeper had to only be one of the units coming to assist. She opened a channel to her squad. “We’ve got a Gatekeeper, I’ve lost control of the alien forces.”

 _“Understood,”_ Harkin answered. _“We’re in the city now, and…uh, well, whatever you did…it worked.”_

She winced. “I won’t be able to provide much assistance until the Gatekeeper is taken out. I would assume that there are also other reinforcements coming, likely from Gateways.”

 _“Leave those to us,”_ Viktoria interjected. _“We’ll locate and take out the Gateways…damn it. Looks like they’re getting air support now.”_

“UFOs incoming!” One of the Officer yelled, pointing to the sky where there were a small fleet of UFOs coming. Twenty? Thirty? She couldn’t tell, but she did see the smaller UFO that indicated an Overseer. Patricia pursed her lips and switched her channel to Sabre Squad.

“Iosif,” she said slowly. “I believe the Battlemaster has arrived, and he’s brought another army with him.”

 _“Understood.”_ A pause. _“We’re heading over there now.”_

***

_Las Vegas Ruins, Nevada - United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 12:38 P.M._

_“Approaching enemy contacts,”_ the CODEX stated emotionlessly. _“Dropping.”_

The port opened underneath and the Battlemaster plunged towards the ground, allowing him an excellent view of the current situation. It was…troubling, to say the least. ADVENT armored vehicles were approaching the wall, indicating the perimeter defenses had ultimately failed, and the UFOs were engaging their air forces, so a large part of the AA defenses had likely also been compromised. The wall had not been completely breached, but there were ADVENT soldiers pouring over it via established grappling hooks that pulled up soldiers from the ground.

The opening streets were now engaged in open combat with the now-freed Mutons, which would soon be joined by Sectopods, the Vanguards, more Cyberdisks, and Elites which would be coming through the Gateways. The first order of business was taking care of the ADVENT forces inside the base.

He angled himself towards the street with the heaviest fighting, and stabilized himself with a telekinetic blast towards the ground in the middle of ADVENT forces. He crushed one under his boots upon landing; transitioning to a full circle sweep which decapitated all the soldiers in his immediate vicinity.

“The Battlemaster!” One of them yelled. “Fall back now!”

Normally he might have felt inclined to take his time and get some kind of enjoyment out of this, or practice if nothing else. Humans couldn’t kill him, but they could provide a faint challenge. But he’d underestimated them so far today, and he could not afford to go easy on them. He raised a hand, extending a ranged telekinetic reach and clenched his fist, crushing their skulls in one brief burst of power.

The air around him shimmered as he dashed forward, violently stabbing one of the MDUs that had come over, then immediately dashing behind the other two accompanying it, stabbing another through it’s central control unit, while telekinetically grabbing the other and violently throwing an arm up, sending it into the air.

His other two hands were not idle either, both extending in the opposite directions of each other, throwing out a violent telekinetic wave which threw the ADVENT soldiers caught in it away, the force killing most of them outright when they collided with walls, or the unforgiving pavement. More MDUs jumped down from the wall, one of which he sliced in half since it landed next to him, and another he telekinetically yanked forward, pulling the weapon out of its grasp.

Then it charged him, attempting to pummel him into submission or death. Unfortunately the Battlemaster didn’t have time for sparring with the inferior robot and slammed a psionic-enhanced fist through the central processor of the MDU, while ripping the head off with a free hand. The wreck he tossed back onto a retreating ADVENT team, and now noticed that there were more soldiers literally jumping down to fight him.

These were different. Lancers. He recognized the distinctive helmets and black armor. And they clearly approached him with a plan in mind. Some of them wielded melee weapons; some which made sense, like warhammers, maces, and swords, but some that didn’t so much, such as daggers, katanas and other archaic Human medieval weaponry.

Clearly they had been inspired by the Templars, and he didn’t have the desire to toy with them, so he charged forward with an initial swipe upward which should have dismembered and beheaded the first Lancer in question. However, upon impact all it accomplished was sending the Lancer flying back with a yell of pain.

The other Lancers with gauss weapons were holding back and spreading out. Smart, not grouping up would make them survive longer. Their only problem was that they had forgotten he didn’t just fight with a sword. He thrust out one hand, blowing the melee Lancers away, and with his lower ones telekinetically grabbed the eight Lancers aiming their weapons at him and lifted.

In his grasp, he dashed forward and swung for a beheading slash. But instead of it being clean, the blade got about halfway through the neck of the unfortunate Lancer, before getting stuck. The Human gurgled and likely died quickly, but that was enough to let the Battlemaster know what he was dealing with. His effectiveness with his sword was going to be reduced since they had genetically enhanced their skin.

The Humans really had learned their lessons from previous battles. In that case, rendering them incapable of further issues was the best method of dealing with them right now. With a gesture he sent them flying into the air and over the wall. It likely wouldn’t kill them, but he doubted they would bother him again.

The melee Lancers were charging him now, six in total, and he figured the best means of defense was to do what they didn’t expect. Their weapons wouldn’t hurt him, and his was likely to be more of a hindrance than help, so he threw it with as much force as he could summon at one of the Lancers, impaling her in the throat and sending her flying back.

They almost skidded to a stop, but he didn’t waste another moment and telekinetically pulled one to his hand, grasping the smaller Human like a toy as he held it by the arm, while using his other hands to simultaneously twist the neck, arms and legs until he heard them crack. Once that was done, he tossed the Lancer aside and pulled another one to him, repeating the same thing.

Now the Lancers were retreating, but to little avail. He dashed forward right behind them, and lashed out in a solid kick to the head of one, snapping his neck back and sending him flying, while pinning another under his foot, kneeling down and pulling up on the torso, breaking their back and likely killing them.

He summoned another Lancer to his grasp, and repeated the technique, slamming the unfortunate Human’s back onto his knee, eliciting a shriek before he threw her body irreverently to the side, while he extended a free hand to catch the final Lancer and held him tight with two hands while he twisted the Lancer’s neck with the other one like a screw.

The threat taken care of, he telekinetically recalled his sword to his hand, and realized that no one else was around to fight. Even the wall above him was free of ADVENT, which meant they were scared, especially since he’d taken apart their best units in mere moments. Understandable, and they had put up a decent fight. They knew they wouldn’t win against him, and in that context, retreat was the only valid tactic.

Muton, Sectoid, and other Collective forces were marching to his position; oddly no Vitakarians he noticed, but that wasn’t important. “Spread out and eliminate the Humans,” he commanded, brandishing his sword as he turned to lead them down another street. “I will assist in driving them back. Deploy the Sectopods to destroy their armored vehicles-“ He cut off abruptly as the sound of an XCOM Skyranger streaked overhead down the area he was heading.

Something dropped from it, blocking his way, and the Skyranger was too fast for the plasma fire shot at it in response. The Battlemaster appraised the dropped machine…no…the machine stood, nearly his exact size, brandishing a shield and sword of its own. The armor was more refined and humanoid than similar machines, but it was no question as to what it was. A MEC.

More specifically, a MEC clearly designed to fight him.

“You will die today Battlemaster,” she said, lifting her alloy shield with the XCOM logo emblazoned on it. “We will ensure it.”

Just as she said it, another Skyranger flew over, and several soldiers jumped out, landing beside the MEC. All of them wore XCOM armor and wielded weapons. The Battlemaster was somewhat amused to note he recognized some of them. Iosif extended his mace in a salute, his body rippling with psionic energy. Beside him was Carmelita, who carried a longsword this time, and some kind of new weapon. She had a new helmet, with a yellow smiley face on it.

Were the situation different, he would have found that odd.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

There were three more Templars beside them, and another psion in the back, none of which he recognized. Two more of the soldiers ran backwards, and he saw the weapons clutched in their hands. Snipers. Perhaps useful if he was vulnerable to such attacks, but they would simply be detrimental to the overall battle.

“I will handle them,” he told the Vanguard who had walked up beside him. “Deal with the other ADVENT and XCOM soldiers.”

The Sectoid made an affirmative chitter, and the aliens behind him dissipated as he raised his own blade in a salute. There would be no toying with them today, but he expected them to put up a good fight, and that was worth acknowledging. He raised his own greatsword in a return salute, the steel brightly reflecting the sun as they prepared to duel on the torn pavement.

Then with a flourish, he charged forward to meet the soldiers head-on. The battle today would not be decided by armies, but by the outcome of this fight.

One which he knew he would win.

***

_Las Vegas Ruins, Nevada - United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 12:22 P.M._

“Time’s up,” Harkin grunted as they came under immediate plasma fire from within the control station. “Patricia says they have a Gatekeeper. Guess that’s our next target.”

Oliver just nodded and kept firing on the small army of Mutons that was approaching from further within the city. The good news was that they had assumed control of one of the gate stations, and it fortunately wasn’t psionically locked, and had been relatively simple to open. There was a small issue in that it was in Ethereal Script, but Fatima had walked them through, even if her own telepathy wasn’t working thanks to the Gatekeeper.

“Elites!” Fakhr called. “And Berserkers incoming!”

“Hold this line until the gate is opened!” Blake commanded as he kept firing, taking out one of the unhelmeted Mutons in a burst of gauss fire.

The roar of the Berserkers sounded as they charged forward, directly towards their own tenuous position. With a yell Mona thrust out her arms, shooting purple lances of energy that violently eviscerated the aliens; not quite killing them, but severing their bodies and legs, leaving smaller pieces on the ground which still tried flopping towards them before they bled out.

Oliver dashed to the corner of another building for a better shot. Several shots from Cassandra, who had set herself up high on the wall, took out several more Mutons. ADVENT still had a presence, even if grappling up on the wall was dangerous now that there were aliens firing on it. He fired a few shots, all at one of the Elites that was taking an open position and rendering the open street a death trap for anything in it.

An entire squad of ADVENT soldiers died, and Fakhr on the opposite of him hissed as her arm was clipped by a plasma bolt. “We need to take those things out!”

 _Duh_ , Oliver thought as another Elite joined the first, then another, and with the entire street covered, they began walking down the street. This was, as Fakhr had so expertly noted, ‘not good’. The problem was the Elites could seemingly survive anything, and on top of that didn’t feel pain. “Mona, can you do that again?”

Psionic energy was almost sparking off the psions arms as she hunkered from the barrage of plasma fire. “Not forever!” Despite that, she spun out of cover, falling to one knee and thrusting one arm out, shooting another beam of psionic energy into the middle Elite, literally blowing a hole through the neck, which was enough to kill it, and the body fell to the ground.

“I…can’t do that again…” she gasped, stumbling back into cover, and Oliver noticed how bad a shape she was really in. To begin with, whatever armor had been on her arms, or any kind of covering at all, was gone, leaving her skin completely exposed. What also didn’t help was that the psionic energy was quite literally tearing it apart, and it was subsequently repairing itself at the same time. He now understood why Offensive-specializing psions were required to get the Biomuscular Regeneration genetic mod.

“New plan,” Blake called as the Elites held position as _four_ more approached, and behind those were a few dozen more standard Muton soldiers. “Target the guns. We can’t get their armor, but we can take out their weapons.”

“Hopefully,” Lin muttered as he once more tried his own return suppressive fire. “You guys take those out, I’ll try and slow them down!”

“I’ve got the left one,” Cassandra called.

“Me and Oliver can try for the right,” Blake said. “Fakhr, can you fight?”

“Stings, but I’ll manage,” Fakhr grunted, hefting her gauss rifle; the armor of the arm that had been shot either scorched or missing altogether. “ADVENT forces, provide covering fire now!” Several of the Officers yelled affirmatives, and the barrage of gauss slugs seemed to concentrate in the center of the street.

“Aiming,” Oliver called, swinging out and taking a few precious seconds to line up a good shot. The good news was that the plasma cannon was massive, and there were some clearly vulnerable areas. He aimed for the glowing plasma cells, or at least that’s what he assumed they were, and fired. The gauss rounds hit dead-on, and penetrated far enough to cause the cannon to spark, which immediately got the attention of the Elite who swung his cannon to unload on his position.

Oliver heard a roar and an odd-sounding explosion, and he turned to peek out and saw one of the Elites was now without an arm, and half the armor protecting his chest was shredded or gone. A burst of fire from Blake triggered an explosion on the other Elite, which unfortunately just took out both hands, and moderately damaged the armor.

“We’ve got help coming in!” Cassandra whooped, as ADVENT forces were now pouring through the almost opened gate. Rocketeers and Shieldbearers led the way, with dozens of ADVENT soldiers, Gunners, and Engineers behind them. The Elites began backing up, and their reinforcements halted and instead began firing from their fixed positions.

“Protect the Flails!” One of the Shieldbearers called, marching forward and firing on the retreating Elites. “Street Sweeper stage is a go!”

Oliver was not completely sold on the Street Sweeper tactic, which involved the usage of tanks which had attachments affixed to them called Mine Flails. Truthfully, he wasn’t too surprised that they were going to try that on enemy positions, but he wasn’t sure if rapid spinning chains would be as effective against armor.

The streets themselves were wide enough for two, and behind the Shieldbearers, and flanked by multiple ADVENT squads were the Mine Flails themselves. They sure looked intimidating, even if the chains were idle at the moment. “Push along with the tanks!” Blake ordered as the Flails drove past the guard station. “Oliver, Lin, assist the front! Fakhr, come back to Mona so I can take a look at both of you.”

“Copy,” Fakhr said, and dashed over as her position was retaken by more ADVENT soldiers. The Elites tried firing on the Flails, but clearly weren’t sure where to fire. They couldn’t slow it down, since the Flails moved by treads, and was partially covered by the flail attachment itself. The Flail also had a main gun that was firing into the alien lines, but it was well-protected by armor, and the Shieldbearers whose emitters were rendering all alien plasma fire useless.

It was rather amazing to see devastating barrages of plasma just…turn away, not even getting close enough to cause any harm. The gauss fire by ADVENT and XCOM was unaffected, and dozens of aliens fell as they scrambled back. “More Berserkers!” Lin called, as four of the Juggernauts charged forward, unaffected by the hail of gauss slugs.

 _“Starting the flails,”_ came the warning from one of the drivers. _“Stand back.”_

ADVENT quickly repositioned and got out of the front, as the motors started working, and the chains began swinging around and around. It was slow at first, but it soon reached blurring speed in a few seconds. The Berserkers didn’t know what the tanks were, or didn’t care, but they were determined to destroy them all the same.

The first Berserker raised her wrist tipped with sharpened blades at the front of the Flail, ever charging forward, and with a stab forward, was immediately flung to the ground. It looked like part of the arm had gone flying off as well, but it happened too fast for Oliver to really be sure. What he _was_ sure of was that the Berserker was first forced to the ground by the whip of the chains, and said chains completely ripped the alien apart, armor and all, in a spray of metal and blood.

Oliver blinked as the same thing happened to the other Berserkers who couldn’t stop their charges in time, and were literally torn apart by the spinning chains. Yellow blood was being flung everywhere as the Flails drove over the chunks of flesh, bone, and armor that had once been an alien. The entire ADVENT force cheered, himself joining them, as the Elites began backing up after seeing just what the Flail could do.

Oliver joined the march forward, fighting beside one of the Flails with several other ADVENT soldiers as they kept advancing forward. For once, they now had a way to keep going forward the aliens didn’t have a way to stop right now. The Muton forces were retreating, and were subsequently being killed off by the unrelenting storm of gauss fire.

He glanced behind him to see there were even more pairs of Mine Flails coming through the entrance, and turning onto different streets to take the fight to other areas of the city. Street Sweepers indeed.

Oliver grinned and marched forward, ever continuing their march on the aliens.

***

_Salem, Portland – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 2:08 P.M._

“ _Two Heavies behind you,_ ” Ted called out as Sierra swooped to the left, shooting down another few of the regular Floaters that had been deployed in a questionable attempt to slow them down.

“Understood,” she acknowledged, then took a brief second to orient herself and twist her body around to shoot the Heavies behind her. They clearly hadn’t expected the maneuver, and swooped upward as she unloaded with her gauss rifle, shredding one and sending it plummeting to the ground. The other one was quickly shot out of the sky by Anna with several laser pulses.

“ _Time to get those Gateways?_ ” Ted asked as he flew towards their position, faint psionic energy enveloping him.

“We’d better,” Sierra said. “You heard Matthew’s update. Some new kind of Sectoid. We need to shut those down now.”

“ _At least we know where they are,_ ” Anna said as they blasted their way towards the city center. “ _They’re nothing if not consistent._ ”

“Alright, we’re going to do flamethrower runs first, then touch down in the Gateway area,” Sierra ordered as they approached the small fortress, or what was left of it after their continued attacks. The only things that now even tried to fight them were Floaters, and they were running dry on those, especially with the ground forces getting overrun. “Anna, provide covering support.”

“ _Will do,_ ” Anna lowered herself to begin hovering just above the fortress wall, laying down suppressive fire on the exposed squares where the four Gateways were stationed, and deploying Mutons, Sectoids, Vitakara, and Floaters in steady streams. Sierra assumed that they weren’t expecting anyone to be brazen-or crazy enough to attack here. They scattered once the Archangels flew over the wall, but for many it wasn’t quick enough.

Sierra lowered her wrist and prepared for the blowback of blasting the ground with her flamethrower. The white-orange flames engulfed dozens of aliens in a single sweep as she flew over the Gateway square. Ted was having similar success, and Anna was throwing what remained into disarray. “ _Are we trying to capture or destroy these?_ ”

Sierra thought about that briefly as she shot around for her ground landing. Both had merit, but it would come down to if they could effectively hold them long enough for ADVENT or XCOM to secure them. If they couldn’t hold, the aliens might be able to repair disabled ones. “Destroy for now,” she said. “We can build them now.”

“ _Understood._ ” Anna focused her weapon on one of the Gateways, none of them sending out reinforcements, at least for the moment. The weapon was surprisingly having little effect on the structure itself, so instead she turned her fire on the elerium generator next to it, and destroyed it with a green explosion that took out one of the ‘arms’ of the Gateway it was next to.

Now more aliens were coming out, Runianarch soldiers who didn’t know anything about what was happening, so instead they just shot at whatever moved. Anna was forced to maneuver to the side, while Sierra angled herself towards a group of three; swinging her feet down and nailing one directly in the back, while shooting the ones to her left and right within seconds.

Once those were cleared, she clipped the rifle to her chest and aimed her flamethrower gauntlet at the active Gateway and fired into it. She smirked as she hoped she’d taken out a few alien reinforcements. After chucking a thermite grenade into the sightless void for good measure, she aimed at the elerium generator and fired, activating her jets to boost her back to avoid the explosion.

Several plasma bolts clipped her, throwing her off-course and she unceremoniously crashed into a stack of crates. She wasn’t hurt, but it reminded her how easy it was to be taken out of commission. But she was on her feet in seconds, firing at the trio of Mutons advancing on her position, plasma bolts flying her direction.

She fell to one knee and lined up her rifle on them. Easy. It took only a second to line up a headshot. She fired, lined up another, fired, and repeated the same thing for the last one. As the last Muton body hit the floor, she jumped into the air, jets blazing as she shot into the sky. Another elerium explosion took out another Gateway, leaving only one more.

All of them were in the air, but the aliens were putting up something more of a fight, and had smartly rallied around the last Gateway. At least it would have been smart, but all it enabled was a perfectly timed psionic lance from Ted whose blast either ripped their armor apart, or threw them back. Sierra swooped around their flank, and scorched the area with her flamethrower, incinerating anything that dared stand by the Gateway.

A few laser blasts from Anna ensured that nothing would come out of the Gateways again, and, mission accomplished, they got out of there as quickly as possible, heading straight for the safety of the ADVENT line. “Gateways at Salem are destroyed,” she informed Chief Marshal Peterson. “We’re going to restock before heading to Hillsboro.”

 _“Great job!”_ He congratulated. _“I think we’ll be able to take it from here. They were not expecting us to attack here, that’s pretty certain.”_

“We’ll be on call until the battle ends,” she reminded him. “Things start getting heated here again, we’ll fly over.” With that she cut the comms, and flew towards the designated resupplying area.

The aliens were going to need to do a lot better if they ever wanted to stop them. But knowing them, Sierra suspected that this kind of attack was _not_ going to work as well in the future. Better to enjoy it while it lasted.

***

_Seattle, Washington – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 2:10 P.M._

Of all the ways Nuan had expected the battle to go, working with some (possibly) traitor Andromedons was not something she had ever considered. Granted, on some level it wasn’t unprecedented. There had been the entire incident with Nartha, and then Aegis had also defected, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that an Andromedon could defect…but honestly the only thing that would have surprised her more was if a Sectoid had been the one to defect.

The Commander was clearly skeptical, but there hadn’t been much time to argue since the shield was going to come back online shortly, and they had to find and shut down the shield generator. The Andromedons helping them had surprisingly kept in contact, from the moment they had begun rushing deeper into the city.

 _“When you reach the intersection, hold position,”_ the Andromedon, V’Thrask ordered.

“You’re going to need to give a better reason,” Creed commented as they approached the designated intersection, all of their weapons up and ready. “We’re in your territory, and could be surrounded easily.”

 _“Take your position if you need to,”_ V’Thrask didn’t sound even mildly put off by Creed’s tone. _“Unless you want to walk into a patrol of two dozen Andromedons, we need to lock on your exact position.”_

Nuan did not like the sound of that. For one, they didn’t know if they could be trusted, and at the wrong moment they could betray them, killing the Commander of XCOM, not to mention all of them. Then again, there wasn’t anything stopping them from doing that already. A more precise lock likely wouldn’t matter much if the Andromedons really were planning to betray them.

Still, she wasn’t going to stay quiet. “Commander, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Even if they are tracking us now, do they need an exact fix on us? Is there anything stopping a missile strike or worse once they have that?”

 _“To clarify,”_ a new Andromedon voice interjected, only a shade lighter than V’Thrask. _“The lock is for us to establish network connections with your suits. Your locations are already known to us. I am A’Darrah, Andromedon Federation Collaborative Data and Systems analyst. I intend to sync your current HUD and radar systems with information directly from our own communications network.”_

The frown was clear in Eddison’s voice. “Wait. How can you do that? Our own systems can’t be compatible with yours.”

 _“Not originally,”_ A’Darrah stated. _“But the network and programming security of your suits is primitive and inadequate to coordinated machine intelligence hacking. The Federation has successfully reverse-engineered Aegis-level armor of XCOM, and are fully capable of hacking it if needed. You are fortunate functions are limited, otherwise this would be employed by our Battlefield Engineers. As it is, I contest the only reason this has not been put into practice is because of the small number of XCOM soldiers that exist. I would expect this to change in the future.”_

“Let them do their thing,” the Commander said as they reached the intersection. “We’re committed now.” The Commander didn’t sound worried, and that was likely because he probably had a plan if the Andromedons did betray them. If there was anyone who would, it was him.

The streets were surprisingly empty, even if there were clear signs of fortifications and barricades at various parts of the roads. “Seems like everything dried up,” Pall commented, battleaxe raised as he looked for _something_ out of the ordinary.

 _“I have redirected the necessary forces away from your current position,”_ V’Thrask explained. _“Most are currently engaged in battling ADVENT Lancer squads, and the rest are holding back against other tank-led ADVENT Offenses.”_ A pause. _“Your species is innovative with weapons of war. Your tactics are flawed, but nonetheless are effective against certain enemy types.”_

“Thanks,” Ellinor muttered dryly. “Always nice to be considered a threat.

Nuan’s HUD suddenly blinked, and instead of the small minimap at the upper right corner of her screen, it was replaced with a completely different element, that was _not_ originally Human. Instead of a small 2D map, it was a full 3D rendering of their immediate city, along with miniature figures that were others in her squad, and red figures further on for enemies.

 _“Your HUD technology is insufficient,”_ A’Darrah said, and Nuan could almost imagine the barest hint of emotion in it. _“I have replaced the current and ineffective element with our own. I have also marked out a path which will take you to the shield generator. V’Thrask will attempt to redirect Collective soldiers, but you will have to fight the ones guarding the shield generator.”_

“Understood,” the Commander said, and they began following the designated line that took them deeper into the city. “What is enemy composition?”

Nuan couldn’t help but notice what the aliens had done to the city as they dashed through it. There were many buildings that were completely trashed, but the further they went in, the buildings started getting sparse altogether; clearly surgically removed, and the ones that remained were converted into small fortresses, with alloy paddings and barricaded roofs. The streets themselves were similarly protected, each intersection having barricades in all directions, as well as crates of unidentifiable supplies.

 _“There are two parts; exterior and interior defense,”_ V’Thrask answered. _“Exterior defense will be your largest issue. There are four Muton Elite guards, sixteen Lurainian soldiers of various races, mostly Borelians. The area is covered by four Zararch Snipers, and there are twelve Andromedon soldiers.”_

Nuan saw Creed exchange a glance with the Commander. “That seems like a lot.”

 _“Interior defenses are composed of two Battlefield Engineers and several dozen Vitakara support staff,”_ V’Thrask continued. _“You will have little trouble disposing of them.”_

“Still,” Creed sounded skeptical as they entered an alleyway, weapons drawn cautiously since they didn’t fully trust the radar. “That’s a lot. The Lurainian can be handled. The Elites will be difficult if we don’t deal with them immediately. The Andromedons will be a problem.”

 _“Anticipated,”_ A’Darrah interjected. _“The Andromedon suits can be temporarily shut down. The onboard intelligence can be subverted with proper authorization, but the result will be that it locks me out of the system for a half-hour afterwards. You will likely only be able to rely on that once.”_

Well, it was something. “And how long will that take them out?”

_“However fast they decide to either contact the Overseer, or assume their suits have been compromised. Two to four minutes at least.”_

Not a lot, but with four psions, and all of them genetically enhanced, it wasn’t technically _impossible_. Just highly improbable. “That’ll have to do,” the Commander grudgingly said. “But don’t launch your attack until I give the word. We might not need it.”

“Ah, and there is the shield,” Rebecca noted wryly as the sky was suddenly obscured by the red shield. “Right on time.”

“And we’re close,” Creed said, coming to a stop. “Lots of contacts ahead. We need to do this carefully.”

“Thank you for the exceptional advice,” the Commander said with as much sarcasm as she’d heard. “Get on the outlying buildings, I need to take out the snipers first.” With that he jumped onto the nearest roof and fell to one knee, aiming his sniper rifle in the distance. “They’re spaced out. I can probably take them out without alerting the main group. A’Darrah, are you blocking their communications?”

 _“I am personally redirecting all outgoing communications to my location,”_ was the answer. _“They will be able to call for help, but no one but me will hear it. To do more would only raise suspicion.”_

“Good,” the Commander said. “I’ve located all the snipers. Firing.”

He fired four quick shots, his rifle moving surprisingly little with each shot. “Snipers down.” Nuan blinked. She’d _never_ seen anyone fire that fast or with such accuracy. Well, she assumed he’d hit everything.

“How did you do that?” She asked, even knowing it wasn’t the best time.

“Gene mods and natural sniping talents,” he said, pulling out the WHEEE. “I’d have never been able to do that without being enhanced. With practice I’m sure you could do the same thing.” He turned forward. “Alright, everyone on the roofs, we need to get a good idea of what we’re facing.”

Several minutes later Nuan found herself on the top of a two-story building that had once been a restaurant, overlooking the shield generator. This was one area the aliens had completely flattened and replaced. There was a wide square of nothing but asphalt and concrete, and in the center was the shield generator building. It looked surprisingly…utilitarian, which she supposed was normal for Andromedons.

The generator itself was housed in a cube structure, which curved into an arrow-like point where the antenna for the generator actually stuck out, and projected the shield. But the generator itself was _massive_ , and she could see why it needed an entire team to work it. The cube it was housed in was at least the size of the building she was currently hiding on. There weren’t any obvious weak points either. Every potentially exposed part of the antenna was covered by some kind of alloy plating, and there seemed to be another shield projected just under the roof so someone couldn’t just chuck a grenade inside.

“I wish we had a telepath,” Cole muttered. “This would make things much simpler.”

“Well, we don’t,” the Commander said. “But with four psions, I think we can manage this small army. Eddison, how quickly can you kill the Elites?”

“Snapped necks should do the trick,” he answered, looking down. At least the Elites were in the open, four directly guarding the door. “But I need to focus everything just for one. I can kill them all, but it’ll take time.”

“That’ll work,” the Commander affirmed with a nod. “Ellinor, I need you to protect us with a barricade. No Templar attacks yet. Pall, same thing, but I want you to hold everyone in place. How large an area can you cover?”

“Honestly as large as you need,” he said slowly. “The drawback is that I won’t be able to distinguish people in the field. One of you jumps down, you’ll be stuck too.”

“Perfect,” the Commander pointed to a group of clustered Andromedons and Lurainian. “Trap those. Once I take them out, attack how you see fit.”

“And what about the rest of us?” Nuan asked.

“You will fire from this position first,” the Commander began, brandishing the WHEEE. “Once I kill enough aliens, or this runs out of charges, you can come down to ground level. Focus on the Andromedons. The WHEEE should be enough to kill an Andromedon or two.”

“Ready when you are,” Creed nodded. “Pall, Eddison, Ellinor?”

“At your command,” Pall confirmed, as the psions gathered their power.

“Now!” The Commander ordered, and the soldiers rushed to the edges of the roof. Nuan quickly dropped a smoke grenade at their position, while Creed, Ricardo, Cole, and Rebecca began firing their weapons down at the exposed aliens. Several Lurainian were killed immediately, and even an Andromedon helmet shattered from the surprise attack.

“Stay where you are!” Pall shouted, likely more a way to focus than actually something he expected the enemy to follow. Both hands were held down, invisible waves emanating off of them as he appeared to be keeping something down. Eddison extended his hands and one of the Elites was yanked into the air. The Commander was surrounded by a personal shield and he jumped down and aimed the WHEEE at the first Andromedon he saw.

Nuan saw the flash of a lightning bolt and the Andromedon exploded into several different pieces. The Commander aimed at the next nearest Andromedon, and fired again, achieving the same result, and subsequently shocking the Lurainian next to it into unconsciousness or death. The first Elite was dead, and Eddison was moving on to the next.

Now the aliens were firing at them, and Ellinor responded by using her free hand to create another purple barrier; instead of it being directly in front of them, it was directly in front of the back alien line, allowing them to kill the ones close, but protecting them from fire from the Elites in the back, and the Andromedons coming to assist.

The Commander meanwhile was appearing to have fun with killing the practically helpless aliens in the face of the WHEEE. He was putting his own telekinetics to use, unbalancing the Lurainian and Andromedons trying to shoot him, and frying them with the WHEEE. Although ‘frying’ implied there was something left. Nuan saw the lightning bolt hit a Borelian and it was just _gone_ in a spray of golden mist and fur.

In the meantime, they were killing the disorganized aliens trying to find cover. Nuan shot the gun of an Andromedon, aiming at the seemingly exposed elerium core, which exploded and destroyed the helmet of the Andromedon as a result. A few well-placed gauss shots to the control panel killed the reactive AI.

“Elites are almost dead,” Eddison grunted, as the third Elite fell to the ground with the ornate helmet faced the opposite way. “And I want that gun.”

“Think we’ve got them now,” the Commander stated as he fried several more Andromedons clustered together; trapped in Pall’s telekinetic field. “Engage at will.”

“Copy that,” Pall stated, as he picked up his axe and literally leapt toward an Andromedon that was still alive. In the air he swung the blade down with enough force to bury the blade into the helmet of the Andromedon, and yank it out. It wasn’t shattered, but the crack was growing, and Nuan concentrated her own gauss fire on it, and ultimately shattering it and killing the Andromedon inside.

Ricardo and Cole also jumped down, and focused on cleaning up the few Lurainian who remained. But the lone Vitakara had little chance against augmented Humans. Nuan was continually amazed just how powerful XCOM was sometimes. Eddison was picking up aliens like toys, while the Commander made enemies explode with the WHEEE cannon.

They finally cleared out the majority of aliens, and the Commander gestured to the door, and telekinetically ripped it off its hinges and they charged inside. “Kill them all,” the Commander ordered. “We want this place destroyed.”

The two Templars entered first, and Nuan knew it was going to be a devastating bloodbath. The largely Vitakarian staff hardly put up a fight as Ellinor and Pall butchered them with their weapons. The Battlefield Engineers were helpless to do anything as the Commander killed one with the WHEEE cannon, and Eddison crushed the other like an action figure.

“We’re inside, how do we destroy this?” The Commander asked once the last alien was dead.

 _“Do you see the main control console?”_ A’Darrah asked. Nuan saw the largest computer that was attached to the circular base of the shield generator. _“You have two options. Shut it down manually, or destroy the generator. Destroying it can simply be accomplished by opening one of the panels exposing the interior, or making one yourself. Shutting it down requires the proper input commands, which are in my possession.”_

“Can you prevent anyone else from turning it back on?” The Commander asked. “I don’t want to destroy this if we don’t have to.”

_“Yes, that can be done.”_

“Then we do that,” the Commander walked to the console. “Walk me through shutting this down.”

At this point Nuan was fairly sure all of them were convinced these Andromedons were actually genuine. If they were planning to betray them, they would have done that already. It took a few minutes, but Nuan heard the shield generator power down, going from a steady whine and thrumming, to the sound of air coolers for the machines themselves.

“All done,” the Commander said. “Marshal Wilkins, We’ve disabled the shields. You are free to launch aerial and ground attacks on the city interior. We’re going after the leadership.”

 _“I think you just won this battle for us, Commander, I can’t thank you enough,”_ Wilkins said. _“I don’t know what happened with the shield the first time, but we need to thank whatever idiot engineer made that happen. Hell, I’d give them a pardon.”_

Creed snorted.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the Commander said, keeping the amusement in his voice to a minimum. “Good luck.”

 _“Amusing, but I don’t expect you to kill us,”_ V’Thrask said. _“If you want to extract us quietly, we need to meet up and be extracted quickly. A’Darrah is sending coordinates. When we meet, we will likely lose our current advantages and have to fight to the extraction point. I advise you have your pilot ready.”_

“Will do,” the Commander affirmed as the red line in Nuan’s HUD changed to where she assumed the Andromedons were. “We’re on our way.”

***

_Las Vegas Ruins, Nevada - United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 1:26 P.M._

The initial swing by the Battlemaster was unsurprisingly blocked, but that was intentional. He thrust down a free hand, sending a telekinetic shockwave that threw back the XCOM Templars closest to him, and immediately transitioned to block as the MEC swung the equally large sword in a swift dual strike.

The Battlemaster deflected one of the blows with his gauntlets and was briefly hit when the MEC bashed her shield against him several times, following up with a stab. Carmelita also leapt to him at the same time, and he attempted to take a step back, only to see that his foot was being telekinetically held in place by one of the Templars, even as Iosif and another Templar carrying a warhammer approached.

The strikes were ones he could take, and he let the MEC score a hit on his shoulder as he dropped his blade to his lower hand and stabbed at the exposed torso, while then telekinetically blowing the MEC back with his other free hands. Unfortunately the distraction allowed Carmelita to get an ineffective hit on him, but a mere alloy blade didn’t even scratch it.

He telekinetically grabbed Carmelita and tossed her towards Iosif, and the Templar beside him raised a hand and caught her, setting her down gently. The MEC was also recovered, having used some kind of built in jets to slow the throw, and the stab would he had inflicted had repaired itself. Smart, and not a good sign.

The other telekine psion had now joined the other Templar in effectively securing him in place, which he allowed for the moment so he could appraise the situation. He assumed that every soldier here was severely modified, and his sword wouldn’t be as effective. So he had to first deal with the telekines, and then the others.

He tossed his sword at the MEC, which impaled itself on the shield and cut right through it, though the damage was likely minimal. With his lower hands he sent out a telekinetic pulse that Iosif blocked with a shield. With his other two hands, grasped the two telekine Templars and pulled them toward his grasp.

No time to waste. Humans were far smaller than he was, and it made it extremely easy to snap their necks, which he did in quick succession and tossed the bodies away. Two down, five to go. The snipers he was not concerned with, as they had been firing already and done little more than glance off his armor. The MEC charged him again, and he recalled his greatsword to his hand to deflect the swing away from him.

All the XCOM soldiers were now shielded in purple fields; likely from the psion in the back. Iosif and another psion holding some kind of axe were closing on him from the sides, and Carmelita was charging forward with her sword the color of molten steel. That was a concern, but the MEC was not giving him any time to deal with it, as it fought like the machine it was.

The Battlemaster had never liked shields, and considered them a hindrance to his style of combat, and had rarely seen them be effective against him. But this MEC actually used the shield as a weapon of its own, not just for defense. Instead of turtling behind it, after each strike the shield was bashed against him, which while not hurting him, required him to focus on it.

Iosif was close enough to strike, and the Battlemaster kicked out at him, which the psion deflected with a shield, but did pause. At the same time the Battlemaster grabbed the shield, holding it in place while he slashed down at the axe-wielding psion, hitting him and sending him flying back several feet.

The Battlemaster pushed on the shield, twisting it to rip it off the MEC, while the attacks continued unabated. Iosif managed to score a hit on his lower leg, one he felt even if it didn’t cause damage. One telekinetic push back removed him temporarily. The MEC was still attacking with her own sword while he grappled with the shield, and he couldn’t stop every single attack coming his way.

Carmelita jumped from behind, and scored a hit on his arm, leaving a noticeable scrape. The other Templar he pushed away with a roar, sending him back with enough force to dent the alloy barricade he landed against. The MEC then unexpectedly let go of the shield, and he stumbled back briefly, but it was all the time it needed to raise its wrist and he was suddenly engulfed in a freezing mist.

His mind ran through the possibilities. Cold. Freezing agent. Dangerous. Without wasting another second, he dashed backwards, and jolted forward as he slammed into a psionic barricade the supporting psion in the back had created. “You’re getting stronger,” he told them approvingly, even as they approached again.

The purple barricade behind him suddenly had additional walls on its sides, which extended to where the MEC was; the machine was approaching and raising its wrist to likely freeze him. The suit could withstand freezing temperatures for a short time, but it would not be sustainable for long, and he ran the risk of being frozen even if he was technically alive.

But the foolish psion had unfortunately doomed the MEC in question. The jets on the MEC were already warm, and was likely expecting a telekinetic attack. But he acted instantly and charged forward; a purple blur directly towards the MEC, greatsword angled directly for her head. The shield might have saved her, but she was unable to stop the charge.

The pointed sword ripped through her head, and his direct collision threw her to the ground, sending the weapon flying. Standing over the defeated MEC, he ground his boot down into the wrecked head to make sure it was destroyed, then extended a hand towards the other psion who had helped him, and blew him backwards.

He spun around to see Carmelita approaching, and performed a precise telekinetic grab, calling the sword to his hand. With a flick of his wrist he threw it far into the city, then returned his attention to Iosif who was the lone Templar left. “You’ve fought better, Templar.”

Iosif didn’t respond, but charged forward and the Battlemaster met his mace swing with the greatsword. The Templar was more creative with his attacks now, creating barriers which sprang up under his arms, or just before his legs in an attempt to trip or distract him. It did work to an extent, and the Battlemaster was suitably impressed with his skills.

Unfortunate that it would be for nothing. He yanked Iosif down with a telekinetic grab, placed a foot on his chest and took a reverse grip of his sword to stab downwards. Not even his genetic modification would save him here. “Do it!” Iosif yelled.

The Battlemaster risked looking behind him to see Carmelita aiming a weapon he hadn’t seen before at him, and that was enough of a warning for him to begin dashing away. The weapon sparked and his arm was struck with a bolt of pure electricity. It had barely glanced him, but the pure shock of the weapon drove him to the ground, involuntarily twitching as he struggled to stand up.

The arm that had been glanced was numb, and he couldn’t move it at all. His vision was blurred and his senses were severely impaired. The suit could withstand brief electrical pulses, but he had _not_ designed it to withstand a pure _lightning bolt_. He thrust out with as much psionic power as he could muster towards Carmelita before she could fire that weapon again, and his blurry vision saw her go flying into the air.

On shaky legs, he debated retreating. At the rate he was recovering, if XCOM sent another team, he would be unlikely to emerge victorious. At the same time, there was only one more Templar, and…he glanced to the side to see the other psion was back up, the supporting defensive one. He took several breaths, and thought about it as rationally as he could.

Two on one. The odds were in his favor, especially since neither were armed with those electricity guns. Defense psions were also something he could handle easily. He wouldn’t retreat, not yet. The one arm hanging limply at his side, he marched toward Iosif to kill the Templar once and for all.

***

_Seattle, Washington – United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 3:19 P.M._

The Commander was mildly surprised to be reminded that the Space Needle had survived the attacks so far. Ironically, it was now the highest building in the city, so he wasn’t entirely surprised that the Collective had apparently turned it into their main command center. It had taken some hits, and the top platform was missing some sections, but otherwise it was largely intact.

“Big Sky, do you have the coordinates for extraction?” The Commander asked as they marched to the Space Needle.

 _“Affirmative,”_ he answered. _“But if we’re flying Andromedons back, we’re probably going to need another.”_

“Good thing we planned for an extra,” the Commander muttered. “Have Shattered Sky head over. We’re not going to leave right away once the Andromedons are extracted anyway.”

_“Copy, good luck, Commander.”_

“Enemies ahead,” Creed pointed forward. The Commander looked forward and saw the Space Needle defenses were smaller than he was expecting. It was likely that all of them were trying to fight off ADVENT penetrating deeper into the city, and because V’Thrask had ordered them away.

“Two dozen Mutons and six Elites?” Eddison snorted. “They really are running low.”

“I’d thank our Andromedon friend,” Nuan cautioned. “And I’m not getting cocky yet.”

“Listen to Nuan,” the Commander agreed, slowing down and letting the Templars take point. “The Elites are still a threat. Eddison, I presume you can take them out?”

“I can do a few more,” he agreed confidently. “Assuming the rest of you can handle the Mutons?”

“Permission to engage?” Creed asked, raising his rifle.

The Commander raised his own sniper rifle; electing to not use the WHEEE and let it recharge. One shot, and a Muton fell dead. “Permission granted. Pick your targets!”

The Muton reaction was immediate, and they gave their battle cries and fell behind their alloy barricades. The Commander also noticed that they activated several turrets on the ground he hadn’t seen earlier. They rose from the ground, and began shooting plasma bolts their direction. “Find cover!” He ordered, leaping forward to a building corner and beginning to take aim at the first turret.

Ellinor and Pall were not hindered by the turrets, and were quite easily slaughtering the unhelmeted Mutons. Ellinor buried the axe head deep into the skull of one, while Pall had his greatsword set to the high-friction mode and was slicing through the Muton armor with surprisingly little effort.

Creed and Rebecca killed one each, while Cole and Nuan concentrated on one of the turrets, causing it to explode. The Commander aimed for the barrel of another, and fired, destroying the firing mechanism. It still tried to fire, and subsequently exploded as a result. Eddison had both Mutons raised into the air, hand clenched in a fist as he brandished it in the air.

The Elites were squirming in the air, their plasma cannons lying on the ground, which the Commander assumed was the result of Eddison removing them himself. The psionic power seemed concentrated around their throats. Choking them. He approved of the tactic. One of the worse ways to go out, and he didn’t exactly feel bad the Elites were succumbing to it.

The basic Muton soldiers were essentially wiped out within a few minutes, with XCOM advancing rapidly forward, as the remaining turrets had to split between the ranged soldiers, and the Templars decimating their nearby forces. But soon the last turret and Muton died, with several XCOM soldiers putting gauss slugs into the heads of the Elites just to be sure they were dead.

“The outside is clear,” the Commander said. “We’ll wait here.”

“Commander…” Creed pointed inside the Space Needle lobby. “I think they’re already here.”

All the XCOM soldiers raised their weapons, and the psions subsequently lifting their weapons in warning or hands shimmering faintly with psionic energy. The Andromedons weren’t hidden, but the Commander was continuously reminded of how much larger they were than regular Humans, at least in their suits. The smallest ones, the Battlefield Engineers, were eight feet, and the Soldiers were close to nine, with the proportions to match.

Needless to say they towered over the Humans the closer they got. The Commander counted. Two, four, seven…eight. Eight Andromedons were coming, four having the red tint of Battlefield Engineers, with the accompanying drones. Three appeared to be standard soldiers, armed, even though their weapons weren’t raised. The final Andromedon had the same suit as the Soldiers, but there were odd shapes plastered to his helmet, symbols of some kind. It might be a language, or it could simply be a combination of shapes only Andromedons knew. It was very angular and symmetrical. Very Andromedon.

They exited the doors, and stood in front of the XCOM soldiers; two warring species placed in a very unexpected situation. The Commander didn’t have his weapon up, nor did the Andromedon who he assumed was V’Thrask. “Commander,” V’Thrask greeted, or at least acknowledged. “Arrival within expected time. Good. If there is anything that needs to be discussed, we should do it now. Your soldiers do not seem trusting.”

“No offense intended,” Creed said. “We’re just being careful.”

“You systematically destroyed defenses that were more numerous and larger than your own,” V’Thrask said evenly. “We are currently not equipped to handle psionic forces. Attacking you would be ineffective and suicidal. Aside from that, we do not intend to fight you today.”

The Commander was trying to get a sense of the Andromedons while he spoke, and he knew Ellinor, Pall, and Eddison were doing the same thing. He didn’t sense any dishonesty, even if Andromedons seemed colder than most Humans, or even aliens. But he didn’t seem to be lying. “Think he’s good,” Ellinor said. “I assume you shut off the Gateways?”

“Gateways and outgoing communications have been sabotaged and severed,” V’Thrask explained. “As of six minutes ago, the Ethereal Collective lost contact with this position. It will not be reestablished in time before ADVENT claims this city.”

“We have an extraction planned,” the Commander said, eyeing the weapons they held. “I assume we’ll be fighting at some point before we get there, but once we arrive, you will surrender your weapons.”

“Fine.” V’Thrask surprisingly said. “We are wasting time here. Let us move to the extraction point.”

That decided, the mix of Andromedon and Human soldiers began jogging towards the designated points on their HUDs. The XCOM soldiers were still not taking chances, and Eddison along with Cole were hanging behind the main body of Andromedons, with the two Templars up front by him and V’Thrask.

“Four contacts approaching,” a Battlefield Engineer he assumed was A’Darrah said, looking down at a haptic display on his wrist. “Likelihood of a Muton unit is high.”

“Weapons up and forward,” V’Thrask ordered, and the Commander let the Andromedon soldiers take the lead in a straight line, V’Thrask in the middle. Sure enough, a unit of Mutons marched directly in front of them. Seeing Andromedons, they didn’t pay them any mind. The Andromedons raised their rifles and fired plasma beams that killed the Mutons almost simultaneously.

“Hold formation and advance,” V’Thrask stated, now consulting his own wrist haptic pad. “No immediate contacts.”

“Initiating drone scouting,” A’Darrah said, the drone hovering over him flying off into the air, joined by the drones of the other Battlefield Engineers.

The rest of the way they didn’t encounter any large armies or concentrations of aliens. Several more Muton units were encountered, but they were killed within seconds of contact. The Andromedons had no hesitation killing those who had been their allies, and seemed suitably unaffected by their defection. Maybe they were always like this, but it seemed to be treated as completely normal.

An explosion rocked the ground, and the Commander saw one of the buildings collapse as a result of shelling fire from ADVENT. The air battle was just as intense as ever, but all the Firestorms were still operational, and ADVENT was also holding their own. On the torn streets, he finally saw the landed skyranger.

“It’s going to be a tight fit,” he warned. “Skyrangers weren’t made for Andromedons.”

“We will manage,” was all V’Thrask said.

To his mild surprise, there wasn’t a last-second ambush and the area seemed completely secure, or as much as it could be. The drones returned to the Battlefield Engineers, and the Commander turned to V’Thrask. “Load up, and the skyranger will take you to our base. Drop your weapons here, and your drones. They will be returned if you are officially cleared by us.”

“Very well,” V’Thrask set his own plasma rifle down beside the ramp. “I expect you to hold to that promise.”

Well, it was certainly nice that the Andromedons were being so compliant. He hadn’t quite expected that from them. It was refreshing. The Battlefield Engineers even powered down their drones without complaint, and walked up the ramp. It was definitely a tight fit, with all the aliens standing, but it would work.

“We will speak when you return,” V’Thrask, moving his suit in a crude imitation of a nod. “I expect there is much you wish to ask.”

“To put it mildly,” he answered dryly. “Big Sky, they’re all loaded up. Be sure and let Jackson know what to expect.”

 _“Will do,”_ he said as the ramp was raised. _“Aegis is going to love this_.”

The skyranger lifted off, and shot off into the air, carrying what might have been the reason for their victory. “So what now?” Creed asked.

“We take Seattle back and kill whatever aliens remain here,” the Commander said, turning to them. “But they can’t recover from this. We’ve won here. All that remains is cleaning up.”

Several soldiers cheered at that, and with a smile on his face, the Commander led them back into the city to go hunting.

***

_Las Vegas Ruins, Nevada - United States of America_

_11/6/2016 – 2:42 P.M._

Things had seemed to be going exceptionally well, and for the most part they were. In fact, Oliver was not going to get the image of what Viktoria had performed out of his mind for a long time, if ever, and he knew the aliens wouldn’t forget either. While some people would be content with simply killing the aliens sniping from the hotels, Viktoria had decided the best course of action was to completely destroy it.

Oliver hadn’t had any idea that it was possible for a psionic maelstrom of that size to even be created, and ADVENT and even XCOM had watched in stunned amazement as the Archangel single-handedly brought down a hotel, literally ripping it in half with her psionic power. As they advanced, he’d also noticed extremely odd things that he wouldn’t have expected anywhere else.

They had begun finding Vitakara corpses strewn throughout the city, but all of them had either committed suicide, or…he hated to use the word, but almost ritually killed. No other explanation made much sense, or to clarify, _more_ sense than a bizarre ritual. At least that’s what ADVENT probably thought.

It was unnerving, especially since some of the positions the aliens were in were downright bizarre. Finding four Vitakarians dead around a fully cooked meal, others with plasma pistols in their mouths, and some of the corpses were smiling when found. The only plausible explanation besides a bizarre ritual was that Patricia had done this and…that didn’t seem like it was a good thing.

He wanted the aliens dead and gone as much as everyone else, but this went to a level beyond what he thought was acceptable. Seeing some of the corpses, and those of other aliens…that was horrific and cruel for the sake of it. Killing aliens was one thing, even mind controlled suicide he could accept. But it seemed abundantly clear that she’d been doing far more than just ordering them to kill themselves. There was an air of experimentation and flair that wouldn’t have been present otherwise.

That bothered him. A lot.

More so because he didn’t know if there was a way of telling her _“Hey, what you’re doing is kind of fucked up”_ without making her angry. Well, that was a problem he would deal with later. Right now all of them were rushing towards where the Battlemaster was currently at, thanks to the triggering of the distress signal from Iosif.

That meant things were going badly.

However, they were fairly close, and after commandeering several Humvees, they were speeding towards the location of the duel. “There they are, dead ahead.” Cassandra said, looking through her scope. “Yeah, it’s bad. Only two are left. Iosif and Said I think.”

“Weapons out and prepare to deploy!” Blake ordered. “Nuclear contingency is happening. I’ve sent the command, and we have to hope it works. _Keep him distracted_.”

Their Humvee driver slid into a stop, and the XCOM soldiers deployed, where Iosif was still attempting to duel the Battlemaster. Iosif was clearly exhausted, and Said was doing everything he could to deflect the swings of the Battlemaster, who, Oliver noted, also seemed injured. He seemed slower, and one of his arms was hanging limply.

The suddenly hail of gauss fire caught his attention, and he extended a hand out to them, and Fakhr and Blake were lifted into the air, and unceremoniously slammed into the nearby building. A roar from Iosif brought his attention back to the Templar, who managed to score a direct hit on the knee of the Battlemaster, actually making him stumble. The Battlemaster slashed upwards, the flat of his blade hitting just under his chin and sent him flying, carving off part of the helmet itself.

A roar of anger came from Mona as she unleashed a psionic lance at the Battlemaster who dashed back, missing the bolt completely. He faced the XCOM soldiers briefly, though Oliver didn’t know what he was waiting for, and only held out one hand. Within seconds the gauss slugs being fired filled up the telekinetic field he was projecting.

“Your Commander is willing to kill you to stop me?” He called, with a disbelieving tone. “Are you willing to die for… _this_?”

Oliver grinned under his helmet. He’d taken the bait. “If we die,” Iosif yelled, stumbling forward, helmet discarded as he raised his mace in another salute. “You die with us.”

Said created four shields, trapping the Battlemaster in a shimmering cage. A gesture sent him flying back, but it provided enough time for Iosif to charge once more to command his attention once more. “Your persistence is admirable,” the Battlemaster growled as he beat back the tired Templar, disarming him with a twirl of his blade and sending him back with a telekinetic blast. “But I do not intend to die today.” He looked toward all of them. “Your victory will ring hollow.”

With that he leapt up into the air and the whine of the Overseer UFO sounded overhead, an opening appeared underneath it which the Battlemaster entered, and closed underneath him. And just like that, it sped off into the bright afternoon sky. Mona spoke for all of them. “It worked.”

“We better hope he doesn’t come back,” Oliver said, rushing to where Iosif was laying on the ground. “At least we got here before anyone else died.”

“Not quite as bad as you think,” Iosif groaned, as Blake had also gotten up and was immediately checking on him. “Carmelita and Hugo are alive, just unconscious. He also thought he got Sung, but he just disabled the main processor. Get her out of the suit.”

Oliver glanced over to the beheaded Shinobi, rather glad that the pilot’s head hadn’t _actually_ been taken off in the fight. Better to be trapped temporarily than dead. “We’ll get her out,” Blake said. “But we need to get medical attention to everyone here. Looks like you gave him some trouble.”

“Forget these weapons,” Iosif grimaced. “We just need to have WHEEE cannons. I think that almost killed him. Fuck, we had our shot and missed it. He’ll just come back, and he _knows_ now.”

“Hey, you’re the reason we’re going to win this today,” Oliver told him. “ADVENT is destroying the aliens now. They’re going to lose, and the Battlemaster could have rendered that pointless. You bought time, and that’s all we needed.”

“Hopefully,” Iosif said, looking a little better now that he had been given some water. “I’m guessing it’s not over yet?”

“Nope,” Mona said, walking over. “But it will be soon. There are still more aliens to kill.”

“In that case,” Iosif said, gripping his mace again and giving a weary smile. “Let’s get to work.”

***

_The Cultro, Earth Orbit_

_11/6/2016 – 3:02 P.M_

The Battlemaster waited for something to happen. But as the minutes ticked by, he came to the ugly realization that he’d been tricked. ADVENT had somehow been able to fake a nuclear signature aimed for the city, and he’d subsequently been tricked into retreating. He couldn’t survive a nuclear blast; he knew that, and ADVENT and XCOM knew that as well.

If it were anyone else, he would have recognized it as a trick. But the Commander was the kind of opponent that would actually go through with such a threat. If he thought he could be stopped with a nuclear blast, the Battlemaster knew that the Commander would go through with it even if it cost him thousands of his own kind.

So a conundrum. He couldn’t take chances as a result.

“Order a retreat,” he told the CODEX. “Activate the Gateways and achieve it without delay.”

He had considered flying back down there, but he felt it would be the wrong thing to do. He’d been bested here, as had the majority of his forces. The Humans had earned their victory, and prolonging it would be a pointless waste on both sides, and there were clear flaws evident in his strategy that had been made extremely evident to him.

He had underestimated the Humans today, and as a result the Collective had lost ground. Checking up on the status of the other attacked cities was not pleasant. The bases around Portland had fallen, which had not come as a surprise, but Seattle also falling was unexpected and _bad_. What was more concerning was that communication had been remotely severed not long ago, which indicated that V’Thrask was either dead or captured.

He was more puzzled as to how that could happen without some kind of additional information. But right now he didn’t have any idea how Seattle had fallen, and that was almost more concerning than his defeat against XCOM. Something that he’d have Ravarian investigate immediately. But for now, he needed to reassess the situation.

The good news was that ADVENT and XCOM had revealed their hands today. He now knew exactly what they currently had, and already he had ideas on how to counter it. They had had the element of surprise here, and that had let them retake three major areas, and nearly kill him, but they would not be able to replicate that so easily again.

The situation was far from ideal, but this was not a large setback. It would, however, give the Humans a morale boost and further establish ADVENT as the primary power of Earth. The political ramifications were not his concern, and they didn’t matter in the scope of the war, but he knew Ravarian and Quisilia would be following the aftermath with great interest.

Today had been a wakeup call, and one he would not let happen again. It was a rule drilled into the Battlemasters from the beginning: _“Underestimation is arrogance; Pride is failure; Apathy is death”_

Even he, it seemed, was not immune much as he tried. He had underestimated what they were capable of, as well as believed his own forces were enough to fight back, and had waited well beyond what he should have to actually do something. The resource and unit costs would be enormous, and he would bear the brunt of that.

There would be retribution.

But today was not that day.

The Humans had won the battle; they deserved to enjoy it while it lasted.


	25. Asaru

 

_The Praesidium, Patricia’s Quarters – Classified Location_

_11/7/2016 – 2:30 A.M._

Patricia sat on the edge of her bed in the darkness, which thanks to her enhanced eyesight, turned everything a faint shade of white, illuminating the room with near perfection. Times like this she wished it was like a switch she could turn off because she really would prefer everything to just be dark around her.

Really, she should have been sleeping now. The mood in XCOM was better than it had been in a long time not only due to the resounding victory, but also bringing back eight Andromedon defectors. That was something the Commander had said would be handled the following day, and encouraged everyone to get some well-earned rest, and the Andromedons had been put in the stasis cells for the night.

Certainly an interesting development, and she was intrigued as to what they would have to say to explain what exactly motivated them to do this, but she’d been too unsettled and disturbed with herself to really take a lot of pleasure in the victory. Reading the reports about what both XCOM and ADVENT teams had found, which ADVENT had trouble explaining, put into perspective just how far she had gone.

Even the Commander had a point he wasn’t comfortable with. He’d told her quite plainly that while he didn’t have issues with the mass suicide, she should attempt to keep her kills quick and clean. Prolonging pain for the sake of it was both unprofessional and sadistic, words that hurt all the more so since she had strived to _not_ be that.

She didn’t know what had brought that on. At some point she’d stopped thinking in terms of beings, alien or no, and simply considered them…pawns. Pawns were puppets, tools to be used, experimented on, and discarded. It was a perspective she’d never been able to understand, at least before now.

The problem now was that she _did_ understand it, and instead of violently dismissing it she was actually _thinking_ about why exactly something like that had wormed its way into her mindset. This was not something spontaneous, but the culmination of her continuous training and growing skill in telepathy.

She didn’t necessarily have a problem with viewing aliens as tools. Some were more than that, like Aegis, but they were ultimately the enemy. The Commander had a point that she shouldn’t prolong the deaths, but what worried her was that she didn’t exactly feel guilty for doing it in the first place. She’d stopped because she knew she “shouldn’t be doing this”, but it wasn’t because she felt that it was _wrong_.

That worried her. Not because she cared for aliens, but because she _knew_ that was a slippery slope down until she was thinking the same thing about people. Or worse, she’d already passed that point long ago.

No…not yet. Subduing Pakistan had been done, if not harmlessly, at least efficiently. No experimentation there. So she hadn’t quite passed the point of no return. But at some point, she feared that she might, and worse, not see anything wrong with it.

A telepathic flicker beside her, and Creed breathed heavily as she heard him wake up. She mentally sighed; he’d known something was bothering her, but assumed she was just tired. He didn’t know what had happened, and she wasn’t quite sure if, or even how to tell him. But that wasn’t fair to him, especially when he didn’t have the luxury of hiding stuff from her, even if it wasn’t necessarily something that he needed to know.

“I’d have thought you would be exhausted,” he yawned, sitting up and scooting over to the edge of the bed, swinging his feet over and putting an arm around her. “What’s going on?”

She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Can’t sleep. And…just thinking.”

“Don’t be vague. About what?”

She hesitated. “You read any of the reports from Las Vegas?”

Patricia only sensed some confusion. “I didn’t read reports, no, but I do know you took out pretty much the entire alien force by yourself until the Gatekeeper showed up. I’d say you did good.”

“That isn’t the problem.” She rubbed her forehead. “I did do that…but I also did…other things. I decided to experiment; test just how far I could push things. I made all the aliens puppets and made them torture, mutilate, and kill themselves just to see if I could keep their reactions under control…” She trailed off. “The autopsy reports don’t exactly paint a pretty picture.”

She felt his immediate surprise and shock at her admission, though nothing physical. “You said you go into trance-like states sometimes,” he said after a minute or so. “Was this one of them? You didn’t know really what you were doing until a certain point? You haven’t done anything like this before as far as I know.”

“It’s not that simple, or really an excuse,” she muttered. “I knew what I was doing, but it didn’t really bother me because…well, they weren’t really worth caring about. They were aliens. Pawns. They were going to die, so I thought I might as well get some worth out of them. They weren’t thinking beings to me, just experiments.”

She was silent for a minute. “I don’t really even remember what made me stop. Maybe I’d commanded one alien to kill his mate in some horrific way, maybe something worse, but I _knew_ what I was doing was wrong. So I stopped. I think the Gatekeeper showed up soon after that. Not that it made much of a difference. All the Vitakara were wrecks and the ones with their sanity intact killed themselves as a result.”

Patricia’s shoulders slumped. “Effective, I guess. But I shouldn’t have felt the need to go that far, much less _actually_ done it.”

“But you _did_ stop,” Creed pointed out. “And you realized you went too far. What are you really worried about? If you were too far gone, you wouldn’t even be this conflicted.”

Patricia closed her eyes. “Because even though I know it is wrong, I’m not sure it actually _was_.”

Now Creed felt actually concerned about her, and moved her to sit cross-legged on the bed, both of them facing each other. “I think you should explain that,” he said neutrally, taking her hands.

Right. She really had to. “Because it worked,” she said simply. “I know better what I can do. My telepathy is more refined. Vitakara minds,” she took a breath. “Well, I think I’ve figured out most of them. Even Andromedons aren’t as much of a mystery. I don’t know…” She trailed off. “But they’re the enemy. We kill the enemy, or capture if we really need to. I don’t feel _guilty_ about doing that to them. I know I should, but I _don’t_ , and I don’t know if something is wrong with me or not.”

She briefly let go of one of his hands, gesturing around them. “That’s what we do here. We’ve defined ourselves by going past a lot of established lines in the name of protecting us, and honestly that is probably the reason we’re still alive. Is this _actually_ a line that shouldn’t be crossed, or am I just scared because I know just what I can do?”

Creed looked down at her gently. “Do you remember when you told me that one of the things that terrified you was abusing your power? Is that still true?”

“I remember,” she said quietly. “And I want it to be.”

“Alright,” he shifted closer. “So why can’t it be?”

She shrugged. “Can I go back after this? I’ve already broken that rule I had.”

“And what makes you have to break it again?” He questioned.

She considered that. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“You can be powerful without resorting to what an Ethereal would do to us,” he told her softly. “You’re better than that, and I still believe it, even if I can’t read your mind. You wanted to improve what you can do, but I think what probably separates powerful psions is knowing just what they need to do. You can control yourself, Patricia.”

He was right on that point. Just because she did this once, didn’t mean she was gone forever. “You’re right,” she said with a nod. “I made a mistake. I don’t have to repeat it.”

“Exactly,” he smiled. “Now I think you should at least try to sleep-ah” He was cut off as she leaned up and kissed him, and they stayed like that for a few moments. “Or,” he breathed once she broke it off. “We could do something else.”

***

_Unknown_

_Unknown Time_

“You have a lot of fucking nerve,” Patricia growled to the nondescript Human sitting in the middle of a flat horizonless room, in front of a table with a chair opposite it. “I suppose you just like watching, hmm?”

“I have little interest in your activities with your mate,” the Imperator said nonchalantly, his facial expression not changing at all. “I was simply awaiting the opportune moment, and I thought you would prefer to have this conversation where no one else could hear. You spontaneous plans had little to do with it.”

Patricia rolled her eyes, realizing she was in her armor. “How very, _very_ thoughtful.” Nevertheless, she stormed over to the chair and sat down opposite him. “And just so you know, we crushed your little army and sent your Battlemaster running. Good luck trying to gloat this time.”

“Because I am certainly prone to such gloating,” he said, actually attempting to be _sarcastic_. How cute. “I have little interest in your victories, and a loss will only make the Battlemaster stronger. The notion that you achieved anything other than a temporary victory is a delusion, but one I do not blame you for partaking in.”

“Spare me,” Patricia ground out, glaring at the Human form the Imperator assumed. “Somehow, I don’t feel inclined to believe you right now. There’s only so many times you can say we have no chance before it becomes meaningless.”

“Your belief is irrelevant,” the Imperator said. “I was simply stating that your assumed reasons for me speaking with you were misconceptions. Your little Archangels, MECs, Templars; none of that has attracted my attention, but you, on the other hand, managed to get mine. I did not think we would speak so soon, but your performance at Las Vegas was exceptional.”

Patricia’s lips pursed. “I’m not going to apologize, but it will be quicker next time.”

“Amusing, that you think I care how many aliens die,” the Imperator said with a humorless smile. “They can be replaced, and I do not trouble myself with them. But I can sense that you are conflicted about your actions.”

“And I’m not comfortable sharing that with you.” Patricia said flatly. “You are the last one I’d speak to.”

“Psion Trask,” the smile became knowing. “Do you really believe this is the first time a telepath of exceptional power has felt as you do? The realization of power you experienced? The _euphoria_ of control over so many minds?” He clasped his hands together. “You are likely asking yourself many things. Questions of morality, or life, of lines crossed or left alone. This is natural. It is normal. It is what all psions, but especially telepaths, go through at some point in their lives. It was only a matter of time before you reached yours.”

Patricia blinked. That shouldn’t be a surprise…but then again, she’d never heard Aegis or anyone else mention it. However, this was the _Imperator_ \- “Go ahead and sense if I am lying,” he said knowingly. “I have no reason to lie to you here.”

Still suspicious, she tentatively examined the projection of the Imperator. She couldn’t even begin to penetrate it, but he didn’t seem to be lying. “Did Aegis know?” She asked.

“Highly unlikely,” the Imperator answered. “Aegis, as much as you believe he is a telepath, it is not his specialty. He may be able to break into your mind, but he would never be able to do what you have done. He was designed to be an Aegis, and an Aegis he will forever be. If he had known, he would have prepared you better.”

Patricia leaned back. She wasn’t quite sure what to do now. “Let me guess,” she said. “You went through the same thing.”

“Yes, but not quite like you did,” he nodded. “The thrall species of the Synthesized were attacking one of our bases. There were four Ethereals left, and we were being hunted by them. I had recently been awakened, and taken command. I knew what I was capable of, or at least I thought I did, and at one point I decided not to run, and I alone destroyed the pathetic thrall aliens that had come to kill us.”

She suspected this was more impressive than it sounded. “And how many? A few thousand?”

“Four million descended upon the planet,” the Imperator said. “All were defeated. There were no Director Flagships to command my attention. Not strictly telepathic, but I did reach an important realization, one which the Overmind assisted in.”

Despite herself, Patricia was curious. “And what was that?”

“That holding back would accomplish nothing,” he answered, standing up. “Too many beings believe that all species are equal, or that everything deserves as much consideration as the other. But you and I both know that isn’t true. _You_ learned that when you dominated the Vitakara like the puppets they are. _You_ exposed the aliens for their weak minds then forced them to perform horrific acts. _You_ know what they are, Psion Trask, but you do not want to say the words.”

The Imperator’s appearance was changing as he spoke, the skin was becoming lighter and the eyes turning purple. “They are _inferior_ ,” he hissed softly. “There is no shame in stating facts you proved. You should not be ashamed to recognize yourself as _better_ out of a misplaced empathy.” The chalk-like humanoid sat back down, lips curled back in an unsettling smile.

“Do you wonder why I do not take an interest in the Collective as those such as the Battlemaster do?”

Patricia was not liking just how accurate the Imperator was sounding right now. “I assumed it was because you’re lazy.”

“Amusing,” he said. “No. Because I do not need to. Their interests and goals are irrelevant. The species as they are now are merely setpieces until the real work begins. They are pointless and incomplete. Their purpose is none for me. Do you really think the Vitakara actually have a place in my plans?”

“Yes,” Patricia said. “Otherwise you would not have wasted time on them.”

“Mhmm,” the Imperator looked around the white emptiness. “I presume Aegis revealed some of what Revelean and Fectorian are working on? Perhaps I should have clarified that the _modern_ Vitakara have no place. These species are tools, Psion Trask; ones which can be enhanced or discarded at will. If they cannot stand up to a single-planet species such as yours, explain to me why I should care about them?”

Well, she actually had an answer to that. “Because it’s wasteful otherwise. Doing nothing serves no purpose beyond some bizarre god complex.”

“Good,” he nodded. “An acceptable answer I feel. But returning to the previous point, why exactly are you afraid of accepting that you are indeed superior to those around you? Ignore your societal pressures and customs and explain.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

“I would not be speaking if it were otherwise.”

“Fine,” she grunted. “Because I still want to care. About people. About things. You might laugh, but I don’t want to lose my humanity. What I fight for. What I did.” She gestured around. “I didn’t care. I acted out of curiosity, out of a desire to be more powerful, skilled, whatever. But I didn’t care about those I dominated. They were just a means to an end.”

“Did you accomplish what you desired?” The Imperator asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you regret what you did?”

“No. I wish I did.”

“Then why are you still _afraid_?”

“Because soon that will spread to things I actually care about,” she admitted. “I don’t want to look at Creed and feel nothing. I don’t want the soldiers around me to become little pawns I control like a chess game. I don’t want this war to just become my quest to become more powerful. _That_ is what I am afraid of.”

She exhaled loudly. “And I’m telling this to who is probably my greatest enemy. Wonderful.”

“If it is any consolation, I do not consider you an enemy,” the Imperator offered. “Consider me an observer if you wish.”

“Really,” Patricia said dryly. “I’m working to burn your little empire to the ground. At least grant me the courtesy of recognizing me as one.”

“I will, once you explain how your actions make me your enemy,” the Imperator said. “At worst you’ve killed a decrepit member of my species and killed a small amount of my armies. You have yet to threaten me personally. And enemies generally do not converse with each other.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Patricia pointed out.

“I haven’t kept you here,” he smiled. “You can sever the connection at any time.”

She glared at him, but silently conceded the point. “Let me ask you a question,” the Imperator said. “ _Why_ did you wish to become more skilled?”

“To make it easier to kill aliens, and you,” she answered honestly.

“So,” he sat back. “You weren’t acting out of pure selfishness. You had reason to experiment and grow more proficient.” His eyes bored into hers. “I assure you, Patricia, only the truly weak and unstable lose what drives them after experiencing what you have. You are neither. You simply just need to understand what is happening, and how to utilize it.”

“Fine, I’ll bite.”

“Never forget what your ultimate goal is,” the Imperator said. “Be it destroying the Collective, or even me. Grow your power in pursuit of this goal. Do not avoid your realization of the inferior, _use_ it to your advantage. You need not abandon your connections to your lover or friends, after all, a victory with nothing left is simply hollow.”

He shook his head. “There are many theories as to what shapes people, and to an extent all are true. Love. Fear. Pain. But none reveal the nature of a person like _power_. The Human saying ‘Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely’ is not entirely incorrect, though corrupt has a negative connotation. Power _changes_ , and absolute power _changes_ absolutely. It does not sound as good, but it is nonetheless more accurate.”

He motioned to her. “You are, and _will_ change, Patricia Trask. You can fight it, but you will no longer be the same woman you were even before this realization. You cannot reverse what has happened, but you _can_ determine the person you will be. You could fight this, cut yourself off, _restrict_ yourself, and ultimately, you would change yourself for the worse, or simply become what you currently fear.”

He leaned forward. “Or you could embrace what you are. _Use_ your gift on your enemies with no remorse, and you will accomplish your goals. Anchor yourself in your goals and relationships, and you will be a terrifying and unstoppable force. But, Patricia Trask, only you can decide what to do.”

Silence stretched between them. “Why are you telling me this?” Patricia asked.

“Because I am not interested in the weak,” the Imperator stated, his voice growing noticeably colder. “The Battlemaster is right to challenge your world as he is. If our Collective loses, then so be it. If I die, then I failed. But if you are to win, then I will ensure that you will carry on our mission and crush the puppeteers that control this galaxy. I have no qualms about gifting you knowledge, especially in the art of the Gift. Use it. Or do not. But there is little worth in beating an unskilled opponent.”

He stood, smiling. “With that said, I think perhaps I should demonstrate just how outmatched you are.” Patricia found herself standing, and they were no longer in an endless room, but standing in the vast expanse of space.

Patricia didn’t have any smart comments here, this entire conversation was nothing short of unnerving and was definitely affecting her in ways she was _not_ comfortable with. “Go ahead.”

He motioned down, and the Earth was beneath them, rotating so slowly as to be imperceptible. “So many people on your planet, and aliens as well,” the Imperator mused, and extended one hand toward it. The air around them shimmered, as screen-like squares made themselves apparent. Much like a screen it showed people inside them.

Civilians, soldiers, aliens, people she knew. Chancellor Vyandar talking with some military leader, the Commander and Vahlen sleeping, Abby walking through a desert of some kind. There were still more; Chinese generals looking over some kind of map, a Sargon speaking to some Andromedons, and even more, until they filled up the area around her.

“We cannot control time,” the Imperator said. “But perhaps we can affect it.”

He lowered a hand and everyone in the psionic screens froze. Mid-motion, mid-speech, just froze. She could still see them breathing, but they were just doing…nothing. Then all the heads turned to her direction, eyes sightlessly staring forward towards her.

“Perhaps this will illustrate the ineffectiveness of your armies,” the Imperator said. “This is no illusion, Psion Trask. All those you see are indeed appearing to look at you. They do not know why they feel compelled to look that way, but they do. If you do not believe me, well, there are plenty of security recordings available.”

Everything vanished and they were in the middle of a starry blackness. “Think on what I said,” the Imperator told her. “I suspect we will speak again. Sleep, Psion Trask.”

And the figure of the Imperator vanished, and Patricia fell into a deep sleep.

***

_The Praesidium, Outside Stasis Cells – Classified Location_

_11/7/2016 – 1:24 P.M._

Normally, he would be extremely happy on a day like today. There were the Andromedons to debrief, and he had some meetings with ADVENT to figure out where best to go from here. However, Patricia explaining that little stunt the Imperator had pulled had put a damper on the whole day. It was unfortunately true, even if it was only for a few seconds.

Since Patricia hadn’t added anything else to that, he assumed that had been the entire point of the Imperator showing up in her mind again, just to childishly taunt her. Still, this was extremely disturbing and they needed some means of anti-telepathy _fast_. Vahlen was already drawing up some ideas, but the best case scenario here was a couple months at least.

He glanced over at the tired face of Patricia. She did not look like she’d slept well, and considering both the day before, and the Imperator, he could understand that. Maybe he should give her a break and figure things out for a short time, perhaps a week. She wasn’t the only psion anymore, and Las Vegas had been a warning sign that something needed to be done.

The Commander was more concerned about the Imperator contacting her _again_. Even it was only to intimidate her, he was doing this for a reason, and he didn’t know what exactly to do to stop it. There had to be something more to this than him just appearing and talking to Patricia, but then again, she reported that he had never once seemed threatened by her or Humanity for that matter.

Maybe he was just bored.

Could a being like the Imperator just do things for fun?

Aegis had openly warned Patricia that the Imperator was leading her to some specific realization, and Patricia had agreed, although she said that the most he’d done was just talk to her. And not once had he tried to turn her against them, or even offer for her to join. It was, as she had put it, “Strange”.

On that everyone agreed.

But now they needed to determine what V’Thrask and his Andromedons were actually doing here, and that would hopefully be settled fairly soon. The Commander waved his hand over the psionic sensor, and the shield shimmered and faded, and he, Patricia, Aegis, and Zhang stepped into the cell where V’Thrask was standing.

The suit had the acid launchers and tanks removed, but it had done very little to make the suit smaller. “An Ethereal,” V’Thrask stated, the most emotion he’d heard from the alien yet. The alien actually took a step back as Aegis appraised the smaller Andromedon. “Highly improbable.”

“I suppose this is confirmation that my defection has been suppressed,” Aegis said flatly. “Unsurprising.”

“Yes, we have an Ethereal working with us,” the Commander confirmed. “And it hasn’t been publicized for several reasons. Namely, that we don’t want the full force of the Collective being sent our direction.”

“This changes the parameters significantly,” V’Thrask continued. “All data gathered has been under the assumption of pure Human innovation. Ethereal support raises chances of success significantly.”

“To be fair,” Patricia said. “Everything ADVENT has done has been on their own. Aegis has only helped us out with some of our stuff. Mostly psionics and Gateways.”

“It is unfortunate that we are unable to establish contact with the Federation immediately,” V’Thrask said slowly, suit whirring as he looked down at him. “That the Ethereals have hidden this from us would be catastrophic.”

The Commander looked up at Aegis. “Would it?”

“Unlikely,” Aegis said. “The Federation would not move against the Collective. Tensions would rise, but nothing would be accomplished.”

A low gurgle came from the Andromedon suit. “Ethereal Aegis, I am afraid that you underestimate how severe things are becoming in the Federation. Your Collective is far more fragile than you are aware of. I am not talking of the ongoing feud between the Federation and the Greater Hive Commanders, but this is within the Unions themselves.”

The Commander crossed his arms. “I am _very_ interested to hear this. So, why are you defecting?”

“As I stated earlier, I, and those with me, were under orders,” V’Thrask began. “I am from the Andromedon Union Viarior, and there are those from the Apear, Reinarm, and Haruma as well. You are familiar with them, Ethereal; you should know what that implies.”

“It raises questions,” Aegis said. “Viarior I can understand, but the others seem odd.”

“Why?” Zhang demanded.

“Before I explain why this is significant, you must understand the current situation within the Federation,” V’Thrask interrupted. “The Unions are beginning to split again. Lines are being drawn unofficially. Chief Overseer Chernior, the leader of the Federation, and by extension, our species, has been attempting to project some measure of unity, but it is only a matter of time before the Hive Commanders learn of it, and I suspect the Zararch already know.”

“Likely,” Aegis agreed.

“Are you saying the Andromedons are facing a civil war?” The Commander asked, frowning.

“That,” V’Thrask emphasized. “Depends on a great many factors, one of which is your own species and this conflict. The Federation is not nearly aware of what is actually happening here as you might think, but they know that this should realistically not be even close to a battle. Something else is happening, and they need to know why.”

He looked towards Aegis. “They suspected it was because Humans are psionically capable and the Ethereals wanted to take care. Now it might be due to that one of their own has defected. As I said, an improbable development.”

“So is the Federation waiting for something?” Zhang asked. “Our victory or defeat?”

“And that is where the rising Union tensions are coming into play,” V’Thrask explained. “There are certain Andromedons who are frustrated with the seeming lack of leadership in the Collective, with the exception of the Battlemaster, and want to split off from it. There are two things stopping this from happening, the first is that there is no reliable defense or information on the living Ethereals, and it would be suicide to face the Sectoids, Vitakara and Mutons all on their own.”

He paused. “The second, and more important, is that the majority of the Federation considers the Greater Hive Commanders a threat, and that, more than anything else, is keeping the Federation together. The Unions may hate each other, but faced with a larger threat, we will unite against it.”

“The Federation fears the Hive Commanders that much?” Patricia questioned.

“They are an amoral race of drones led by equally ruthless telepathic masters,” V’Thrask stated. “They have never liked us. We have always distrusted them. It has been that way for a century and has slowly but surely deteriorated. The Hive Commanders build their fleets by the thousands, and hinder our own efforts. The Ethereals do not intervene, and most in the Federation do not believe we can rely upon them if it comes to war.”

“I suppose the question is if the Federation _is_ willing to go to war,” the Commander noted. “Whoever made the first strike would likely gain the support of the Ethereals paying attention.”

“The Sectoids are psionic,” V’Thrask said. “That automatically makes them more valuable. But you are correct. Tensions will simply keep rising until one takes the risk. If the Ethereals are watching, and have chosen to still not intervene…then some suspect they will simply let the Federation and Hive Commanders fight if they avoid Vitakara and other Collective military worlds.”

“Incorrect,” Aegis interrupted. “A war would be ended in days. Whichever side started it would have their leadership purged. Do not make the mistake of thinking that the Imperator is not watching.”

“You still haven’t answered why _you_ are here,” the Commander reminded him. “The situation is tense with the Federation. How does that relate to you?”

“There are a small group of Andromedons who would prefer you succeed,” V’Thrask said. “They see this as the best chance to break the Collective apart. They would support your war against the Collective. In return, should you defeat the Hive Commanders and Ethereal Collective, you would allow the remains of the Federation to establish themselves as an independent power.”

“The remains of the Federation?” Zhang noted.

“Openly allying with your species would lead to a civil war,” V’Thrask stated bluntly. “There are enough Unions and Andromedons who are Collective loyalists, even if they despise the Hive Commanders. The Battlemaster is extremely respected by our species, as is the Collective military.” V’Thrask bowed his head. “However, the Battlemaster does not expect treason, not from the Andromedons. We were placed here over a period of months for the sole purpose of eventually establishing contact with you, Commander. Our task has been accomplished and you are informed about the current situation. If you want, we can continue to provide our expertise against the Collective itself. Each of us are experts in our field. Engineering, artificial intelligence, chemical warfare. While your species has made impressive strides, you are lacking in many areas.”

The Commander exchanged a glance with Zhang, who gave a single nod. V’Thrask was definitely not lying; either Patricia or Aegis would have said something, and now they had potential allies should they ever move outside Earth. While he didn’t exactly like the idea of Andromedon allies, he wasn’t going to refuse their help, since they ultimately weren’t the real problem.

The information that the Federation and Greater Hive Commanders were on the verge of…if not war, then some kind of conflict…that was extremely interesting and useful. The more he thought about it, the less stable the Collective really was. The only thing that was keeping everything from completely falling apart were the Ethereals, and depending on how things went, more could die in the coming months and years.

There was no unity in the Collective. The entire thing was based on fear; fear that defying the Ethereals would lead to death. Not unreasonable, but impossible to build something sustainable on. While Ethereals like the Battlemaster did what they could, that clearly was not solving the underlying issue of _what_ was keeping the Collective together.

He wondered if any Ethereal had come to this conclusion.

Perhaps they had, and they simply did not care. It would not surprise him.

“Fine,” the Commander nodded. “You help us get the Collective off Earth, and we’ll eventually get you back to the Federation and help kill the Hive Commanders and Ethereals. I’m sure we can find some use for you here.”

“Excellent,” V’Thrask said. “While all of us are experienced in combat, I suspect it would not do to participate in operations alongside you. But we will assist where you need us.”

“In that case,” the Commander said slowly, rather surprised he was even in a position to say this. “Welcome to XCOM, V’Thrask.”

***

_Unknown Location – Argentina_

_11/8/2016 – 10:17 A.M._

To say it had been an interesting week would be a severe understatement. There were plans and strikes to carry out as usual, and several of his people recently come from Africa were certainly talking of _interesting_ developments. Supposedly something big was coming relatively soon, but he was likely going to be distracted by everything else that had happened. Africa, right now, was just not important.

The muted TV played silently in front of his chair, with some TV anchor showing the Chancellor giving some speech, which was likely some variation on “With this victory, we have reminded the aliens that we will not go quietly into the night, we’re going to live on…”

He snorted and shook his head. If the Chancellor decided to just blatantly rip off speeches from good invasion movies, he might be more inclined to watch. As it was, ADVENT’s own counterattack had been both a surprise and a curiosity to watch. The aliens had been clearly caught off guard, and he could give ADVENT credit where it was due, it was legitimately impressive.

Now if that would last, he was less sure of. In fact, he knew it wasn’t going to last. Ignoring that this was an _alien species_ , it was just how war worked. ADVENT would get a big victory, which was going to come at some point, then likely a few days or weeks later, the aliens would fight back. It was just going to be a continuous back and forth until one side hurt the other too badly. And right now, Volk knew that ADVENT would exhaust itself long before the aliens did.

Still, their focus on the aliens was good for him. Less attention being paid to the lesser countries across the world, and the borders with foreign nations weren’t getting the attention they needed. Perfect for making sure the Peacekeepers stayed well away from Argentina. But there was only so much that he could do, and he’d been content with that given that work was never in shortage.

Until he’d received a _very_ mysterious package.

 _That_ had been surprising on multiple levels, since for one, only a _very_ few people knew his actual location, and all of them he trusted with his life, and said package had not come from any of them. It was unmarked, and was small enough to fit into his hand. The initial instincts of himself and his people were a very poor assassination attempt. Package bombs and poisons were not unheard of when his location was more public, so they’d followed their own procedures.

Once it had been confirmed that it wasn’t a bomb, or poisoned, they’d opened it and inside was some circular device with a note with instructions written in English, but decidedly strange handwriting. Volk had his suspicions when he’d seen the handwriting, and when it had turned out that it was some kind of holoprojector, it had been confirmed.

He pressed the button on the holoprojector, needing to see it once again. A blue figure appeared, a seemingly large Vitakarian wearing some kind of light armor which had an unidentifiable emblem that was likely some hieroglyph or word in their language emblazoned on the upper right chest. Other than that, the alien had no weapons or other identifying features. Aside from the obvious glowing eyes and the timbre all Vitakara seemed to have when they spoke of course.

 _“Greetings, Konstantine Volikov,”_ the recording began, in perfectly spoken English. _“My name is Zar’joreal’mattis, designated representative of the Ethereal Collective and the Elder Asaru for the purposes of this message. We have been gathering information on your world and are aware of your current operations in South America and beyond.”_

The alien paused. _“While we understand you may have some reservations given the larger situation, your own work indicates that you are aware ADVENT is not as truthful as it appears, and certain important facts about us have been…omitted, for admittedly obvious reasons.”_

Volk had to smile mirthfully at that. While ADVENT were no saints, the insinuation that they lied about _everything_ or even _major_ things was questionable at best. Like the little fact that this entire invasion was unprovoked, or Australia for that matter. But he kept listening.

_“We recognize that we have made some missteps in the handling of your species, and it is now time, we believe, to begin rectifying that and working with certain parts of your species more closely. We are willing to meet you and discuss your current operations and how we can support them, and with your cooperation, we can move forward from there. If you wish to accept, simply press the black button on the side of this communicator which will establish a link with me. Both I and Elder Asaru look forward to your response.”_

The hologram vanished. He looked over to Elena who was staring at where the hologram had been, her face complexly blank as usual, but she was blinking intermittently and not messing with the partially disassembled pistol in her hands. He knew her enough to know that was her thinking overtime. “Still think I should go through with it?”

Right now, that was the plan. There couldn’t be too much harm in meeting. Well, there could be, but the aliens knew he existed now, which was not something he could ignore. For all he knew, refusing would just lead to them killing him. Accepting could at least give him some information about what they wanted. He wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t want to, but if he was going to force the aliens to kill him, it was going to be on terms he had some control over.

He was also curious to meet this Asaru.

“Impossible to determine plausibility of honesty without further interrogation of species in question,” she answered automatically. “More information can only be ascertained by contact. Answer unchanged.” She glanced down. “I am sorry.”

He set the holocommunicator down and went to sit by her, feeling guilty he’d brought it up again. Elena was taking her inability to determine if an _alien,_ which she had no experience with, was lying or not, much harder than she really should. It wasn’t entirely her fault she was that way; he blamed the GRU for that.

“It’s out of your control,” he told her, taking one of her hands off the table. “You did fine. And I think you can fix that in the future.”

Her mind immediately jumped to what he could mean like that. “Interview/Interrogation of captured alien personnel?”

Well, maybe not _quite_ like that. “If this goes through…maybe you can just talk to them?”

One firm nod. “Acceptable. Deficiencies will be fixed. Upon contact, what is your plan?”

“Right, that.” He scratched his beard, a smile coming to his face. “I think we should make a lasting impression. Make it clear where we stand and that we’re doing this our way.”

Elena returned to assembling her weapon. “Aliens are notably advanced in technological aspects, and have displayed more military might than we currently command. Demands will likely be ineffective; negotiating advantage is not in our favor.”

“Perhaps,” Volk said slowly. “But I’m not going to be an alien puppet, and right now, I’m guessing the aliens need us more than we need them.”

Elena paused, looked up and frowned at him. “Implausible. Alien forces are estimated to outmatch our own-“

“Elena,” he interrupted with a smile, glad she was seeming at least curious enough to speak more about this outside of necessities. “If that were the case, then why contact me at all?”

She blinked twice, and considered for a few moments. “They approve of your work against ADVENT. Our work.”

He grunted. “Probably at least one reason. Really, Elena, I don’t know why, but I do have some leverage here, and I’m going to use it. But you’re going to be there when we meet. I don’t trust anyone else more than you.”

“Good,” she appraised her completed weapon. “Operatives retained are insufficient to properly protect you. If the aliens try to trick you, they will die.” Volk smiled at that, because he knew that wasn’t an idle threat. If Elena didn’t like where the aliens were leading him and blew the brains out of whoever this representative was, well, then the alien alliance wouldn’t happen. A shame, but he trusted her instincts over his own.

There were advantages to being the leader. He had many tricks, but very few would ever predict that the most effective one would just so happen to be the woman he loved.

Always amusing to see idiots underestimate both of them. And he knew exactly what he was going to do now. Risky, but then again, so was this entire event.

***

_Abuja – Nigeria_

_11/9/2017 – 12:02 P.M._

The good news was that progress was being made. President Okon had assured her that he had reached out to ‘certain parties’, though had not disclosed exactly who to her until now. In the meantime, she’d let him begin the political aspects, while she had worked to establish her own soldiers more permanently, and Okon had ‘gifted’ them a large district in Bwari.

While he didn’t explicitly confirm it, she was fairly sure he’d displaced the few people who were living there, much to her displeasure. It wasn’t even as nice as an ADVENT base, but there was electricity and running water, as well as plenty of bunks. They’d converted some of the buildings to armories and storage areas, and the rest were improvised barracks. Some of the Engineers brought along were looking into improving what they had, but that would take time.

Unfortunately, displacing people was a topic that was something to bring up with him later, and in the meantime she’d been busy working on getting everyone situated. She had many of her soldiers working with the Nigerian military to bring them up to some level of ADVENT standards.

Betos did have to admit that the multi-national nature of ADVENT meant they had a rather diverse coalition, even if her own group was composed of primarily Israeli, American, and German soldiers. Still, the Nigerian soldiers had paid attention to what they did share, and the remaining deserters were deciding to take some liberties with their own armor.

She wasn’t sure if she should be enforcing some harsher standards, but she personally didn’t care overmuch if they decided to spraypaint and color their armor different from the standard black, blue, white, or green. They weren’t part of ADVENT anymore, and were technically not part of anyone else’s military either. So some standards could be relaxed.

“A word of warning, Marshal,” President Okon said to her while they stood overlooking part of the entrance to the Presidential Palace, where they were waiting for his guests to arrive. “These men may not be who you expect, though I ask you to forget your…prejudices…when speaking.”

She pursed her lips. “That is not for you to decide, President Okon. And I think it is past time you informed me who you are expecting.” Perhaps it was presumptuous of her to speak like that to the President of Nigeria, but she wasn’t ignorant of the fact that she was in a stronger position than he wanted to admit.

“I suppose you are owed that much,” he agreed, not facing her. “The presidents of Chad, Niger, and Cameroon; Babikr Kone, Ezeudo Ifekristi, and Atem Esaba, respectively, of course. They have agreed to speak about a more _permanent_ alliance of African power.” He gave her a sidelong look. “You wish the unification of Africa, yes?”

She gave a nod. “That is the only way you have a chance.”

Okon chuckled. “Perhaps, perhaps, but you realize that cannot be done with peace exclusively.” His nose wrinkled in disdain as the first limo began pulling up. “There are many undesirables that inhabit our nations. Terrorists, thieves, rebels; people who disrupt our stability. An alliance weakened with this rot will not stand against anything, much less the might of ADVENT.”

Again, she was not liking the feeling she was getting from this. “Rebels and terrorists. I imagine they have motives?”

“The usual,” he snorted. “ _Corruption_ , ‘abuse of power’, pitiful excuses designed to appeal to western sympathies. As if _they_ know anything about what is required to run a government.”

On one hand, Betos was unfamiliar with the intricacies of the African nations, and Okon did have a point. Revolutionaries were often more idealistic than practical, and the ones that emerged victorious had a fairly high chance of collapsing soon after, and terrorists had no motivation beyond killing those they hated.

It was an important distinction. Terrorists were driven by hate; rebels and revolutionaries by hope and dreams. Terrorists had no goal outside death; rebels at least had some larger goals to strive towards. And many governments often ascribed the word ‘terrorist’ when it wasn’t nearly as simple. Palestine had been handled that way, and in that lens, the outcome was almost assured.

Betos didn’t particularly like the idea that she was likely going to be working with some probably terrible people. She didn’t know for sure, and Okon was going to explain everything smoothly, but her instincts told her that this wasn’t exactly the right side.

“You would make a better first impression if you wore something more appropriate,” Okon said as he turned around, and Betos followed him into the Presidential Palace. “While it may be acceptable elsewhere, your military rank and…experience…is atypical, especially of a woman.”

Betos resisted bristling. “I doubt you are suggesting that they are intimidated by me?”

“Considering you are wearing armor to an otherwise formal occasion, it is not unlikely,” Okon smiled. “But consider it a warning that they are less likely to respect you.”

“Too bad,” Betos shrugged. “I’m a soldier, not a diplomat, and I’m not going to coddle supposed leaders of countries because a woman in combat gear makes them uncomfortable. I’m here to help you keep ADVENT out of Africa, and that’s it.”

“If you insist,” Okon sighed. “As long as you are aware of the consequences.” They walked through the ornate hallways, which Betos still personally found a little too gaudy for her liking. Maybe she just didn’t like the shining white paint everywhere. At least Okon had taken her advice about making sure everything was protected, and there were a fine mixture of her soldiers and Nigerian military guards at all doorways and hallways, not including the small guard that was following them.

One of the Nigerian soldiers came up to Okon and told him something quietly. The President nodded, glancing at her. “The first of our guests has arrived, let us prepare accordingly.” Just as well, since they were going towards the small dining room anyway. Okon planned to have the talks take place over a meal, which seemed fairly standard.

The dining room was very similar to where she’d first talked with Okon himself, with a beautifully set table for five, and delicious-looking and smelling food on it. The stage was set, and now all that remained was for the actors to finally meet. At the very least, she was making progress here, and the next few hours would determine if that was a good or bad thing.

Knowing how things typically went, she was assuming that it would be a little bit of both.

***

_Resistance Camp Outskirts, Northern Territory – Australia_

_11/9/2016 – 2:12 P.M._

Abby was rather happy, and not just because she’d identified another potential target to liberate. Adelaide wasn’t the largest city in Australia, but it was one that was under a fairly light alien guard, or so it had seemed from several days of scouting. Timed right, they could liberate thousands of people and damage the alien operations here even more.

They also didn’t appear to be doing anything important with the city either, so that would only make the mission easier. Harper could probably be convinced, and the Chronicler would almost certainly go along with it. And on top of that, ADVENT crushing the aliens in America was definitely something that, while she hadn’t expected, had given her a surge of confidence.

While they had been making progress here, ultimately they were doing little more than irritating the aliens. Abby knew their effect was minimal, and the heavy legwork would have to be done by ADVENT and XCOM, and recently things had not exactly been looking good. But now it seemed like there was some measure of control being established.

Abby froze as her hand went to her pistol as she heard something scuttling in the bushes. While the arid and rather empty Australian wasteland was something she personally despised, one benefit was that it was almost impossible for her to be surprised. In contrast, the Resistance had set up where there was some cover from vegetation; scratchy bushes and trees, with some high weeds and ferns for good measure. Climate-wise, it was better, but it also allowed for ambushes, which she supposed was perhaps the point.

However, to her knowledge, Harper would have his soldiers just approach her normally, not hide in the bushes. And come to think of it, around this time there were generally guards…she holstered her pistol and unstrapped her rifle and took a cautious step forward. “Step out from the bushes!”

To her horror, there was a familiar animal shriek and a Chryssalid leapt out, spittle flying from its teeth and the purple carapace glittering in the sunlight. Abby didn’t even think and fired a burst from her rifle, which punctured the alien in the head and torso. It shrieked again and fell to the ground, and another burst with her rifle finished it off, though she fired again to be sure it was dead.

Once that was done, she immediately reloaded, because if there was _one_ Chryssalid here, there would be more around, and if there were Chryssalids around, there were going to be other aliens. She had a sickening feeling she knew what had happened. That would explain why she hadn’t been able to update Harper earlier. She hadn’t thought much of it because communication was sporadic to begin with, and it wasn’t the first time she hadn’t been able to get into contact. However, she’d sent a message which meant…

She crept up to the bushes, trying to keep low as she surveyed the surrounding vegetation. Everything screamed for her to rush to the camp immediately since some of them may be alive, but she knew that was likely the fastest way to her getting killed. _Calm, calm._ She took a second to catch her breath and assess what she knew.

One: There were aliens here. Chryssalids and probably more.

Two: There were no sounds of fighting, which meant either everyone was dead or they were recovering. That there was a Chryssalid indicated the former.

Three: If they had access to the communications, they might be expecting her.

Four: Where the hell was the Chronicler?

Something like this shouldn’t have happened if he was there. He wasn’t flashy with his abilities, and she knew he didn’t like people knowing about them, but he should have been able to sense them coming and either redirect them or kill them. So either he hadn’t been here or…oh, that wasn’t good.

Or the Ethereals could have figured out there was a psion with the Resistance and sent one of their own to kill him.

Retreat might be the best option, but the problem was that she had nowhere to go. She had one little Humvee, which would not have enough gas to get to the other, smaller camps, which for all she knew, had been similarly attacked. She didn’t have powerful enough communication equipment to contact XCOM, and with all that, she needed to know at least if there were survivors. So she moved forward slowly, methodically, aiming her weapon at every sound.

Now that she was closer to the camp, the signs of battle were clear. There were piles of Chryssalid corpses, and even more bodies of Resistance soldiers, some of whom were torn apart from the Chryssalids implanted in the bodies and hatching. The odor was already pungent in the hot Australian sun, and the yellow and red blood of Humans and aliens splattered and drying on the dirt.

The mix of tents and temporary plastic structures seemed largely intact, oddly enough, even with some clear rips and dents. But it seemed deserted, aside from hundreds of people dead in the center area. She decided it was worth risking exposure, since there was nowhere else to go, even if it looked like no one was alive.

She carefully stepped through the mass of corpses, and began noticing that the methods of death were not the same. The soldiers on the edges of the camp were clearly ripped apart unceremoniously and messily; by claws and teeth. These…these were _precise_ cuts. Abby knelt down, frowning as she looked at the corpse of a soldier whose throat had been split, and the ones next to him had been killed with a stab wound to the heart.

Yes, it definitely wasn’t a firearm, nor was it plasma or laser. How could someone get close enough to stab someone through the chest? The only aliens she was aware of that even _used_ melee weapons were the Battlemaster, some Dath’Haram, and the Oyariah. Maybe this was done by Dath’Haram? But with the amount of corpses around with those same kinds, either a small army of _nothing_ but them had come, or this was something else.

She scanned the faces, looking for ones she recognized. Harper would have gone down fighting with his men. She didn’t see Joseph either, though it was entirely possible he was just buried under more corpses or lying face-down. Nor did she see the Chronicler, who would be more distinct, even in this mess.

Abby made her way to the command tent, still not hearing anything, and pushed open the flap and saw everything largely as she had left it. The maps, table, and equipment were still there, but there was no one else, no bodies either thankfully. The air suddenly shimmered beside her and the Chronicler literally stepped out of thin air.

“Too late,” he muttered, not seeming to notice her at first. “A problem.”

“Where _were_ you?” Abby demanded, temporarily forgetting his suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “Everyone is _dead_!”

“Wait,” he held up a hand, cocking his head. “No, not everyone. Harper and a few soldiers are barricaded in one of the barracks structures. You’re still in danger here. This place is not abandoned.”

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. Good news. Sort of. “What else is left?” She asked. “I killed a Chryssalid here, but there may be more.”

“The Chryssalids are gone,” the Chronicler stated, walking out into the open again, face hardening once he saw the mass of corpses. “This should not have happened. In answer to your question, I was doing some scouting of my own. Away from here, clearly. But I think the aliens know I exist.”

“Wonderful,” Abby muttered, weapon still raised as she looked around. “ _How_?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, gingerly stepping forward. She wished he had his armor on, but instead he wore the typical desert survival gear most of the Resistance had, much lighter than her own. “But something was interfering with my telepathy, redirecting it, lulling me into a kind of complacency. When I detected it, it vanished and I knew something had likely happened. So I came back.”

“We’ll discuss how you did _that_ when we get Harper out of here,” Abby said. “Where are they?”

“In the-ah!” The Chronicler gasped and Abby leapt back as a dark grey blade sprouted from his chest, a towering armored figure appearing behind him. The being pulled out the blade, flinging the droplets of blood behind it with a flourish. The armor on the alien was slim and form-fitting, with a base of dark grey with a dark red highlighting the boots, pauldrons and gauntlets.

On the chest was the same stick-figure like Ethereal that she recognized from the report on the Senorium alien. While it did seem smaller in mass, it still had to be at least seven or eight feet tall. The helmet matched the rest of the form-fitting style, and was a thin grey faceplate with slanted eye slits which glowed purple.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” the alien growled, a rasping and guttural voice, which seemed to actually be female in origin. It was hard to tell with aliens. “You were supposed to be _away_.” Abby fired her weapon and the alien raised a hand, stopping her gauss slugs and then gesturing, throwing her back where she slammed against one of the plastic structures.

The Chronicler had amazingly not fallen over, but instead turned to the alien, smiling even though clearly in some amount of pain. “You wouldn’t be the first to underestimate what I can do.”

She swung her blade clearly intending to either slice him open or behead him, but the Chronicler didn’t even move, instead let the blade come to him, only for it to hit an invisible wall mere millimeters from his neck. He peered curiously up at the alien. “Curious. Just what _are_ you?”

“The one who will kill you,” it hissed, thrusting out a hand encased in crackling psionic energy and pressed it towards him only for the Chronicler to flick his fingers and send her flying backwards. She did recover gracefully and landed perfectly on her feet with a backflip.

“You are no Ethereal,” the Chronicler chided, taking some careful steps toward her. “Whatever you are, I think it is you who will die today. I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury yet.”

“Fool!” She growled, the air behind her shimmering with purple energy as she built up some kind of psionic wave. “I _cannot_ be killed.”

With a push the wave roared towards the Chronicler, throwing bodies and debris that were already partially disintegrating from the corrosive energy, which the Chronicler responded to by raising a hand and a purple shield appeared in front of the wave, stopping it completely. Abby felt completely useless as she just watched; she knew she would only get in the way if she got involved again, and better to have the Chronicler focus only on this alien than worry about protecting her as well.

“Not bad,” the Chronicler complimented mockingly as he made a twisting motion with his hands, and all the joints of the alien suddenly averted with a loud snap, causing the alien to half-growl, half-scream in pain as she collapsed to the ground in a heap. But to Abby’s surprise, it barely worked for more than a few seconds.

The alien flung out one limb, as if snapping it back into place, did the same with the other one, and physically straightened out the legs, before standing, reaching for her blade. “Who _are_ you, psion?” She demanded, now appraising the Chronicler more carefully. “No one has _ever_ done that before.”

“Someone who is far more powerful than you can hope to be,” he answered, all humor gone. “I would advise you leave now before this gets worse.”

The alien chuckled. “A worthy challenge then.” She flourished her blade and vanished into the air and immediately appeared beside the Chronicler and swiped down, only to be blocked by the Chronicler’s own psionic blade which immediately moved to block her next few swipes, before she vanished again and materialized behind him, though the Chronicler blocked her just as easily.

The attacks the alien sent out became much more complicated. She was somehow sending out waves of psionic energy with her blade swings, and somehow teleporting to multiple angles within seconds of each other in an attempt to overwhelm him. The Chronicler surrounded himself in a psionic shield, negating the worst of it, but he appeared to be taking her more seriously.

This alien must have had some resistance to telepathy, otherwise Abby felt the Chronicler would have ended this a while ago. “Enough of this,” she heard the Chronicler rumble, his voice layered deeply as he was drawing on his psionic power. He extended a hand and the blade of the alien was ripped out of her hands, and he somehow imitated her teleportation attack, appearing right behind her and slashing downwards, cleaving successfully through the part of her shoulder that wasn’t as armored, and followed up by pulling out _another_ smaller knife-like attachment in the hilt of the sword itself and stabbing it into her chin, and using the longer blade to plunge through her neck, and thrust a hand out, sending her flying back.

There was a brief interlude of nothing, as the alien was…not motionless, but not going to get up anytime soon. How it was still alive Abby had no idea, but it seemed to be largely over. She moved to walk over when the Chronicler raised a hand in her direction. _“Wait.”_

She raised her weapon, useless as it might be in the direction of the alien, which now had some nebulous purple aura around it, faintly clinging to the alien body, which first used her good arm to yank the knife out of her chin, and slowly pulled out the sword lodged in her neck while standing up. Both weapons fell to the ground with dull thuds, as the severed arm was pulled to her, and held under the stump that was light with bright purple thread-like lines and what looked like swirling matter.

Once it was attached, she flexed it experimentally, and with a motion the knife was returned to the blade with a click and she held it pointed to them. “I warned you,” she hissed, nothing in her voice indicating the injury she had sustained. “ _I. Cannot. Die!”_

Abby saw the Chronicler frown. She had no idea what would happen. Maybe explosives would work? But the alien had not died from _two_ fatal wounds, and was clearly enhanced with some kind of nanotech and psionic…something. The Chronicler was clearly more powerful, and could likely hold out for as long as the alien, but that wasn’t a large advantage when the opponent was seemingly immortal.

“Get Harper and the survivors,” the Chronicler told her as he appraised the alien. “I’ll keep her busy.” Abby didn’t wait to see what he did, and dashed towards where the Chronicler had initially pointed to where the survivors were, stepping over wrecked bunks and bodies, until she found a clearly barricaded door, which was supposed to be a debriefing room, although very, very small.

“Harper!” She yelled, hearing the unearthly sounds of psionic combat outside. “Open up now!”

“Is the area secure?” The voice of Harper called out.

“No,” Abby glanced behind her at the exit. “But it’s contained. You need to get out _now_!”

“Hold on.” It took nearly a minute of rustling and moving before the door opened to reveal a haggard, blood-streaked Lincoln Harper, with one less eye; the ruined one was an untreated gory mess. The rest of the survivors were not much better, with bandaged wounds, limbs twisted at bad angles, and otherwise looked exhausted, even if they still clung to their weapons. Three men and one woman were with him, some of the faces she recognized, but no one she really knew.

“What’s going on?” One of them asked.

“Some alien attacked me when I came back,” she answered. “She’s currently being fought off by…just come on, we shouldn’t waste more time. Can all of you move?”

“We can move,” Harper affirmed. “Though some of us can’t fight at the same time.”

Abby shrugged and waved them towards the exit. “Not much we can do to help anyway.”

She guided them out where the Chronicler was currently bathing the alien in psionic energy, which was causing severe damage to the armor, but otherwise didn’t seem to be hurting her, and she was continuing her teleportation making it even more difficult to actually keep her pinned. Harper looked on in disbelief. “That’s-“

“Yeah,” Abby said, keeping to the side of the conflict. “No questions yet.”

The Chronicler seemed to sense where they were, and released a massive telekinetic wave towards the alien which caught her and flung her backwards. “These aliens are more dangerous than I anticipated,” the Chronicler told her as they came closer. “They should not be possible, not without extensive technology the Ethereals do not possess. This will require further investigation. In the meantime, you need to be removed here to warn XCOM. Harper, were all the cells hit?”

Harper got over his shock quickly. “I don’t know, but I did have contact with several backup ones. Where were-“

“Unimportant,” the Chronicler looked at them, even as the alien was getting up and walking back. “ADVENT and XCOM need to be warned. I know one place that isn’t hit. You will be set there until we can determine the extent of this attack.”

“Set?” Abby wondered, nervously glancing at the alien.

“A way to get you out,” he gestured and it went flying again. “You’ll be able to contact XCOM and ADVENT from there. I would advise you keep my role quiet until I return. It will not be long, and this might feel strange.”

He raised a hand towards them, and there was a brief shimmer and they were all suddenly someplace else.

***

_Unknown Location – Argentina_

_11/9/2016 – 3:33 P.M._

Volk was definitely not planning to let the aliens see his actual base, so he and several of his people had established a temporary camp where, if things didn’t go right, the main camp would be safe. The designated meeting location was in an open plain right before one of the forests where they were camped.

It really was a beautiful day with a slight breeze and cloudy sky. The vegetation was a healthy green, and more importantly, provided his snipers cover while they were aiming out to where the UFO was set to land. Volk did not know exactly what to expect, except that the Vitakarian representative had assured him that Asaru would speak personally.

Elena was the only one beside him, and she had her hood up and geared for battle. He was similarly armed, though thought this would be best conducted face to face; hoods weren’t needed since they knew who he was already. Either way, he felt suitably protected and his scouts had confirmed that there were no alien snipers or similarly hidden agents.

The aliens could come to Earth, but they just were not experienced enough to blend in.

“Ah, here it comes,” Volk said to no one in particular. One of the circular UFOs he’d seen so often on the ADVENT news shot overhead and hovered over the plains. The metal was a dark grey as opposed to the regular bright shimmering silver the other ones had. But aside from that, it looked completely identical to one of the fighters.

He saw Elena grip her weapon tighter, and he knew she was getting ready in case she had to shoot something the moment it stepped outside. Unlikely to be needed, but that was just how she was. The UFO slowly lowered itself, not generating any wind, but somehow blowing the grass directly underneath it down.

“I don’t like how it feels,” Elena muttered quietly. “I don’t like how it sounds.”

Now that Volk paid attention, he did now hear the low constant thrumming that was just on the edge of his hearing. It was low and continuous, likely some kind of engine or generator, he did not find it difficult to block out. But every few seconds he did feel something like a pulse; imperceptible and it didn’t seem to _do_ anything, but he still felt it.

 _That_ made him uncomfortable. Hopefully the aliens would shut it off.

“Let’s go greet our alien friends,” Volk said, and walked closer to the UFO. The pulsing was definitely based on distance, since he definitely felt it more often the closer he got, even if the intensity was exactly the same. He was getting concerned it was going to make Elena preemptively react to any surprises, and he couldn’t exactly fault her for that.

They waited for several minutes, and the pulsing suddenly stopped. Thank God. Still, the aliens were taking their sweet time coming out. They were deliberately waiting for something, and he was trying to not just go up and see if anyone was inside. Maybe they intended for him to enter the UFO? If so, they were going to be waiting a while. There was no chance he was going to go in there, Elena or no.

Then the multicolored shield that seemed to function as a kind of door suddenly dissipated. Good, at least they were going to come out. But to his surprise, no alien of any kind walked out.

Instead, out came the most beautiful woman Volk had ever seen.

Wavy brown hair sharply cut off at the shoulders framed a face that he could best describe as ‘regal’, with fair skin, unmarred features and entrancing violet eyes. Her face was warm, inviting and caring. Her body was just as perfect, well-toned and only slightly shorter than he was. She was also dressed in what appeared to be some kind of alien armor, which had thin silver plates that protected the limbs and torso, while the underarmor garments were a dark grey. Aliens liked that color. She carried no helmet, nor any weapons, and walked with a quiet confidence towards him.

He was immediately suspicious.

While he couldn’t deny that the aliens had somehow managed to figure out his physical preferences, it was suitably unnerving to be greeted with the sight of a likely ambassador to the aliens looking like she’d just walked off the runway of Miss USA. _No_ _one_ that good usually joined the military, and he’d bet even fewer would join the _aliens_ of all things.

The most likely explanation was that this so-called Human wasn’t actually real, but some kind of genetic…thing…the aliens thought might, for some reason, put him at ease. He didn’t know if he should be flattered, or horrified at just how disturbingly accurate the aliens had guessed what he might like.

Nope, he was definitely feeling the latter.

“Konstantine Volikov, a pleasure to finally meet,” she said. Her fucking voice was even perfect; strong, seductive with a clear Russian accent. This was now _very_ unsettling. She extended a gloved hand which he did take. It was pretty much as he expected, she at least felt like a Human, although with gloves that didn’t mean much.

“That is…mutual,” he said, keeping his voice normal. “You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”

She gave a dazzling smile. “Of course. I am Asaru; I believe you wanted to meet personally?” He couldn’t suppress a blink of surprise, which… _Asaru_ seemed to find amusing. “Not what you expected, I presume?”

“No.” He said flatly. “I believe your associate identified you as an Elder, or Ethereal as ADVENT likes to call them. You are very clearly a Human.”

“The ruse serves its purpose,” Asaru explained wistfully. “But I find labels and such limiting. Once you tell people who and what you are, there are certain expectations that have to be fulfilled,” she sighed. “But I find such tiring. And you act surprised that a Human could be working with the Collective? Is that really so hard to believe?”

Volk raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to say yes. And even if they were, I don’t think they’d have such a position of…influence; which you seem to have. And I don’t think you’re actually Asaru.”

She clicked her teeth. “You are rather bold, but perceptive.”

Volk gave an unamused smirk. “I thought I was going to be speaking with her.”

“I assure you,” ‘Asaru’ said. “Everything we discuss here will be relayed to her. I speak with her complete authority.”

“Really.” Volk said slowly, thinking of what to do next. At the very least he wanted to get some information about the aliens, even if he was ultimately going to make Asaru herself come before they even thought of reaching some agreement. Best to play along. Asaru’s smile widened, seemingly for no reason.

“If you really represent her,” Volk said. “You should be able to answer some questions.”

She bowed her head. “That is why I am here.”

“Good,” Volk crossed his arms. “So here’s the most obvious one: Why is your Collective even here?”

“Through an interesting set of circumstances,” she answered. “We were led here, but didn’t know what we would find. We observed your species for a short time, before the ones watching took it upon themselves to begin conducting operations. Peace was thrown out, as they did not think your species would willingly join, and your species was nowhere near united enough to make such a major decision.”

Volk snorted. “How convenient. Everything just so happens to be someone else’s fault. Next you’ll tell me that those who made those decisions are dead or gone. Please. Don’t lie to me. If you forcibly assimilate species, just fucking say so. I promise not to be offended.”

“We do not as a general rule,” Asaru repeated. “However, we…misstepped with Humanity. We did indeed believe that you were both too primitive and violent to be peacefully assimilated. Something that has clearly been disproved rather violently. Contrary to what you might believe, most of the species in the Ethereal Collective joined willingly and peacefully.”

“Most?”

“The Mutons were uplifted, but they truly were primitive and fought our efforts.”

Volk was inclined to believe that. “So basically what you’re saying is that you did a bad job initially and now everyone is stuck in a war.”

Asaru pursed her lips. “In retrospect, it likely didn’t need to come to this.”

Volk rubbed his forehead. “And what is stopping you from just saying sorry and making peace? ADVENT isn’t the only power in the world for now.”

“Please,” Asaru dismissed. “Your species will never end this war voluntarily. XCOM and ADVENT will not allow it; perhaps they are justified, perhaps not, but unfortunately, ending the war is not possible, because at best it would only delay it. You see the danger ADVENT poses, now imagine what they will do in even twenty or fifty years?”

Volk was watching her face intently, now seeing some strange things that didn’t really add up to what she was saying. “And I suppose the Collective is _much_ better than ADVENT?”

“What ADVENT does not tell people is that, ironically, we are more open than they are,” Asaru said with a knowing smile. “While each species government answers to us, they are largely autonomous. This is no overarching and oppressive empire, like ADVENT is, but we have no interest in a species forced to fit to what we perceive them to be. As obviously ADVENT is incompatible, the government you would have under the Collective is, quite literally, what you want it to be.”

Volk didn’t even try to disguise the skepticism he felt. “By that, I assume that includes working with alien ambassadors, as well as anyone else you’re contacting. I’m definitely not the only one here, am I?”

A rhetorical question, but one he wanted answered. “There are fewer than you think,” Asaru said. “There is one other, and that might expand further. While ADVENT doubtlessly believes that we prefer puppet leaders, that isn’t exactly true. Puppets have their uses, but they cannot build anything lasting. In general, I personally find them incompetent and require too much micromanaging.”

Asaru shook her head. “You are not a puppet, Volikov, that is why I have contacted you instead of appealing to the Argentinian and Chilean governments. I could, but they would be too scared of what we can do to be of permanent use. You respect us, but you are not intimidated by us either. A rare trait in a Human.”

Volk was not sure if this was a genuine comment, or alien flattery. “Well, I’m surprised you consider me so highly. However, I assume you realize my influence is…limited,” he nodded towards Elena. “I don’t have a large group, and I’m definitely not a politician.”

“I have little interest in Human politics,” Asaru dismissed with a sniff. “Work with us, and we’ll provide you with whatever you need to first secure these regions, and then take the fight to ADVENT. You are Human, we are not. You know what is needed; you know the strengths and weaknesses here. You will lead our operations here, while I will only serve as an advisor.”

Much as he didn’t like to admit it, he had to admit she could make a good offer. Assuming she was telling the truth…hmm…there was a lot he could do. The problem was there were still things that just didn’t add up. “Let’s ignore that for the moment,” Volk said slowly. “Why even go through all this trouble in the first place? Much as ADVENT is saying otherwise, I haven’t exactly forgotten that you could likely destroy us quickly. So why don’t you?”

Asaru’s expression didn’t change. “As I said earlier, your species was mishandled. A war does not serve anyone, and simply conquering your species would accomplish nothing but increasing anti-alien sentiment and drive dangerous organizations with vast resources like XCOM and ADVENT underground, who wouldn’t cease until they are either removed or succeed.”

She paused. “There are several additional reasons, but some even I am not at liberty to disclose. Suffice to say the situation is more complicated than you might assume. Yes, we could dominate your species, but it would backfire more than our operations here already have.”

That…was an oddly logical answer. He hadn’t expected the aliens to admit they screwed up here, but it actually seemed like the being in front of him was actually saying that which was…oddly refreshing. From an alien of all things. “Go get him,” he told Elena, who nodded and walked away. Volk returned his attention to Asaru. “So instead you want to make…alliances with certain people. Show that the Collective can cooperate peacefully with Humans. Turn this from a species conflict to an interspecies one.”

“To an extent, yes,” Asaru confirmed. “I sincerely doubt standard operations will cease, but countries with our backing should be Human-led and controlled. ADVENT will simply use that as propaganda otherwise.

Volk’s lips curled up. “Assuming they wouldn’t do that anyway.”

She mirrored his smile. “A fair point. I am curious now what you are thinking. You haven’t shot or refused, so I assume you are considering.”

“I am,” Volk eyed her carefully. “I won’t ask you for some guarantee, because both of us know promises are all well and good, but you can’t prove you’ll follow through. What you are saying sounds… _promising_ …but I suppose we’ll see just how genuine you really are.”

Her smile didn’t diminish. “If you wish, I could provide you with what you would hope to be sufficient proof. I would certainly hate to try and find another qualified candidate.”

“It’s not about what you can give me,” Volk said. “It’s about what you’ll allow. So, you want me to wage a war against ADVENT with you and establish the New Earth Collective, or whatever you decide to call it? Then we’re going to do this my way. No exceptions.”

Asaru scratched her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose that depends on what you have in mind. I can’t promise no exceptions, of course, since even I answer to a superior. But you do not strike me as someone who would propose unreasonable action.”

Well, here it went. “First, all operational commands are handled by me, at least in the South American region. I’m not stupid enough to run your whole invasion, but you yourself said I know this area better. I know what works, I know what will get you _willing_ allies. Give me your alien advisors if you want, or yourself even, but I get the final call on _all_ combat and intelligence operations here.”

“Done.” She said.

He cocked his head. That seemed way too easy. “Second, civilian targets are off-limits, and if your military has a problem with that, too bad. I don’t care if you slaughter the entire ADVENT leadership with syphilis, but you’re not going to attack people who are just caught in the middle. Obviously I’d like you to keep your experimentation to a minimum, but I’m not delusional enough to think that would actually stop, but stuff like that Sectoid Hive is not really helping.”

“It is unfortunate the Sectoids tainted the image of all of us,” Asaru sighed. “Experiments like that are done at the behest of the Hive Commanders, which the Collective does not regulate, for better or worse.”

“Sure,” Volk noted skeptically. “But you didn’t address what I said.”

“Ah, yes,” she recalled. “Not an issue. Unless the civilian population is compromised by psionics or organic programming, standard tactics are to avoid intentionally destroying civilian targets. With that said, we, much like ADVENT, do not prioritize civilians over our own forces. I hope that is an acceptable compromise.”

“As long as it’s actually followed,” Volk agreed. “Very little that can be done to help civilians in warzones. Not intentionally targeting them is likely the best that can be done.”

“War is a sad affair, but mitigation is something we can do to lessen the damage,” Asaru nodded. “Ah, I see you brought over some more of your Reapers.”

Volk snorted at the nickname. “‘Reaper’, something ADVENT calls us to explain the assassins killing their soldiers. The name is pointless, but it is amusing.”

“You have quite the title as well,” Asaru reminded him as Elena walked up with Hadrian and two other Reapers in full combat trenchcoats and gas masks. “I assume you didn’t pick it?”

“No,” Volk said as he turned his attention to Elena. “Anyway, representative, this is Hadrian, one of my Reapers.”

“A pleasure, representative,” Hadrian said, taking off his mask to reveal the face of a man likely just over thirty with black hair just visible under the hood. “I assume Volk has reached an agreement.”

“We’re working on it,” Volk told him, turning back to Asaru. “Now to continue our conversation, there is something else I want to make clear.”

Volk didn’t glance over as Elena executed Hadrian at point-blank range. Once he heard the body hit the ground, he continued. “While I can respect sending spies to infiltrate us, I will not tolerate being spied upon. Your spies may be professionals, but they are not Humans. They do not fit in, and we notice.”

Asaru didn’t even flinch. “How did you learn?”

“All supposed Americans know the history of the American Revolution, yes” Volk asked. “You know, the one where John Adams led the Americans against the British Redcoats?”

Asaru frowned. “That would be assumed.”

“No, they don’t,” Volk said, deadpan. “Because the Americans were led by _George Washington_ , not John Adams. A fact that he,” he nodded down. “Seemed to misremember, but was _very_ sure was correct.” Volk gave an ironic smile. “You could always assume people who don’t know that are idiots, but idiots generally don’t speak two languages, have skin that somehow doesn’t scratch, and can see things us normal Humans can’t.”

In reality, he’d discovered Hadrian was an alien from day one thanks to Elena, who simply told him that he was making micro expressions and expressing body language that was both not Human, and contradictory to what he was sometimes talking about. Keeping any important information from him had been child’s play, and the gaffes like the (true) American Revolution mishap were more of an amusement than anything else.

The other Reapers dragged the body away, leaving just him, Elena, and the being who was supposedly a representative of Asaru. “I will ensure the Zararch do not watch you or your people,” she finally said. “This wouldn’t have been a concern as an ally, but I can assure you it won’t happen.”

Well, if she was lying, it would be easy to figure out. “Glad to hear it. And finally, I want a catalogue of your weapons, equipment, and other assets so I know exactly what I can have to use. I also want operation documents for the larger invasion. If I’m going to help with this, I want to know everything that is relevant.”

“A catalogue can be provided,” Asaru confirmed. “I can only promise to speak to the Battlemaster on the matter of invasion documents. That is beyond my authority.”

He’d expected as much, and to be fair, it was a fairly long shot. But no harm in asking. If the alien hadn’t killed him yet, it was unlikely she would at this point. Now he had one last thing to determine, which was a risk, but considering he was making demands of an alien Collective that, no matter what they said, didn’t need him, he felt one more couldn’t hurt.

Especially since he was almost completely positive.

“Think that’s the major things out of the way,” Volk said, a hand resting on his pistol. “But right now I’m wondering why you’re still lying?”

She gave a laugh. “About what? While you may not consider my word worth much currently, I am owed at least a chance to prove it.”

“Not about that,” Volk said. “You aren’t an ambassador to Asaru. I don’t even think you’re real.”

“I shook your hand,” she reminded him. “While-“

A shot rang out and Asaru’s head snapped back, though the body stayed upright. Volk kept the pistol aimed at the figure, and sure enough, the figure oriented herself, looking amused with a bleeding hole directly in the center of her forehead where he’d shot. “You are very bold, Volikov,” she said quietly, the Russian accented voice gone, replaced with what he assumed was the _true_ voice of Asaru, a layered and melodical one that drew out the beginnings and endings of sentences. “You understand this could end badly for you?”

“Unlikely,” Volk stated as he holstered his pistol. “If you actually had an issue, you would have already killed me.”

“I believe that the right choice was made, contacting you,” she mused, the bullet hole in her forehead vanishing. “I am curious how you noticed.”

“Your mouth didn’t line up with what you were saying sometimes,” Volk said smugly. “And you kept referring to yourself the entire time we talked instead of ‘Asaru’s representative’, who I assumed wouldn’t be having the authority to give me what I asked, or speak with beings like the Battlemaster.” He smirked. “Always pay attention to the little things, Asaru. That I’ve seen what you Ethereals can do also helped, since I assume making an illusion isn’t too difficult.”

“More than you might imagine,” Asaru said dryly. “But I am impressed. Yet you still have not decided what you will do?”

“Assuming you keep your word? I’ll work with you,” Volk stated. “Give me what I need and I’ll give you this continent. Forget our deal and you’ll either never see me again, or you will kill me.”

“Very well,” she agreed. “You will have what you will need, and your requests will be fulfilled to the best of our ability. And concerning your operation in Uruguay, which I am aware of…” she stepped forward. “I believe I can assist with that significantly.”

Volk raised an eyebrow. “Go on then, I’m curious what you can do to help.”

***

_Abuja – Nigeria_

_11/9/2017 – 2:18 P.M._

Betos decidedly felt like an outsider at the meal for the talks. All of the Presidents arriving wore rather plain and generic black suits, aside from President Babikr Kone of Chad, who had a pistol openly strapped to his waist, in addition to an oversized knife. He was the one who made her the most uneasy. Tall and thinner than looked healthy, with a near-shaved head and tiny spectacles, he had talked the least so far, and seemed content to listen to the others.

He seemed dangerous.

Cameroon President Atem Esaba on the other hand didn’t seem too bad. He was the heaviest one, and definitely not in shape, nor carried weapons, but was the friendliest by far, even greeting her personally while the others had barely given a nod of acknowledgement. From what she understood, Cameroon was rather diverse as far as African countries went, which seemed to explain why Atem’s skin wasn’t as dark as the other presidents. Unfortunately, he did seem to be one of the few who actually took his responsibility to his citizens seriously, and the more she listened, the less appealing everything else looked. She probably should have gone there first. Atem seemed more trustworthy than Okon at least.

The President of Niger, Ezeudo Ifekristi, Betos wasn’t exactly sure what to think about, he was clearly once military, and was easily the biggest and strongest out of all of them. Since Niger was the source of multiple revolutions over mere decades…it did explain the heavily military-influenced nature of their government. He seemed fairly practical, which was not something Betos was sure was a positive here, but he seemed at least competent. He’d also shown up with the largest military unit, though for what purpose Betos didn’t know. Intimidation didn’t seem likely, nor did Betos believe he was in actual danger. If that were the case, he would have some kind of weapon on him, which he did not.

Very odd.

The conversation had danced around the actual purpose, with the various leaders making small talk about the state of their countries and ‘allies’. Not much of importance was shared, and Betos interpreted it as a way for all of them to speak for some time to reacquaint themselves, before actually turning to more serious matters.

That, it seemed, was going to happen now.

“We have spent enough time discussing trivial matters,” President Kone finally said, lifting a hand. “President Okon, let us move to the reason you have asked us here.”

“Yes, this matter is of some interest to me,” Ezeudo agreed, lacing his fingers together. “Though consider me skeptical.”

“As am I,” Atem added, setting his fork down. “Though I doubt for the same reasons.”

“The idea is not appealing initially,” Okon admitted. “Though I believe such a measure will be the only way to keep ourselves independent from the ADVENT tyrants. Marshal Betos here has made me aware of ADVENT’s capabilities.”

“You needed her to tell you ADVENT is dangerous?” Ezeudo grunted, shooting a skeptical glance her way. “Anyone who is paying attention is aware of what they can do. They wish genocide among the inferior. The Arabs were the first, and it is only a matter of time before they move to us. This is not new.”

“With respect, Mr. President, that isn’t exactly true,” Betos interrupted, wondering how he’d possibly gotten that idea. “ADVENT, as authoritarian as they are, do not plan for genocide. You have to know how their leadership thinks. Above all else they are practical. Your countries are in danger, but not from racism or some kind of ethnic cleansing. What you should be concerned about is when ADVENT decides that you are a threat, or that you are not doing enough to help them.”

At least she had their attention. “At some point, they are going to come to each of you. They will open with standard negotiations, but if you deviate from those in any way, or refuse what they offer, there is nothing stopping them from simply annexing you like they did with Canada. _They_ did nothing wrong except refuse to help.”

“The West has always ignored us,” Atem stated. “ADVENT will be no different. They do not care for us, nor we for them.”

“Do you really believe that?” Betos demanded coldly. “If it isn’t clear, ADVENT is _nothing_ like what you are used to. They won’t ignore Africa. You have _people;_ you have _resources_ ; you have _land_. ADVENT sees everything it doesn’t directly control as under possible risk of alien control.”

She paused. “The stark reality, Presidents, is that ADVENT cannot be stopped by one country, or even several. China is keeping its distance, and South America will likely capitulate soon as well. The Middle East was pacified in little more than a day. However, one continent would, if not stop them, give them pause.”

Her gaze swept across all of them. “Ultimately, the good news is that everything is secondary to the aliens, and that, more than anything, may be why ADVENT would back off from a united Africa.”

“Yet a united Africa poses a threat to them,” Kone said calmly. “You yourself stated they do not tolerate threats.”

“Immediate threats,” Betos clarified. “They consider China a threat. They considered the Middle East a threat. The reason they are leaving China alone is because they have not interfered with ADVENT and because a pointless Chinese-ADVENT war would drain resources from fighting the aliens. A conflict with a united Africa would be seen in much the same way.”

“Then if we do not interfere, they would leave us alone,” Atem said. “Cameroon has no interest in fighting ADVENT, nor interfering with their nations.”

“As Canada clearly shows,” Okon pointed out. “And even if they would, Marshal Betos has told me that ADVENT would not be above simply replacing the leadership with those friendly to them.”

“How American,” Ezeudo snorted. “But your point is made…Marshal…ADVENT will need to be handled soon. The question now is simply how we will prepare.”

“You fail to take into account that our countries are not prepared for a conflict,” Ezeudo told her, eyes boring into her. “Even now my country is plagued with dissidents; revolutionaries and terrorists.”

“On that we are agreed,” Kone nodded. “The terrorists in my nation are too much of a concern to ignore. Boko Haram is growing, and they may join with the rebels if they are not stopped. Public support is unfortunately growing, largely thanks to western propaganda.”

“Purge them,” Ezeudo stated. “There is no United Nations to manipulate the world into condemning defending our nations as we see fit. And ADVENT will not act, will they Marshal?”

“Unlikely,” Betos shook her head. “The aliens are their concern, and their official policy is not to intervene in foreign nations unless the situation is dire. Killing terrorists won’t be a concern.” She frowned. “How is Boko Haram still around? They were a jihadist group?”

“Once, but they are not nearly as fanatical as they once were,” Kone explained with a sharp grin. “Islam has faded in them like the rest of the world, and so they evolved. Their drive is no longer primarily religion, but nationalism, idealism, and anti-corruption.” He snorted at the last one. “They use the same tactics. Suicide bombers, assassination, killing of loyalists, but intermixed with propaganda and linking with lesser rebel groups to draw sympathy from the West against the ‘corrupt’ leadership.”

“You have a point, Ezeudo,” Okon nodded. “There is no UN to make empty threats, and all of us have been too gentle with these animals. Before we can think of ADVENT, we must bring our nations to peace.” He swept a hand towards Betos. “The Marshal has also provided me with the advanced weaponry used by ADVENT. Rifles and armor that far surpass the second-hand junk the West gives us out of _pity_. We have our own plants and our own manufacturers. There is no reason to not use these against the dissenters.”

“An excellent bargaining chip,” Atem said. “One you will not gift us unless we agree to your little alliance.”

“No, my skepticism is gone,” Kone suddenly said. “ADVENT has, for the worse, reset the world. The balance of power is abolished and consolidated with them. But _we_ are stagnant. This is more than simply opposing ADVENT, this is the chance to reset our _own_ continent. We gain nothing from remaining divided. The age of the small nations having any power is long past, only the large powers have any influence.”

He nodded to Betos. “She understands this. If we do nothing, at best we will continue to be irrelevant in the world, and at worst, we will be puppets of the West and our land, people, and resources stripped and used. They have always used us and we had little choice. No. The time for our own sovereignty should arise _now_.”

“Change cannot be a mere alliance,” Betos warned. “You need leaders. You need authority over the ones involved. Otherwise you will make the same mistakes the United Nations did; a body with no power or purpose but to keep the peace.”

“Indeed,” Ezeudo looked towards Okon. “How many did you invite to this discussion?”

“Out of respect, every nation in the continent,” he answered, lips curled into a small sneer. “Even the Western puppets. Better that some are not here. The inferior should not have a place in this alliance.”

“Without a doubt,” Kone agreed grimly. “Should this be done, it will be done _correctly_. There are those in government who will oppose this. There is little need to keep the illusion of their power anymore. They must die.”

“I presume the military will follow you?” Okon asked.

“They despise them, and our promise to wipe Boko Haram and crush the rebels will win him over,” Kone dismissed with a wave. “I am less concerned for my soldiers, and more for yours, Esaba.”

“That is unlikely to be needed,” Atem said. “Some of the minority blocs might have issues, but they will fall in line through a party vote. Otherwise they can be replaced. My commander will follow my orders.”

“Good, good,” Kone said with a nod. “Our laws will need to be… _unified_. _Rewritten_. Not by the incompetent fools in the congresses, but by us and our soldiers. We know what needs to be done, and they will not have a stomach for it.”

Betos frowned. “And what do you have in mind?”

“We will need resources to rebuild and improve our armies,” Ezeudo grunted. “We control deposits of metals, gold, diamonds. And we have thousands of so-called citizens who are too weak and poor to do anything. It is time we used them.”

“Agreed,” Kone said with a smile. “The mines and factories will need workers.”

Betos blinked. “Forced labor? You are _not_ going to enslave them!”

“Such an overdramatic reaction,” Kone chuckled. “I suppose that can be allowed for a competent woman. No, slavery of citizens is pointless, but they should put their lives to some use before they wither and die like parasites.”

“Slavery is better served as punishment,” Okon nodded. “Something fitting for the rebels and terrorists. Even the mere criminal in the jail would be better used for the state than simply storing them away.”

“While I agree with the concept of putting those in our nations to work, the Marshal has a point,” Atem said. “Taken too far, this could reflect badly on us. No one will care about the terrorists, as they should not, but as justified as putting our people to work is, it will be opposed.”

“They have nothing now,” Okon reminded them. “They simply want food. Shelter. We give it to them, and we have our workforce. It is the presentation that will be crucial, not the act itself.”

This was getting out of hand quickly, Betos did _not_ like where this was going, but didn’t know how to regulate four Presidents. “You should reevaluate what you are speaking about,” she warned. “Not even ADVENT would go as far as some of this.”

“We are not ADVENT,” Kone said simply. “I do not care what they would, or would not do. This is simply what must be done to protect ourselves, as you have rightfully pointed out. You understand that this does not happen without compromise.”

“I can refuse to help,” she reminded them.

“This is preliminary,” Okon tried reassuring her. “But none of this would happen without you. The expertise you provide will not be ignored, and you _will_ have a guiding hand in the course of designing the laws of this body.”

“We will need a leader of the Army of our soldiers,” Ezeudo said. “You know ADVENT. You know how they work. You have combat experience, and I assume you participated in the War on Terror and hunted down the Palestinian vermin in your own country. I would support your position.”

Betos resisted bristling at the casual dismissal of the Palestinians. “As would I,” Atem agreed. “An especially high honor, for both a non-African and a woman.”

“And as we are the first to join in this union, we will be the leaders,” Okon said to all of them. “There is little need to simply rally around one simply because of tradition. We four will unite this continent and bring a new era of African influence.” He poured some wine in his glass and raised it. “To the formation of the Sovereign African States.”

There was a chorus of affirmatives, and Betos echoed their movements, realizing that this seemed oddly similar to how ADVENT might have formed. Leaders coming together in secret; making alliances; planning radical change; all united under one vision.

And now the vision she had was slowly becoming warped into what could be a dark mirror of ADVENT itself. But she had no choice now. She was committed, and needed to make sure these men didn’t grow more drunk on power than they already were.

But she was in way over her head, and didn’t know what to do to help herself.

This might not have been a good idea.

***

_Bagé Peacekeeper Outpost – Brazil_

_11/10/2016 – 5:21 P.M._

Jaylin had never really thought she would be happy to be on guard duty, but here she was. The first attack in Bolivia was far from the last. Attacks had begun happening at seemingly random times, and they were definitely all from the same group. No one knew who they were or who they worked for. Some thought that they were working for Argentina or another South American nation.

Jaylin, and most other people, mostly believed they were just extremely well-equipped terrorists. Although there were a few things that gave her pause as she’d looked over the reports gathered from across the country. As one of the survivors of the attack, and subsequent ones, she’d received a promotion that had put her on a team of trying to figure out exactly who these people were.

It didn’t make sense.

They had yet to capture one, or even kill one, which was not something she’d expect from anything other than a foreign intelligence agency, and these people didn’t fit any known intelligence group. She was even slightly wary of assigning them the ‘terrorist’ label since to date, they hadn’t targeted any civilians, which were the most vulnerable and easy attacks to carry out.

They were missing very basic information. They didn’t know if these people were native, they didn’t know who was supplying them, they didn’t know their goals or motivations. No group had taken credit, and all countries had denied involvement. Jaylin almost wondered if this was the result of some private billionaire who hated ADVENT.

It would explain the equipment and skill, and why no one would take credit. No one really thought China was behind it, since relations between the countries had been thawing to a degree, and more importantly, China wasn’t stupid.

But Jaylin, nor anyone on her team, knew what else to do. She’d requested assistance from Stein, who had personally informed her that ADVENT Intelligence would be deployed to handle this, which Jaylin really thought was for the best. They were definitely handling something they weren’t trained or equipped for. These assassins blended into the forests and knew the area better than they ever could, and the Peacekeeper armor wasn’t strong enough to block an expertly placed bullet.

But they needed ADVENT Intelligence here sooner than later. While everyone was worrying about the aliens, Jaylin was honestly more concerned with just randomly getting shot, as were most Peacekeepers deployed here. Uruguay citizens were also hosting border protests daily, which wasn’t helping matters at all.

Were they _trying_ to make ADVENT mad?

“So you see the latest news?” Leon asked beside her as they stood behind the barricade that quartered off the Peacekeeper base, which gave them a view into the surrounding field. One of her suggestions to make ambushes impossible seemed to be working so far, since the base was in the middle of a place and they’d removed the nearby trees to give them plenty of open space.

Nothing was coming through without someone spotting it, and after the attacks, there was a 24-7 guard with Peacekeepers watching every angle, and even more standing guard over the Armory and vehicles. That was not including the other armed and on-duty Peacekeepers just wandering around and practicing on the mock range.

“Not really,” Jaylin yawned. “Unless you mean the Chancellor saying that the aliens are retreating and how great we all are?”

“Nah, a bit lower key,” Leon explained, tinkering with his rifle. “You remember that traitor? Betos?”

“I do,” Jaylin said, just the name itself beginning to make her irritated. “And also all the other two thousand or so traitors no one ever mentions for some reason.”

Jaylin knew she wasn’t the most empathetic person, but she could actually understand the issues some people had with ADVENT, which would probably shock some people. It was why she didn’t really mind the deriding words she sometimes heard directed at Saudia and other various figures. Far as she was concerned, that was fine as long as everyone did their jobs.

With that said, under no circumstances was that _ever_ justification for not only deserting, but going to a foreign nation and literally giving up state secrets. Jaylin was personally shocked ADVENT Intelligence had not just dragged her back and handed them to a probably gleeful Stein, but just shot her and be done with it. Literally no one would have complained. It was even worse that this was happening during an invasion.

So for her health, she hoped she’d never hear about the traitor again unless it was about her death or trial. “Well, she’s showed up with several African leaders,” Leon continued. “They announced the formation of the ‘Sovereign African States’ which seemed to be created in response to us. So that’s a thing. Four nations, but it’s drastically changing up the power dynamics there.”

“All thanks to the traitor,” Jaylin muttered, looking off into the setting sunset. “At some point we just need to take the bitch out.”

“Not saying I disagree with you, but there has to be a reason ADVENT hasn’t done anything,” Leon cautioned. “Although honestly, I can’t for the life of me figure out what.”

“Probably- hold up, something’s out there,” Jaylin interrupted, raising her rifle and peering into the distance where there was a figure walking up. Looked like the attire of the terrorists, but it was too far away. “Base Watch, unidentified figure north of my position. Possibly hostile.”

 _“Understood, sending reinforcements now and putting the base on alert,”_ the Base Watch, security managers of Peacekeeper bases, answered. _“Best not to take chances. Looking through cameras now.”_

The figure was definitely one of the terrorists, with the trench coat, hood and rifle. “Definite hostile contact,” she said. “Leon, you see it?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. “What is it doing?”

 _“Peacekeeper Tanika, can you check your camera,”_ Base Watch seemed confused. _“We’re not seeing anything.”_

Jaylin frowned, and saw two, three…“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said slowly. “And we’ve got bigger problems. There’s at least a half dozen coming up now. Opening fire-“

“Behind you!” Leon yelled and she turned around to see one of the terrorists _right behind her_ , rifle raised. Leon fired and hit the being right in the head, but it didn’t even seem to do anything. It was like the slug passed through thin air.

There were more shouts around the base as more of the terrorists had somehow managed to get in, prompting guards to open fire but to similar results. Leon fired a few more shots, but all of them passed through like mist. Now she was thoroughly confused and concerned. There was no way this could happen, and the being was just standing there, arms spread mockingly.

“Sniper!” One of the Peacekeepers yelled as the one he was standing beside just fell down with a bullet hole in his helmet. Jaylin immediately took cover behind the barricade, as the area was filled with even more of the weird illusion-terrorists that were literally appearing and disappearing out of thin air.

“What the hell is this?” Leon asked as the chaos only got worse, as several Peacekeepers were wounded by friendly fire from their own side from the ones that hadn’t figured out that some of them were illusions. And then it suddenly got much, much stranger. Before her eyes things started disappearing and appearing in different places. The barricade around the base melted before her eyes, and all the parked patrol cars just reversed direction, facing back instead of forward.

“We need to get everyone out of here,” she hissed into her helmet. “They’re doing something to our heads!”

 _“We’re seeing it too,”_ the shaky voice of the Base Watch communication said. _“Everyone around me just vanished even though I can still hear them. A general retreat is ordered.”_

More Peacekeepers were getting picked off from real attacks which Jaylin had no idea where the shots were coming from. She didn’t even know if the patrol car in front of her was real or not. She waved over some other Peacekeepers who were back to back and clearly unsure whether to fire on them or not. “Come on! To the car!”

She wasn’t the only one to have that idea, the rest of the armed Peacekeepers that weren’t getting picked off were either retreating to the vehicles or just running towards the city itself which was several miles away. Jaylin yanked open the door and climbed in, thankful that the keys were already inserted and ready to go.

Gunshots hit the patrol car, and she did her best to ignore them and luckily all of them missed. She drove forward, extremely glad she’d memorized the base and was easily able to follow the tracks from all the previous patrol car departures, even with things like the barricade gone. She was followed by several more cars, and a few explosions in the back indicated that at least a couple had been taken out.

She didn’t pay any attention to what was behind her, only gunning it forward to the city, and praying that whatever had attacked them didn’t follow. Whatever that was, there was no way they were going to be able to kill it.

ADVENT couldn’t ignore this any longer. They’d come under some kind of psionic attack, and either the aliens were helping these terrorists, or they had gotten some of their own.

Both possibilities were terrifying.

But both required a response. Immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be perfectly clear, nothing in this chapter has anything to do with the Bureau. On another note, I have brought on another beta, Edumesh, who is a reader from the Spacebattles forums and has provided a lot of useful feedback. As with all the people I bring on, I'm positive this will only lead to better chapters going forward.


	26. Crackdown

 

_The Chronicler’s Sanctum, Unknown – Australia_

_11/11/2016 – 7:17 P.M._

Abby finally allowed herself a brief moment of respite, as she washed her hands of the blood that had gotten on them. Treating the survivors had taken up all her time, where she’d tried her best to set broken bones and bandage the other less severe wounds. None of them had discussed what had happened yet, and right now most of them were in a sedated sleep thanks to the Chronicler keeping an unusually robust medical cabinet.

That done, she walked to the steel fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, not even wondering if she should be doing that in his own home, but she didn’t particularly care right now. Now she could finally look around and see just how strange this place really was.

The Chronicler’s home, for that’s what it had to be, was definitely in some kind of cave. The walls were angled, jagged, and a smooth reflective grey that was cool to the touch. She didn’t see any light sources, but everything was still illuminated enough for her to navigate, but at the same time not overwhelming.

What was maddening was that there seemed to be no pattern to the layout, and she still had yet to figure it out. There were multiple different rooms, all connected via stone corridors, and each room was obviously for one purpose only. There was a kitchen and living room-like area, with top of the line equipment and furniture, and a medical suite with a wide range of drugs and even an operating table which she’d put to use.

But what made no sense was that those were the only two rooms she’d been in, and hadn’t encountered any others yet…despite deliberately taking different routes, either by mistake or to see if there was a different path. That hadn’t become readily apparent until now, but unless this was just a two-room cave with no exit, she was missing something.

“Thank you, agent,” Harper said wearily, also walking up to her after he’d made sure his soldiers were sedated. “There are a few more survivors thanks to you. I wouldn’t have been able to help them enough.” He did look better, now that his own wound had been properly treated and there were bandages around his head and eye, in addition to his other superficial wounds.

He still looked awful.

She shrugged. “It’s my job. Or was anyway. So what happened?”

He sighed and leaned on the counter, looking off into space, arms crossed as he continued in a forced emotionless voice. “We were attacked, as you can guess. First it was Chryssalids, an entire swarm. We’d not seen any indication of loose packs before now, so it caught us by surprise. We lost a few to them, but Chryssalids die fairly easily, and the…infected were easy enough to put down.”

Abby nodded, pursing her lips. “And then that thing showed up.”

It wasn’t a question, and Harper wordlessly nodded. “Cut through everyone like it was nothing. Nothing we did could even scratch it. Bullets were just stopped, and our own gear was pretty much tissue paper against its sword. Within a blink, a dozen men were dead, and in another few seconds, another dozen. I ordered some of us to retreat and barricade ourselves in the barracks and command centers, thinking maybe enclosing it would give us a better chance.”

Abby recalled the carnage, even within the few she’d explored. “You were up against a psion. A powerful one at that. Nothing you could do. Trust me, I’ve seen how useless we are against psions.”

“Mhmm.” He looked to her. “So…did you know about Lucas? Assuming that’s his name?”

Her lips twitched. “For some time now. He asked me not to say anything. He doesn’t have a name as far as I can tell. Aliases at best. Calls himself ‘the Chronicler’. Make of that what you will.”

Harper let out a loud sigh, looking to the cavern ceiling. “Well, that explains a lot. Like how he’s always off on his own, or takes an interest in your deployments, and always seems to know everything. I just assumed he was good at what he did…”

Abby interrupted with a humorless chuckle. “He most certainly is. Just not in what you think.”

“So…why?” He asked, despair tinging his voice. “Why isn’t he with XCOM? Or helping us? He can’t actually think we couldn’t use this.”

“He doesn’t like the idea of working for anyone,” Abby said, grimacing as a cool breeze washed over them. “And he’s been helping, I won’t dispute that. Our major victories? You can thank him for that, just helping in the background. I don’t really know his motivations, but he does have a plan.” Her shoulders slumped. “I just have no idea what it is anymore.”

“I guess the question is what happens now,” Harper mused. “Unless he plans to kill us, his secret’s out, and I have no intention of keeping it from ADVENT. We could have done so much more if I’d known we had a psion, and even if he helped us, that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven.”

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose. For some reason, she didn’t think the Chronicler was going to like that. “Good luck. Want to walk with me? I want to try and map this place out. Maybe find some way to contact XCOM.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” he said, pushing himself up, and followed her into the corridor.

“Once we get out, do we just leave?” Abby asked. “With how many have died…”

“I won’t know until I can determine just how much of our network is compromised,” Harper answered. “At the very minimum…we won’t be able to recover for several months. Operations in the other Oceanic nations may be compromised as well. I think-“

He abruptly stopped as they stepped into a markedly different room, this one the largest of all. It was a perfect square, in the center was an elevated metal platform with a clear pool of water underneath. Along each wall were metal consoles of some kind, with screens that extended to the ceiling.

The entire room was filled with ambient blue light, and opposite them were two additional exits on each corner. “This is…interesting…” Abby said slowly, taking a cautious step forward. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

“Probably not,” Harper agreed, walking to the platform. “But I’m curious now.”

Abby followed him and walked onto the empty platform, looking around once on it and still not seeing what the point of it was. There was a small console on the corner, with buttons in some kind of language she couldn’t begin to decipher. It was definitely similar to the markings on his armor though. She cautiously reached to it and jerked her hand back as hundreds of micro-wire _things_ sprouted from in between the button, hovering in the air for a few seconds before moving back into the console. “What the fuck?”

“I think we should leave,” Harper said upon seeing that, his eyes darting around the room to the other consoles. “I do not like that.”

They quickly departed and walked into the leftmost corridor, and soon stepped out into a much smaller room with no exit. It was a simple rectangle, with a walkway with black water rushing underneath. At the end was a strange organic….pedestal, and on top of it was one of those psionic artifacts she’d seen the Chronicler use.

She frowned and took a step forward, wondering if it was another, or the same one. The blue globe rippled with an inner light, and the pedestal seemed to be clinging to it. The whole area seemed oddly sacred. “Look at the walls,” Harper said quietly. “What is this?”

She glanced to the walls and could swear the room got colder, and the sound of the water rushing became louder. On the walls were lines and lines of the alien text, over and under diagrams and markings depicting things she didn’t even know how to begin to describe. Some of the outlines looked like the orb at the end of the room, and there were even more shapes and figures. Pyramids, tesseracts, cubes, and things that didn’t seem possible to make.

Abby felt an urge to look at the orb more closely, as it seemed to be glowing brighter on the inside. “Agent, I don’t think we should be here either,” Harper cautioned as she walked forward. “This isn’t right.”

She ignored him, and kept walking forward slowly, and was now able to hear…things, just on the edge of her consciousness. She couldn’t be sure if they were her imagination or not, but it was something like barely perceptible whispers, muttering in alien tongues. The orb grew brighter as she approached, and the closer she got, the more she felt a presence.

It emanated from the blue orb, and it felt _old_.

“I wouldn’t touch that,” the chiding voice of the Chronicler warned, as he appeared right beside the orb. She suddenly shook her head, as if snapped out of a trance. The orb wasn’t glowing any brighter, and the room was silent.

“What was that?” She demanded.

“Something you would have regretted if you’d gotten closer,” he answered, walking up to her. “In simple terms, you would not be Abigail Gertrude any longer.”

“Hello… _Chronicler_ ,” Harper said as he also walked up, his face stony. “Thank you for helping.”

The Chronicler sighed. “You can feel betrayed if you wish; it is earned, but it was necessary. I cannot explain it to either of you, but you’ll have to trust me here.”

 _“Really?_ ” Harper demanded incredulously. _“Trust you_? Give me _one_ reason to do that!”

The Chronicler arched one snowy eyebrow. “Because I saved your life, and more importantly, I plan to avenge this attack. I would prefer to leave your mind untampered with, but if you force me, I will take appropriate measures.”

“I might just prefer amnesia to this,” he growled. “It’s nice you want to fight back, but we’ll see what ADVENT wants to do with you once we get in contact.”

“Harper…” Abby warned, seeing the Chronicler smile.

“Amnesia is a simple and unnecessary solution,” he said dismissively. “Think carefully, Harper. If I’d been so obviously helping you this whole time, not only would the Ethereals have figured out what was happening faster, it’s unlikely any of us would be here now. Furthermore, you have a poor understanding of psionics if you think I’m just going to risk someone in your state exposing me preemptively. Now.” He raised a finger.

“Everyone needs to think calmly and rationally about this. The alien retreated after I dealt severe injuries to her multiple times, and I was unable to kill her. Unfortunate, but she can be dealt with in the future. The Ethereals now know there is a psion here, which poses a problem for you.”

“And I assume you have a solution?” Abby asked.

“Yes,” he nodded. “You return to XCOM, and let me fight the war here. I assure you I can do a much better job, and keep at least a few Ethereals focused on me, while making sure they aren’t turning their power on ADVENT. The Resistance here was always going to be defeated, but I can keep the aliens occupied for as long as needed. Now, if you doubt me, I can prove it.”

Harper still looked angry, but his features had relaxed. “How?”

The Chronicler smiled. “I am going to attack Sydney.”

***

_ADVENT Command Center – Switzerland_

_11/11/2016 – 10:14 A.M._

The ornate and plush room always seemed like a waste whenever Saudia actually looked at it, especially when anytime she was in here, she was either staring at the TV or sitting around the table. Not actually using the admittedly nice and comfortable furniture. But during times like this, everything just faded into the background as the smoldering anger at what she was watching took precedence.

“I thought,” she said very slowly and quietly. “Luana was handled.”

The TV screen blasted a much, much different headline.

ADVENT INVADES URUGUAY. GOVERNMENT HAS BEEN TAKEN INTO CUSTODY.

Stein stood beside her, wearing simple military fatigues with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was clearly furious, which she only expressed through her stony face that Saudia had come to realize was something she only did when she was preparing to execute someone. Truthfully, Saudia was tempted to bring down the full might of the ADVENT justice system upon Luana. She’d certainly earned it.

However, justice would be determined by Stein. Still, this was unacceptable.

“I had thought I had made myself clear,” Stein answered, just as slowly. “She seemed to understand as well. I had thought the matter resolved. I was clearly mistaken. She is a problem now, and one I am going to remove.”

“Do it,” Saudia stated immediately. “I want this situation contained immediately. In the meantime, I need to address this myself. What are you planning?”

“Commander Christiaens just countermanded all of her orders, and has stripped her of her rank,” Stein said. “On the other hand, Luana is ignoring incoming communications from us, but her subordinates are keeping us informed. Director Falka is compiling a list of evidence.”

“Idiot.” Saudia shook her head. “What was she _thinking_?”

“She’s a warmonger,” Stein noted emotionlessly. “She’ll take any excuse. The Peacekeeper bases being attacked was the only thing she needed, despite the fact that there is no evidence that Uruguay is behind it. The survivors are being interrogated now, and what I’m hearing right now is that there is more evidence that the aliens are behind it than Uruguay.”

“Just what we needed,” Saudia scowled. “The media is already having a field day. We need to make a strong statement of our own.”

“She has done enough to constitute treason,” Stein stated. “She will be arrested, tried, and executed as an enemy of the state. Leave the administration of justice to me, Chancellor. We will need a new leader for Brazil in the meantime.”

“Just make sure you invite the media when you arrest her,” Saudia said. “And what is the status of Uruguay now?”

“All our forces were ordered back, but not before they inflicted severe casualties on both Uruguayan military and civilian targets,” Stein answered. “The Oversight Division will conduct a review, but I sincerely doubt that the fault lies with the soldiers. They were following the orders of an unstable woman we should have dealt with long ago.”

“Great,” Saudia muttered, turning on her heel to face Stein directly. “Find out everyone who signed off on this and administer justice. _Everyone_. I don’t want just Luana, but her staff as well. _Someone_ didn’t follow protocol, and there will be very public consequences. We do _not_ need a PR disaster right now.”

“This is already a PR disaster, Chancellor,” Stein pointed out. “We just need to mitigate the damage. I would suggest at minimum reparations for the families who lost members, and direct assistance in whatever they want. Make out a damn blank check to their government.”

“I’ll get it done,” Saudia promised, not looking forward to any of this. “The Commander is not going to be happy.”

***

_Barracks, the Praesidium - Classified_

_11/11/2016 – 10:47 A.M._

It was always an interesting day to wake up and hear that ADVENT had invaded another country out of nowhere. Oliver and a few other XCOM soldiers were seated around one of the Barracks TVs, watching the news silently. _“While ADVENT has released a statement calling the invasion a ‘rogue and unsanctioned operation’, it unfortunately does not erase the fact that the unprovoked attacks have left thousands of soldiers dead, and caused hundreds of civilian casualties. ADVENT has promised that the ones responsible will be punished, but at this point, there is some question as to if it will be enough.”_

Oliver almost rolled his eyes at that. News anchors annoyed him with their overdramatic speech, as if anyone rational would be thinking that right now. It would clearly have to be enough, because ADVENT certainly couldn’t bring people back from the dead. What ADVENT was going to do would certainly be important, but he knew at best this would be viewed as a mistake, and very little would actually change. It wasn’t as though nations were going to leave ADVENT. Worse, despite it being unprovoked, he was not unaware that there was a vocal group that advocated the hostile takeover regardless of justification, or lack thereof.

“Do they really not think Luana’s behind this?” Terli Caixeta, one of the actual Brazilian soldiers asked. “Is it really that difficult to figure out?”

“She hasn’t said anything, I think,” Anna said slowly, shaking her head. “I’d think right now she’s more concerned about convincing Stein not to arrest her.”

“Please,” Terli wrinkled his nose. “Marshal Luana would think she is completely justified in this. She’s a good leader, but you don’t put her in charge of a country because then she does stuff like _this_.”

“I really want to know how this even happened in the first place,” Sierra interjected. “Aren’t there specific protocols to make sure something like this _doesn’t_ happen?”

“Supposedly,” Oliver said, still watching the screen but not really listening. “The thing is we have no idea what actually happened. The only thing we know so far is that there were several large attacks on Peacekeeper outposts, and the next day Uruguay was invaded.”

“And now a bunch of people died for nothing,” Sierra said sourly. “If it were actually serious, ADVENT wouldn’t have pulled out literally hours later. But when your military is literally unkillable compared to whatever the hell Uruguay has, a few hours is all you need to completely decimate them.”

“I guess we’ll see what they do,” Anna shrugged. “Someone is probably getting executed for this. Invasions don’t happen without a _lot_ of approval.”

“I’ll be impressed if ADVENT does something beyond saying they’re sorry,” Sierra grunted, looking back to the TV screen. “Or paying the country with a few million Alloys. If they want to actually be different from the controlling totalitarians they enjoy being, they need to punish everyone involved.”

Anna’s lips curled into a smile. “Stein is a stone-hearted bitch, but this is the kind of stuff she loves. Say what you will about her, she won’t leave a criminal unpunished. I’ll say she’ll likely be willing to go against the Chancellor if needed.”

“We’ll see,” Sierra said skeptically. “I don’t really trust ADVENT to do the right thing here.”

“You know, all of this is distracting us from the more important question,” Terli said suddenly. “If Uruguay didn’t attack those Peacekeeper outposts…who did?”

***

_ADVENT Peacekeeper Compound, Brasília - Brazil_

_11/11/2016 – 11:02 A.M._

Jaylin didn’t have a specific clue as to what was going on at the moment. Upon reporting the attack, she’d been transported to the Brazilian capital and a few hours later transferred to the main Peacekeeper Compound, which was far more impressive and expansive than the ones she’d been in for the past few months.

Something was clearly happening beyond the attack, as there were an abundance of armed Peacekeepers, Riot Control, and she’d even seen some of the SSR speaking with ranking officers. If the SSR was involved…well, maybe the Peacekeepers were going to take the threat seriously. They needed to at this stage.

She’d been provided food, clothes, and other amenities, even if she wasn’t allowed anywhere unsupervised. The initial medical check had likely been more to check if she was mentally sound…which she was as much as she could be. The whole event felt like a bad dream, but she knew it was very much real. They hadn’t told her the casualties, but she imagined it was bad. The armor cam would probably tell the story better than she could.

Right now she was just sitting in an interrogation room in a wooden chair, facing one-way glass, and her arms resting on the wooden table. The security camera looked down at her from the corner, and she just stared up at it, waiting for something to happen. Finally the door creaked open and Jaylin straightened up, then shot to her feet when she saw who it was.

“Chief Stein!” What was actually happening? “How can I help-“

“Take a seat, Officer,” Stein interrupted sternly, her grey eyes unblinking as she stared at Jaylin with the detached gaze that was curiously intimidating. Stein was surprisingly fully armored, rifle strapped to her back, and pistol and baton on her hip. The scarred gray armor was polished to dimly reflect the harsh light from the ceiling. She didn’t have her helmet, but Jaylin thought she would get that when she needed it.

Her face was completely expressionless, and while Jaylin didn’t _know_ her well, she knew the more collected Stein was, the greater chance that something…important…was going to happen. Or brutal. No one had forgotten how she’d put down that riot. Jaylin complied and took a seat, nervous despite knowing she’d done nothing wrong. But Stein was a woman whose reputation and presence instilled at least some level of fear.

“You were one of the few to survive the attack on the Bagé Outpost,” Stein stated as she took a seat opposite Jaylin, resting her gauntleted hands on the table. “Explain what happened.”

Jaylin swallowed and gave a nod. “Yes. Around five in the evening, I was on watch and spotted several approaching figures. The terrorists we’ve been having trouble with. I informed the Base Watch, who questioned what I saw even though they sent reinforcements.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t showing up on their cameras I guess,” Jaylin explained. “Then moments later we were suddenly surrounded by the terrorists who’d somehow gotten into the base. Things deteriorated after that, and the shooting started. That’s when things got…strange.”

“I’ve looked at the armor footage from the survivors, including yours,” Stein said. “The reality paints a much different picture. There were several terrorists, but not the dozens both you and others claimed. It also doesn’t account for the strange actions taken, such as hiding behind non-existent cover, or claiming to see things that are, or are not there.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Jaylin defended. “That is what I saw. I don’t know how else to explain it. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what was going on. Base Watch was compromised or dead, so I found who I could and retreated. Whatever they were doing…it worked.”

Stein gave a single nod. “How familiar are you with psionics?”

Jaylin frowned. “Not especially, I know some things it can do. That alien in Japan was one, yes? Aren’t some XCOM soldier’s psions as well? Telekinetics, mind control and shields, right?”

Stein’s lips twitched in…amusement? “Yes…your story doesn’t make sense, but it correlates to other survivors, and fully fits the description of a psionic attack. These terrorists, they have never utilized psionics before?”

“No,” Jaylin shook her head. “Attacks have strictly been sabotage, assassination, and small-scale attacks. If they had psions, I would have expected them to use them before now.”

“I agree,” Stein laced her fingers together. “Which means these terrorists have somehow figured out how to awaken psions, or they are receiving alien support. Have you recovered or reported anything that indicates this?”

Jaylin shook her head once more. “No. But we have yet to capture one alive, or even recover intact gear. But they’ve never used plasma or laser weapons, nor special grenades. Their attire also doesn’t match alien clothing or armor. If they’re getting help from the aliens, it must be a recent development.”

“Troubling,” Stein looked her in the eyes. “Do you know if these terrorists are connected to any foreign power aside from the aliens?”

“If they are, we haven’t found any connection,” Jaylin confirmed. “We don’t even have names, structure, or actual specs on what they use, much less motivations or goals. Honestly, it’s more likely this is a privately funded group instead of one backed by a government. Quite possible a rogue intelligence or special forces agency.” Jaylin paused and risked continuing. “Frankly, Chief Stein, this is not something we are equipped to solve. This is something more for ADVENT Intelligence to investigate. All we can do is react and try to extrapolate from there. I’ve requested assistance before.”

“I’m aware,” Stein acknowledged. “However, there have been other matters we needed to focus on. However, this has now become a larger threat. You are certain it was only these terrorists who attacked, possibly with alien support?”

Jaylin frowned. “I don’t think we have enough information to say either way but…yes. At the very minimum it was the terrorists, and no one else. We don’t have enough to accuse anyone if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“A smart officer who doesn’t jump to conclusions,” Stein commented wryly. “Perhaps you should be in charge of Brazil. No matter. The situation has deteriorated since you arrived and we’ve attempted to sort out the mess. Your outpost was not the only one that was attacked. There were two others of equal size and along the border. All had survivors, and reported roughly the same thing you did.”

Jaylin didn’t know if the fact that she _wasn’t_ losing her mind was a good or bad thing. “Not good,” she muttered. “What’s our response going to be? And for me-“

“Director Falka is beginning an operation to find and kill these terrorists,” Stein interrupted. “This will be done with Peacekeeper and SSR support, and as you are the highest ranking survivor, with experience on these terrorists, you will be working with them. It is likely XCOM is also going to be involved, since this will likely have an alien component. I trust you are fine with this?”

It wasn’t as though she had a choice, but she was _definitely_ fine with it. “Yes sir. My partner was also a survivor and has similar experience-“

“Yes, he can stay on with you,” Stein preemptively approved blandly. “However, there is more you need to know. After you reported the attack, and more information came in, Marshal Luana took it upon herself to invade Uruguay in retaliation, and took the government into custody and destroyed much of their military.”

Jaylin straightened further and blinked in shock. “What? Did they actually find out-“

“No.” Stein stated flatly, almost hissing. “Marshal Luana simply acted in her own interest and stupidity, and in doing so, has created a major international incident. We have pulled out since then, but Luana has overstepped her bounds for the last time. We’ve been more lenient than we should have, and in a short time we are going to arrest her and place the entirety of the Brazilian Legion Military Cabinet under the control of the Oversight Division. The Chancellor wants this fixed personally, and Luana will be arrested, tried, and executed for insubordination and treason.”

She stood. “Suit up, you’re going to participate in this operation. I anticipate we’re going to need some protection from the crowds and media.”

Jaylin stood numbly as Stein left the room without saying anything else, and moved to follow.

This day had certainly gotten a lot more interesting.

***

_Executive Tower, Montevideo - Uruguay_

_11/11/2016 – 11:11 A.M._

Saudia believed that it would be prudent to speed up Gateway development, since it would certainly cut down on the hectic flights and trips when crises arose. After giving her brief update to the media, now she needed to meet with the Uruguayan government, who thankfully were all still alive, if a bit shaken.

She’d look at the reception to her speech once this was done, as she hadn’t had time to pay attention to the immediate response while she brought herself up to speed on the situation. Stein was getting ready to arrest Luana, and in the meantime, she’d personally try and smooth over diplomatic relations with Uruguay.

Kyong had assured her that he was perfectly capable of doing the same thing, but she had been able to convince him the optics would be much better if she directly participated herself. Her small entourage consisted of Kyong, Commander Christiaens, and the Chief Overseer Kevin Watkins. Saudia figured that since the Oversight Division was going to be getting their first major investigation, that it would be good to have him there to assure the President that this wouldn’t happen again.

The political response to the event had definitely been bad. Argentina and Chile had announced an alliance against ADVENT aggression, for all the good it would do them. The EU had universally condemned the attack, and for once public support was on their side. Even China felt bold enough to release a statement criticizing the standards that led to this, without necessarily condemning them.

The biggest problem was going to be the new SAS, who were almost certainly going to gain a few more nations into their little empire. Every time until now an operation of this scale and consequences had been justified, and it only took one mistake for people’s faith to be shaken, which was _not_ what they needed, and was going to be a blow to morale especially in the light of the victory in America.

Not unless they fixed this fast.

The Executive Tower of Uruguay was rather plain as far as government buildings went, but was nonetheless the seat of executive power in the country, and where President Luis Carvallo had agreed to meet them. The older and gaunt man looked suitably exhausted, even as he had agreed to hold this conversation. He looked fine otherwise, and his wispy grey hair was perfectly in place, but she didn’t fail to notice his nervous glances to her personal guard that accompanied her, and had visibly been relieved when they’d left.

In an ordinary office building, Saudia and her entourage sat at a thick wooden table, and on the other side were the President and some members of the Uruguay General Assembly, who were eyeing them with a mixture of suspicion and fear, which was admittedly for good reason. Once the door closed and both groups were alone, she decided to speak.

“Mr. President, I said this over our call, but I will repeat it again to apologize for the incident,” she said, keeping her voice clear and controlled. “This should not have happened, and it will not again. I promised to determine those responsible and suitably punish them, in addition to reparations for our error.”

“I will add my own apology,” Commander Laura added earnestly. “This was caused by one of my subordinates, who we have been too lenient to, and some of the blame for this falls on me.”

“We cannot bring back your citizens and loved ones, nor replenish your numbers,” Kyong added. “But there are things we can do to help your nation rebuild and heal. That is what we are here to discuss. This was our error, and we expect nothing in return for this other than a wish for you to understand this was simply a mistake, and one we will fix.”

“Words are nothing,” the woman to the President’s right spat, who Saudia recalled as Isabella Nores, President of the Chamber of Representatives. “You say you will fix this. How?”

“No, I want to know what you will do to the ones who invaded our country,” Juan Gaos, President of the Senate Chambers interrupted. “The soldiers who came and slaughtered our people?”

“The soldiers were following orders,” Laura answered. “They had no reason to believe the orders they were receiving were illegitimate. Punishing them will achieve nothing, and they already feel guilty for their role in this. I’m sure that your military advisors would say the same thing-“

“Not all of us are warmongering imperialists,” Isabella sneered. “We don’t make a habit of invading countries, and our soldiers are trained not to follow illegitimate orders. _Invasion_ is one of them. But I suppose it’s just something so familiar none of your soldiers question it!”

“We do it when justified, and we will not apologize for it,” Saudia cut off Laura before she could respond, lifting a hand. “This is a case where it was not. We won’t punish soldiers who followed their orders as expected. However, this was a failure through multiple chains of command, of those who _did_ know better. _That_ is what we can promise to fix.”

“Indeed,” Kevin continued, directing their attention to him. “You are likely not familiar with me, so to introduce myself, I am Chief Overseer Keith Watkins, of the ADVENT Oversight Division. My job entails ensuring that our standards are kept, and issues within ADVENT are discovered, investigated, and resolved.”

“With all due respect, I believe you do not have a good track record here,” President Carvallo said. “This was a systematic failure. One you failed to prevent.”

“To an extent,” Keith said neutrally, knowing full well he had recommended to Saudia before that Luana was not exactly reliable and should be replaced, but at least he’d kept that to himself. “Marshal Luana had technically not violated guidelines before now, which was why she retained her control. I am already working with the Congress of Nations to introduce legislation to refine the qualifications for dismissal. But ultimately, all we can do is work to improve in the future.”

He laced his fingers together, taking a brief moment to gather his thoughts. Saudia watched with approval as the former FBI Director held their rapt attention. He certainly could command focus, which was certainly essential in his new position. “As you are already aware, Former Marshal Luana Russo will be arrested within hours by Chief Stein, and she will be tried and executed for insubordination and treason. My operation will consist of the thorough interrogation and investigation of the entirety of the Brazilian Legion Military Cabinet, and however far down this goes. Given the seriousness of the situation, I expect the investigation to conclude within one month, and all those who are arrested will be tried, convicted, and sentenced to somewhere between five years, or executed. It is impossible to fully tell this early in the investigation.”

All members of the Uruguayan party looked surprised at his words. “While I can’t prove that this will achieve the results I promise,” Keith continued. “I will do my best to prove that I fully intend to find and punish those who have smeared our image and Directive we uphold. If you wish, I will keep the Uruguayan Government updated in every step of our investigation. While we will punish Former Marshal Russo ourselves, we are willing to negotiate the extradition of anyone we uncover during this investigation.”

“That is…generous,” President Carvallo said slowly. “You make very bold promises. I hope you will follow through on them. Chief Overseer, we certainly do wish to be informed of the results of your investigation.”

“Certainly,” Keith inclined his head. “Simply direct me to your point of contact, and I will personally ensure they receive it. With that said, understand that what they and you will receive is confidential and is not to be shared outside of those it is designated to. We take breaches seriously, and any leaks will result in the loss of your access.”

“That is fair,” President Carvallo nodded slowly. “Now what of the families of those you killed?”

“That is largely dependent on you,” Kyong said earnestly. “At the moment, we are willing to pay each family who lost someone in our attack nine and a half million pesos. The exact amounts can of course be adjusted depending on family size and situation. In addition, we are also willing to pay off all debts and schooling for their children, should that be applicable.”

 _That_ definitely shocked them. “That is nearly half a million US dollars,” Isabella said in amazement. “How can you afford that?”

“We control a majority of the world economy, in addition to our own currency,” Saudia answered. “While it certainly isn’t a substitute for the loss of a loved one, we can at least ensure that their family no longer has to fear monetary troubles. Do not concern yourselves with _our_ financial situation.”

In terms of monetary value, this was not nearly as much as they were thinking it was. The amount of alloys ADVENT had recovered from the most recent battles had already paid for this ten times over. Not to mention their economy was nowhere near what would be considered _healthy_ , making the investment not as large as it would be otherwise.

“In addition to the military damages sustained, we can of course assist in that as well,” Laura said. “We are willing to replace all physical assets with the highest quality weapons and armor of our own. We can’t replace your soldiers, but we can make the ones you have left equal to our own. Provide us with the equipment lost, and we will match it exactly.”

“This, of course, does come with a slight caveat,” Kyong said with a smile. “We don’t provide this easily, so we expect you to ensure that these weapons do not fall into foreign hands. What we provide you is for Uruguay – and _only_ for Uruguay. We expect you to keep our technology out of foreign hands, or we will be forced to reevaluate any deal reached. Is this a fair compromise?”

The three Uruguayans exchanged glances, some in mild shock and amazement. Good, that meant they were likely not going to make the political situation worse. “It appears so,” Juan said with a slow nod. “Once we reestablish our military structure and appoint replacements…we can discuss details.”

“Excellent,” Laura nodded. “Finally, this is simply an offer should the future require it. The aliens are a clear and present threat, even if it is not so apparent here. Your own opinions are not important. With that said, if Uruguay is under the threat of a foreign or alien power, ADVENT will be willing to provide military assistance to your country. In light of what has happened, I would understand if you do not trust us, but nonetheless, the offer will remain open should you request it.”

“Chancellor,” President Carvallo said, leaning forward. “What do you want from us? You would not do all of this for no reason, and despite what your people did, this is what I can only describe as overcorrection. No one acts out of altruism or compassion.”

“The reason is simple, Mr. President,” Saudia said, also leaning forward. “We pride ourselves on professionalism and legality. We do not act outside the law. We do what is necessary, nothing more. Mistakes like this go against our vision for Humanity, and are insulting to everyone who wears the armor and bears the flag. If we are to sustain ourselves and unite our species, we _must_ be held to a higher standard.”

She motioned to the table. “Change will not come unless forced. People like Luana are no longer acceptable in positions of power. Each and every one of them must be systemically purged and removed, and only the ones who can responsibly wield power should do so. I do not care about money. I do not care about repayment. A mistake was made, and we will need to fix it.”

Saudia made sure to look him in the eye. “If you really believe some repayment is due, acknowledge that we have fixed our mistake. Tell the world the truth, not what the media is turning it into. There is certainly a political element to our actions, but we did not need to respond in the first place. The minimum would have kept people quiet. But again, Mr. President, if we are to unite our species, we must hold to a higher standard, and that starts from within.”

“Well said, Chancellor,” Kevin agreed with an approving nod. “I am aware of the reputation organizations like mine have, where we’re simply only for show and the abuses of power go unchecked. But we are different, ADVENT is different. Now is the time we need to prove it to not just your country, but the world itself.”

President Carvallo nodded, and stood. “For now, Chancellor, you have convinced me with your words. I hope your actions follow suit soon, but for now it is enough. Your apology is accepted, and there is no doubt a population to address. I would ask that you join me in this.”

“Another speech before the media,” Saudia cracked a smile. “I would welcome the opportunity.”

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium - Classified_

_11/11/2016 – 2:16 P.M._

While the ADVENT invasion was certainly taking up the majority of global attention, the Commander was more and more convinced that the larger problem was the fact that three Peacekeeper Outposts had been destroyed, and the reports explaining what had happened indicated a very sudden and suspicious shift in how the war was going to be conducted.

“What do you think?” The Commander asked Aegis who stood with a tablet in his hand as he read the report the rest of them had. Patricia stood in the background, with Zhang beside her.

“Psionic attack likely,” Aegis mused. “Unlikely to be confirmed without a telepathic examination. But this is, if I had to label it, an attack by Nebulan. This is the kind of work she specializes in. Making beings see things that are, and are not there; spreading chaos and confusion; never showing herself. If she _is_ involved, then that is bad.”

“Aside from the obvious, how is this worse?” Patricia asked. “At some point we knew it was likely either her or Macula were going to become involved.”

“Because that means the Battlemaster has changed his strategy,” Aegis explained. “He’s no longer relying on blunt force. These terrorists that ADVENT has been fighting in South America, they have likely been subverted by her. They will become more advanced, and therefore, more dangerous. She will be sure not to leave physical evidence, and worse, directly assist in combat.”

“The bigger concern is when they start targeting nations,” Zhang pointed out. “They can turn them against each other; keep us fighting each other instead of the Collective.”

“Unlikely,” the Commander shook his head. “ADVENT Intelligence is watching all governments closely. The moment they start getting the merest hint of alien corruption, the country will be annexed. Taking control of various terrorist groups and using them gives them plausible deniability, and ultimately makes them easier to operate in compared to countries controlled by ADVENT.”

“Indeed,” Aegis stated. “However, Nebulan prefers working in smaller groups. She doesn’t utilize mind control maliciously, which indicates to me that she is not dominating these Humans, and instead working with them. Perhaps they have been assimilated into the Phantom Division.”

“Which is?” Patricia asked, frowning.

“Nebulan’s personal army,” Aegis answered. “Many Ethereals have them, and I suspect by the end, Humanity will fight each one. I unfortunately know little of it, as she kept much of it secret, as with most Ethereals, but I suspect it is largely composed of former Zararch agents and other modified Vitakara. She does not like Andromedons or Sectoids, and considers Mutons crude.”

“Former Zararch?” Zhang arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t mean ‘transferred’?”

“That would be more accurate,” Aegis corrected. “The point is that Nebulan does not rely on mind control to maintain her subordinates’ loyalty, which raises questions as to how and why these Human terrorists are working with her. She would not hide herself from them.”

“Assuming this _is_ her,” Patricia added. “Things like making entire buildings vanish and things just appear…Quisilia could likely do that.”

“Quisilia is more subtle,” Aegis dismissed. “If he wanted to attack, none would have survived.”

“Subtle,” Patricia muttered. “Even as he posts memes on Twitter.”

“Let’s assume we’re dealing with Nebulan here,” the Commander brought the conversation back on topic. “If she’s acting on her own, we need to start becoming involved. Once ADVENT sorts out this business with Uruguay, they will turn their attention to these terrorists. Zhang, I want you to prepare several agents for investigation.”

“That is not wise yet,” Aegis cautioned. “If you prepare agents, they will simply die. At minimum you need psions who can resist her illusions. It would be preferable if either cybernetic or genetic alterations were developed to negate her, otherwise you are throwing agents away.”

“Good point,” the Commander nodded. “Do you have any telepathic agents you can use?”

“Not here currently,” Zhang shook his head. “I don’t have many psionic agents to begin with. We need to make ADVENT aware what we’re dealing with here, otherwise they’ll face as much trouble as us.”

“The PRIEST Program is deploying now,” the Commander reminded him. “I’m sure they’ll be able to spare one or two telepaths to assist. And there is the Human element to deal with, which they don’t need psionics for.”

“I would not expect Nebulan to forget that,” Aegis warned. “The Phantom Division is extremely dangerous, and I do not know just what she has done to them. Psions they may not be, but any in the personal army of an Ethereal are far more dangerous than the standard alien.”

“I want to think you mentioned these personal Ethereal armies,” Patricia muttered. “But I somehow think that slipped your mind.”

“If it did, I did not intend it,” Aegis said, not sounding too apologetic. “If I didn’t mention it, it was likely because I really don’t know much about them, nor was it relevant.”

“Perhaps our new Andromedon allies could assist on this,” Zhang pondered, rubbing his chin. “I expect they have their own idea on how to counter psionics.”

“It is unlikely,” Aegis dismissed. “They are unlikely to stop something they cannot use themselves.”

“I’ll make that assessment for myself,” the Commander said dryly. “In the meantime, I should check in with Saudia and see how she’s resolved the Uruguayan situation.”

***

_Unknown Location – Argentina_

_11/11/2016 – 3:28 P.M._

Volk was impressed at just how effective the aliens were at constructing entire bases out of practically nothing. He had realized early on that these were _not_ the standard aliens he was dealing with. To begin with, every single UFO that had arrived had been visibly cloaked, and Asaru had assured him that she wasn’t using any telepathy, as that would be pointless.

He wasn’t sure he believed that, but it was minor at worst.

The UFOs ranged between large transports, and small troop carriers. They weren’t the standard UFOs either, the shiny circular ones. They were distinctive, and he suspected Ethereal. The transports reminded him of barges. Black rectangles that had nothing but space and a small bridge. The troop transports were also similarly shaped, but they were more angular, and didn’t…land.

They were more akin to dropships, flaps opened up on the underside and two dozen Vitakara at a time jumped down onto the ground. Volk wasn’t a xenobiologist, but he was fairly sure that dropping from twenty or more feet would cause broken legs, but none of the aliens had even so much as acknowledged the fall.

Considering XCOM soldiers could do unnatural stuff like that, he supposed it wasn’t surprising that the aliens could do that as well. As for the aliens themselves…they were strange. He wasn’t sure if there really _was_ something off about them, or because he’d really not interacted with any before.

All of them were the one race of Vitakara; Vitakarians if he remembered. The ones that looked oddly like Humans. They were at various heights and body types, both male and female, but all of them seemed to boast a strength that was comparable to a small forklift. That they didn’t have machinery didn’t seem to deter them as they worked and handled alloy beams and sheets with almost no trouble.

The other odd thing was that their eyes were noticeably altered. He knew that Vitakarian eyes glowed blue for some reason. These glowed varying shades of purple, that only got darker as the sun set. None of them wore armor, only some kind of form-fitting grey jumpsuit that lacked any sort of identifying mark or insignia.

And he had stood there initially, not sure what to do until he saw some of the Vitakarians working on laying out a room, following a holographic projector. He could definitely follow directions, so he’d instructed his people to help the aliens. If they were going to be working with them, they might as well get to know them some.

Luckily the aliens could speak English, and figuring out that his strength was inferior to their own, let him do most of the precision work with tools that he could only describe as flash-welders and a cement gun. It had taken a few hours, but they’d completed the room, roof and all, and were now taking a short break, and he decided to see just how it would turn out.

It was flat, and was definitely going to take up the majority of the clearing. All one story, and frankly boring and uninspired for the most part, which he didn’t care about. Practicality was king as far as he was concerned. But the skeleton was complete, and all it lacked now were internal systems. Or at least he thought so, he had no idea what they were planning for this.

“Impressive, isn’t it,” a deep voice interjected, and Volk turned to see quite possibly the largest Vitakarian he’d ever encountered.

 _Large_ didn’t quite do it justice either. The Vitakarian towered over him, standing a minimum of eight feet, and with the obvious strength of a bodybuilder on steroids. He wore the grey jumpsuit the rest of the aliens wore, and his skin was a dark grey, approaching a shade of black. The most noticeable feature was his face, or more specifically, his eyes which were not even a blue or purple, but a blazing and intense red.

His smile was quite off-putting as a result.

Volk eyed him warily. “You build fast.”

“If pressed, we can,” he agreed. “I am Zar’joreal’mattis, I believe we spoke before when you contacted us.”

Ah, now Volk recognized the voice. Although the hologram had failed to convey some obvious physical features. “Joreal then, right?” Volk asked. “If I remember, you use the middle name.”

“Exactly,” Joreal confirmed, still with the smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Asaru wouldn’t work with you if she wasn’t confident in your skills.” He extended a hand, which Volk took after some brief initial surprise. His own hand was dwarfed in the much larger alien one.

“I suppose you would know more than I do,” Volk said. “No offense intended to her, but I’m innately skeptical of those who literally promise the world.”

“Which is fair,” Joreal acknowledged. “But I can affirm everything she said to you. She does not lie to her allies and friends.”

“Awfully quick to just accept us,” Volk noted. “I don’t disapprove, but I’d have expected some measure of alien superiority. Your friend in Japan for example.”

Joreal laughed. “Caelior is, to borrow some of your words, a little arrogant bitch. No one with any kind of authority gives him serious consideration. He is powerful, but his power is simply a tool those smarter than him use. If we were actual alien supremacists, it would make our Collective a little difficult to form, wouldn’t you say?”

A friendly alien, something of a surprise. “Interesting. Although for a supposedly friendly collective, your diplomatic skills are apparently…” he raised an eyebrow. “ _Lacking_. Making an enemy of an entire species speaks to some mismanagement at best.”

The alien gave him a thin smile. “I believe Asaru has given…reasons…for that mistake. But don’t think that all aliens are quite like Caelior. You probably wouldn’t want ADVENT for example, to punish entire countries for the actions of a few, to put this into perspective.”

“So how much do you actually know?” Volk asked curiously. “What do you even know of _our_ reasons for fighting ADVENT?”

“More than you probably think,” Joreal answered. “I prefer to do my own research before coming, which incidentally, was a somewhat condensed version of your species history. Your kind really are fascinating, even compared to others in the Collective.” He smiled. “However, for your original question, you despise authoritarian governments, of which ADVENT is one. But more than that, you hate the abuse of power, which is why you don’t just fight ADVENT. An admirable goal.”

“Glad you understand that,” Volk said with a nod. “Although I’m surprised you find us more interesting than the other aliens, if I understood correctly.”

“You would not be if you knew the history of the others,” Joreal said dismissively. “Andromedons have nothing in their history but war, which honestly gets old after the first three millennia, and Sectoid history is so dry aside from one or two fascinating events. Even our own history is mundane, and only becomes interesting once we unified.” He glanced up contemplatively. “Although, that of the Oyariah and Sar’Manda is an exception. And some parts of the early Borelians.”

“What of the Ethereals?” Volk asked.

“I’m afraid Asaru has yet to divulge the secrets of the old Ethereal Empire,” Joreal admitted. “It is unlikely she will for some time.”

Well, even that was interesting. So the Ethereals _had_ an Empire, which implied that they _didn’t_ any longer. Which in turn implied that something had destroyed it. Or perhaps they had destroyed themselves?

An interesting revelation nonetheless. “So is this your first time on Earth?”

“No,” he answered knowingly. “I’ve spent some time on this planet, largely to acquaint myself with how Humans…” he motioned with a hand. “ _Work_ for lack of a better word. It was more complicated than I anticipated, and in ADVENT controlled territory I had to be especially careful.”

“I’m very curious how you managed that,” Volk commented. “You do stand out, ignoring the glowing red eyes.”

“Oh, I don’t use this form,” he chuckled. “Far too obvious, even if I relied on holoprojection. No, this is simply the one I prefer. When I was on Earth I was much smaller. And looked more Human. And I can assure you I was a far more convincing one than that fool Zararch agent you killed.” He wrinkled his nose. “How the details of the American Revolution are unknown to them is pathetic. The Zararch needs to reevaluate their standards, and not send junior agents to important assignments on this planet.”

“I see you’ve acquainted yourself, Joreal,” the voice of Asaru said, and Volk turned to see a Vitakarian woman walk up, no longer the Human model he’d seen. “Good. You two will be working together, so I expect excellent results.”

Joreal bowed his head. “Of course, Asaru. Once the base is established, we will begin our operations, with your assistance, should you offer it.”

“I assume your Elena has reported my contributions,” Asaru turned to him. “Already our attacks have forced an international incident which ADVENT is rushing to fix.”

“Argentina will be thrilled,” Volk sighed. “I would have preferred we didn’t provoke an invasion, but at least this will get Luana out of power. A shame. I wanted to kill her myself.”

“I have been following that development,” Joreal added. “Assuming ADVENT is intent on ‘fixing’ this mistake, it will lessen their efficiency for some time if the Oversight Division is working through the Brazilian Legions. This gives us time to…prepare.”

“We shouldn’t be worrying about ADVENT right now,” Volk interjected, directly to Asaru. “Useful as you were in the battles, you aren’t exactly subtle. It will take ADVENT about two seconds to figure out that was a psionic attack, and another two to determine it was likely alien. We’re not going to be getting the SSR, Lancers, and whatever else they have, but also XCOM. This is not going to be as easy as you think.”

“ _Easy_ ,” the figure of Asaru hooked an arm around Joreal’s massive one. “ADVENT and XCOM are not experienced in fighting a telepath, regardless of any _assistance_ they have. This will likely be a challenge, though not one that has a chance of victory.” She smiled wider. “Let us first _see_ the vaulted effectiveness before becoming concerned about it.”

Volk gave a lopsided smile. “That is not a bad idea, though I have a rule not to underestimate opponents. Especially ones that control a good portion of the world.”

“For now,” Asaru said. “We will see how true that holds in the coming months.”

***

_Palácio do Planalto, Brasília - Brazil_

_11/11/2016 – 4:08 P.M._

Stein was fully intending to make a statement.

Jaylin was joined by nearly one hundred other Riot Control Officers, most of whom were stationed in formation around the place where the active President of Brazil worked, a building which had some unique architecture, like the massive solid overlay of the building itself, a more traditional small skyscraper with glass windows underneath, if a bit wider than normal.

The media of nearly every major and local outlet was almost salivating as they watched more and more Peacekeepers arriving, their TV anchors speaking frantically to the cameras about ‘developments’ and occasionally showing the ever-growing crowd of people showing up. Luana’s rise to power had not been popular, and even the rumor that ADVENT was going to remove her was enough to get entire crowds, who admittedly stayed a healthy distance from the Riot Control line, knowing that they wouldn’t hesitate to put down disobedience.

Within the perimeter of Riot Control Officers was where the true operation was being prepared. There were fifty SSR soldiers, in their imposing black armor that made her own feel inadequate. It was complete overkill, but again, Stein was making a statement. In addition to her own personal guard of Riot Control Officers, of which Jaylin shared the honor with three others, there was team of a half-dozen Molosser Handlers, with the largest dogs Jaylin had seen.

She’d known about them, of course, but hadn’t known the Peacekeepers were using them, let alone actually _seen_ one. The size she had underestimated considerably. The grey-furred hounds could probably take down a Muton, and they were supposedly modified to be immune to projectiles…she was keeping one eye on them, because just one look at their fangs made her nervous.

Still, the way they rolled over for their handlers who rubbed their bellies and gave treats was cute.

If that wasn’t enough, Stein had also brought in another hundred State Officers, which she likely intended to use to secure the various floors, which Jaylin personally felt was overkill again, but she was not the one in charge. Jaylin also suspected that this wasn’t only to make a point, Stein just _really_ didn’t like Luana, which wasn’t necessarily surprising.

“March.” Stein commanded, taking her place at the front of the Peacekeeper formation, and Jaylin by her side, began walking forward. Their riot shields were up, and Jaylin had the baton in her hand, set to lethal mode. Stein had been very clear about their purpose. Either the ADVENT guards inside would submit to their authority, or they would die. As far as she was concerned, failure to follow the commands of the Chief Peacekeeper herself was grounds for direct treason.

Jaylin didn’t entirely disagree, although capture might be a more preferable goal.

She certainly wasn’t afraid of dying, since they were flanked by the SSR, who had their rifles raised. Stein reached the glass door, and stood outside it. She pressed a button on her gauntlet, and began speaking, her message being transmitted to all nearby ADVENT equipment. Everyone in the building would hear it.

“This is Chief Peacekeeper Stein,” she began, voice flat and emotionless. “All ADVENT Personnel within this building are ordered to stand down and assist us in the arrest of Former Marshal Luana Russo. Failure to comply is grounds for treason and all attempts to hinder our operation will result in immediate execution. To former Marshal Russo, turn yourself in immediately and prepare for your arrest. This is your only warning.”

She cut the open channel, and moved to the door. “Move in.” Stein opened the unlocked door and they entered the first floor, where there were several dozen ADVENT soldiers who were standing alone, their weapons and sidearms on the ground or holstered, and some of them with their hands in the air. Good, none of them were stupid.

“Chief Stein,” one of the Officers approached as the State Officers began securing the rest of the first floor. The SSR, stayed directly behind Stein. “We are willing to provide whatever assistance needed. The Marshal is on the third floor, last I heard. The Presidential Office.”

“Appreciated, Officer,” Stein stated, inclining her head. “However, everyone in this building is now subject to the Oversight Division. Exit the building and they will take you into custody. If you have done nothing wrong, there is little to worry about.” Not sparing another glance, she pointed to the stairs. “Move up and we will secure the former Marshal.”

“Yes, Chief!” They all shouted, and began the march up the stairs. All things considered, Jaylin thought it was going rather well so far. In very little time they were on the third floor, in an open lobby area that had the white tiled floor that was so common in this building, and the fairly high-end furniture.

The Presidential office was not far forward, and along the way there were cases of various pieces of art. The ADVENT soldiers on the floor were similarly disarmed and submissive to the Peacekeepers, and Stein ignored them this time as the SSR gave them instructions. There were four ADVENT soldiers outside the doors to the Presidential office, all with their weapons pointed at the door.

“Former Marshal Luana and her staff have not left the room,” one of the soldiers said as they approached, lowering their weapons and stepping aside for Stein. “We have ensured they cannot exit, though we do not know if they are prepared to fight or not, nor the status of their arsenal.”

“Good work,” Stein acknowledged. “Report to the SSR outside. Your actions will not be ignored here. We will handle it now.” She gave a brief salute, which the soldiers returned quickly before filing away.

“Are we marching in?” Jaylin asked as Stein stood in front of the double doors for a few seconds.

“Let me see,” Stein tested the door handle. “Locked,” she reported with almost grim amusement. “Break it down and execute any who open fire.”

“Yes, Chief Stein,” the heavily synthesized, almost mechanical voice of the SSR soldier stated, as four of them stepped forward, some kind of charges in their hands which they attached at the corners of the doorframe, and over the handles themselves. “Stand back,” the one SSR soldier warned as she pulled out a detonator. “Prepare for hostile fire.”

The door imploded inward with some startled shouts from the inside. The dust had yet to clear before the SSR soldiers charged in two at a time, subduing the first targets they found, shouting “Target suppressed!” for each unarmored officer they pinned to the ground. Once there were twelve SSR soldiers inside, none of whom had fired a shot, Stein and her Riot Control guard followed suit.

The Presidential office was very open and bright, with white tiles and a nice office desk by the windows. The majority of Luana’s staff were sitting on couches or standing, looking rather worried, as they should be. “Take them into custody and take them to Oversight,” Stein ordered, as she focused on the cause. Luana stood in front of the window, fully armored and helmetless, her back still to them.

Four additional SSR soldiers followed Stein, their weapons drawn and aimed at Luana, even as she made no effort to act against them. But the SSR didn’t take chances. “You could have knocked,” Luana said, an undercurrent of amusement in her voice. “I rather liked this office.”

“You should have come down and turned yourself in,” Stein retorted, stepping forward. “You have no one to blame for this situation but yourself, traitor.”

“Traitor?” Luana turned around, looking more weary than anything. “Call me insubordinate if you wish, but a traitor I am _not_. Nor will I apologize for my actions.”

“You invaded a country,” Stein said flatly. “Not only that, under fabricated pretenses. You betrayed our Directive, and ignored the chain of command. You are a traitor to ADVENT.”

“No.” Luana growled. “I was simply taking initiative. Ultimately, does it matter what the reasons are for bringing these pointless nations under us? _That_ is our goal, is it not? ADVENT will control this world, and we have nothing to gain by tolerating these independent states.”

“Incorrect,” Stein answered. “We will unite Humanity, but it will not be solely by force. We are _better_ than imperialists, nor are we warmongers as you are. We act if it is _justified_ , no more, no less. If that means the independent states survive, so be it. Should we abuse our might, we are no better than the Nazis, Soviet Union, or any other tyrannical power in our history.” Jaylin imagined her lips curling up in disdain. “There is no place for people like you in the new world. Submit yourself for arrest.”

“And you are willing to weaken us in the eyes of the world, just to appease one minute country?” Luana sneered. “I’ve watched your pathetic response. You’ve bent over backwards and shown weakness to the world. We were feared for good reason, and now ADVENT plays politics like the UN.”

The woman was delusional, and Jaylin wanted to give her a good whack on the head with her baton. She saw some of the other soldiers similarly tense at the utter crap she was spewing. “That,” Stein practically hissed. “Is because of _you_. Unlike you, ADVENT will admit and fix our mistakes. If that _weakens_ us, than so be it. But I will not ask again. Submit yourself for arrest.”

“So you can parade me before the media, yes?” Luana mocked, crossing her arms. “If you intend to try me for treason, the sentence is usually death. Why shouldn’t I just force you to kill me now?”

“Because if you really desired death, you would have killed yourself already,” Stein stated, stepping forward. “You will not force me to act because I will simply kill you, and you _do not want to die_. Not yet. No, you want me to make you a martyr, as if that would happen.” She raised a finger. “You are not worth the effort. You are nothing but a criminal, and you will be tried, convicted, and executed as the piece of filth you are.”

Handcuffs ready, Stein stepped forward, and Luana pulled out the baton she had at her waist, set it to lethal mode and, spikes angled and primed, gave a swing towards Stein, who responded with a deflection with her own baton. Luana had clearly not practiced much, and it showed as Stein disarmed her by hooking the spikes in her own and twisting it out of her hand.

The SSR fired in unison, and she fell to the ground in pain, bleeding from the knees. At the same time Stein trapped the arm that had held the baton and placed her pistol to the elbow and fired, blasting the joint apart and eliciting another scream. She looked down at the legs and fired two more shots, permanently destroying the kneecaps and turning the traitor into a sobbing wreck.

Stein ignored her screams of pain and proceeded to handcuff the arms, regardless of injury, and grabbed the woman by the back of her collar and hoisted her off the ground. “I don’t think she can walk, sir,” one of the SSR politely noted. “We’ll have to carry her.”

“No,” Stein disagreed. “She will be dragged like this. Let the world see what happens to traitors, and let her be a warning to others in ADVENT who believe themselves above the Law.” With that Stein began walking away, the former Marshal firmly in her grip, leaving trails of blood in her wake as she was dragged across the pristine floor.

Jaylin shook her head and followed, not exactly knowing if she should take pleasure from the woman’s screams of pain from each bump as Stein dragged her down the stairs. But she couldn’t find it in herself to feel sympathy from her.

The woman had broken the law, and now she would be punished for it.

***

_ADVENT Busan Command Base, Busan - South Korea_

_11/13/2016 – 12:07 P.M._

“[I think things are getting better,]” Duri told Sandara. “[If we can push them back in America, then it bodes well. You should see some of the defenses here.]”

 _“[I’ve been seeing the same thing here,]”_ his wife agreed. _“[The towers. Outside the city they’re making trenches, always with lines of volunteers. We help out wherever we can.]”_

Duri smiled, glad that Sandara wasn’t quite as nervous as she had been. He was even happier to hear her and the girls helping. “[They definitely appreciate that. I assume you’re staying in Seoul for the time?]”

She glanced off the camera. _“[For now…I don’t like the idea of going north, and we’re not in any immediate danger. There are evacuation protocols in place if we need it. If we’re in danger, we’ll leave. Right now they’re keeping all of us – civilians – in the center of the city. Everything is regulated and managed. It’s well done, and the girls still have classes, but it’s different.]”_

Duri nodded. While he’d initially thought they’d be safer in the North, that was when he’d been more concerned about how ADVENT could hold on. In their recent discussions, they’d talked about it more rationally, and with ADVENT lessening the urgency for evacuation, they’d mutually decided that it might be best to stay put for the time.

It was also unlikely that as long as they were in potential war zones, that they would keep civilians on base housing. They needed it for soldiers, and it exposed them to unnecessary danger. He knew she would be treated perfectly fine. “[The girls are settling in then? They sounded fine to me.]”

 _“[Yes, thankfully,]”_ Sandara cracked a smile. _“[They think you’ll be a hero after seeing the American soldiers raise the flag over Las Vegas. They’re a bit more hopeful, which is a relief. They’ve made some more friends too, and I’ve started to socialize a bit more. It feels better knowing I’m not the first to…well, adjust to this.]”_

“[I’m glad to hear it,]” he said sincerely. “[Time you broke your anti-social habits.]”

She sniffed. _“[Says the man who’d barely talked to a girl before me.]”_

Ouch. “[Point taken,]” he said dryly, hearing a beep. “[I’ll talk to you again soon. Love you.]”

 _“[I love you too,]”_ she answered. _“[See you later.]”_

He stood and exited the room, letting someone else use it. The on-base activity was unabated, since they were, at some point, likely to be attacked. But if the aliens had wanted to have an easy victory, that time had long since passed. ADVENT was _very_ entrenched now. The entire beachline was a massive trench, dotted with Flak Towers and barricades. The islands by Busan were fortified barracks with dedicated divisions, also dotted with lines of defenses and Flak Towers.

That was to say nothing of actually marching into the city itself, which was a mixture of trapped streets, barricades, fortified buildings, and other traps ADVENT had been laying and creating non-stop since they had been marked as potential targets. It was difficult to fortify the _entire_ city, of course, but ADVENT was doing their best, and if given enough time…well, they might do it.

In short, the aliens were going to need a miracle or an Ethereal to get through it.

So right now, he just felt like watching the Engineers transport massive weapons through the base, overlook schematics for more defenses, or toy with their SHIVs. He tried to temper her confidence, but the recent victory in America had given him what might be considered unreasonable hope. There was still that alien that threw around carriers like toys, but then again, he’d wondered if the Battlemaster could be beaten, and he had been.

Not killed, but it was a start.

“Good chat?” Beatriz asked, walking up, not in armor, but her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder.

“Always is,” he answered. “Mostly recovered now?”

“Yes sir,” she rolled her shoulders. Beatriz had officially recovered a few days ago, and was now getting back to her full strength and speed. “Wonders of ADVENT medicine. I would have been out for much longer without…whatever they did.”

“Hopefully you’ll have a bit longer to recover before we’re attacked,” he said, leaning against the concrete wall of the barracks.

“You think we will be?” She asked. “They seem to be having problems in America. Maybe they’ll want to focus there?”

“Maybe,” Duri shrugged. “But I somehow think that if they wanted to have more than one focus, they could. Korea is the next logical step in that…and they wouldn’t ignore here.”

“Right,” Beatriz’s face grew a bit grimmer. “So. I need to apologize. I handled what happened in the battle…badly.”

Well, it appeared they were going to have that talk then. Truthfully he’d half-forgotten it, half put it off since there were other things to focus on. But her bringing it up unprompted was good. He turned to her, noting that she definitely seemed somewhat self-conscious. “You didn’t lose it completely. Which I suppose is a good thing.”

She swallowed. “Yes. Mostly because you yelled at me. I don’t handle death well, especially with people I know.”

Duri appraised the smaller Hispanic woman. “I don’t think any of us want to get accustomed to it. With that said, you can’t let it affect you as badly as it did.” He raised a hand as she opened her mouth. “You don’t need to tell me if it’s personal, that’s not my business. But it is your responsibility to get it sorted out. If you think you need to work some things out, that’s what the counselors are for.” He gave a lopsided grin. “I’d like to not rely on me yelling at you. I don’t like it.”

“Yes sir,” she nodded, apparently almost expecting worse. “You won’t have to worry about it again.”

“All I need to hear,” he agreed. “Hopefully we won’t be in that position again.”

“Being chased a horde of aliens and a psionic necromancer?” She said sarcastically. “I hope not.”

“I don’t think those were people,” Duri chuckled. “But it could be worse. We could have had to listen to him speak and give more praises to the glorious Creator.”

“Don’t forget that he’s the Creator’s Greatest Champion™,” Beatriz snickered. “As terrifying as it was, in retrospect some of it is funny. He sounded like he read all the lines that are supposed to be intimidating, but really aren’t.”

“To be fair, I think he relies more on his psionics to add the intimidation,” Duri acknowledged. “I wonder if the aliens get sick of it too.”

“I wonder,” she mused, looking back to the busy ADVENT base. “You think they have anything we do? Cities? Families?”

Duri shrugged. “I don’t know. Not really something we need to worry about. We just know how to kill them.”

“True, true,” Beatriz agreed with some hesitation. “But I am a bit curious. Hard not to be. There has to be something…more…than just fighting for them.”

“There probably is,” Duri agreed, her words also now making him wonder. “But if there is anything else, I somehow don’t think they’re going to share it with us.”

***

_Abuja – Nigeria_

_11/13/2017 – 6:28 P.M._

“Did we do the right thing?”

Mox at least looked more sure of himself than she felt, leaned up on her desk, arms crossed and contemplating. She’d been doing that a lot recently. This had seemed like a good idea at first, but the more she saw the SAS take shape, the more she wondered if she’d unintentionally made everything much worse, not just for the people, but the countries as well.

“We didn’t really have a choice,” Mox stated. “It was either this or just go on the run. We’re at least making a difference here.”

“Is that really a good thing?” Betos asked wearily. “You know they’re seriously considering citizenship tiers. A fucking caste system, with their chosen master castes. Do you really think that’s a good difference?”

“I doubt they’ll do that,” Mox dismissed. “Just talk from Kone. They don’t want to make you angry, and they have to know something like that would.”

“Taking that out of the equation, are things actually better?” Betos asked. “Whatever promises they make about compensation, they’re still gathering up people and forcing them to work. They’re arresting people who question them. How is _that_ ,” she swept a hand around. “ _Any_ better than ADVENT?”

That at least got Mox to frown some. “And before you ask, I could certainly do something,” Betos continued. “However, I don’t trust these men, at least not the smart ones. They would betray me if they saw the opportunity, and me sabotaging their great plans might very well get me killed.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “And on the other hand, doing nothing is just as bad. Even if we all left, they have the schematics and have a unified government for perhaps the first time. The SAS isn’t going away.”

“The way I see it,” Mox said slowly. “We didn’t have any good options. We stay and make sure ADVENT stays in power, or we take a chance and try and make things better. Maybe it’s not turning out exactly how we hoped, but we _can_ at least try and make it better. We couldn’t do that in ADVENT.”

“True,” she sighed, getting back up and walking around to her desk. “Well, they gave me authority over the military doctrine, so I at least have that. I better get to work.”

“I’ll let you be,” Mox said, standing. “We’re all still behind you, and we’re getting the armies into an actually decent fighting force. So not all is bad. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Will do,” Betos said, opening her laptop back up, beginning to focus on the screen as Mox left and shut the door behind him. It took close to an hour, but the more she worked the better she felt. At least this part of the SAS would be bearable, and if it clashed with whatever the hell Kone and Okon were planning, then that was just too bad.

 _One crisis at a time_ , she told herself. She could only try and fix one thing at a time, and-

A knock interrupted her. She frowned. “Yes?” She called.

“Package,” another voice answered. “For Betos.”

She had guards, so she doubted anyone would be let through if they weren’t legitimate. Still, she kept one hand on her pistol as she walked to the door. Outside the man didn’t even look like a soldier, but just a random Nigerian citizen. In his hands wasn’t a package, but some kind of silver circular device.

“Betos,” he said. “This is for you. Please press the button underneath if you wish to acquire another ally.” She took it gingerly, looking down at it.

“Who-“ she began, looking up and the man had suddenly vanished. She blinked, looking up and down the hallway, knowing he _couldn’t_ have just gone so quickly. She looked down at the device in her hand. It was unlikely to be dangerous, as there were so many better ways to assassinate her than strange…devices.

She pressed the button on the bottom, and almost dropped it as a blue light appeared on the top, and soon formed into the figure of an alien.

Not just an alien. One of the leaders. _Ethereals_ they were called. _“Greetings, Helsa Betos,”_ the Ethereal began, Betos unable to make out his face underneath the hood that covered his face. _“I am glad you decided to answer this message.”_

The problem, Betos was realizing, was that she had no idea what to really do here. The aliens were the enemies of ADVENT, but since they were also enemies of ADVENT, it didn’t really mean that much. They were portrayed as monsters, but it was also _ADVENT_ who was saying that, so they couldn’t be trusted to be fully objective.

Which resulted in her being woefully uninformed, especially in regards to the leaders. She hadn’t fought against them, so she couldn’t even recall that for information. All she could do was improvise, and right now that seemed prudent. “I suppose that was one of your people?” She asked.

 _“A mere pawn, no one important,”_ the alien stated. _“He completed his mission, and is happily with his family. I prefer not to work through such, but I felt it would be…inconsiderate…to approach in person. I am aware our appearance and deviation from Humans is…unsettling.”_

“You wouldn’t go to this trouble for no reason,” Betos decided to get to the point. “What do you want?”

 _“I have been following your actions for some time,”_ the alien continued. _“I am impressed you defected from ADVENT, and even more so that you have managed to get these shortsighted fools to unite. I do not believe you understand the implausibility of that. Nonetheless, my reason is simple: I would first like to meet with you, and discuss the possibility of an alliance of our own.”_

“With the SAS?” Betos asked. “I don’t make decisions like that.”

The alien gave what sounded like a fake chuckle. _“The so-called Sovereign African States, foolish old men drunk on power. They will indeed have a part to play, but I have little interest in tolerating their type. I will discuss working with you, for you have earned some measure of respect. You are concerned with more than just the power and glory; you have vision, you have plans. You are the kind of leader the Humans will need, not the ones you have allied yourself with.”_

Betos found it oddly ironic that an alien was saying this, and wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. It _sounded_ like a compliment, but what did that really mean to an alien? Could she even apply Human logic to them? “I see,” she said slowly. “Flattering, assuming you mean anything you say. I’m afraid I don’t know much about you, other than ADVENT Propaganda.”

 _“Which as we are both aware, does distort the truth,”_ the alien gestured with a gloved hand. _“I will not deny we have killed many Humans. Many more will die before this war ends; that is simply the nature of such. But it would be a mistake to ignore the cost to our own. As a Human, I expect you will have your reservations, but I suspect you are intelligent enough to move past that as this is the cost of war. I do not enjoy wasting time, Betos, do you wish to converse or not?”_

“Fine,” Betos said. It couldn’t hurt, and she was curious what would happen. It couldn’t be worse than accidentally possibly creating an African ADVENT. “When and where? And who are you?”

 _“Your office is fine,”_ he said. _“Do not worry about watching for me, I will arrive within the next couple of days. And you may call me Macula.”_

“Macula,” Betos tested. “In that case…I look forward to it.”

 _“As do I, Betos,”_ the alien – Macula – answered. _“I believe we have much to discuss.”_

The hologram clicked off, and Betos was left alone again.

This definitely changed things, and she could only imagine what the aliens would be interested in. This would be a very good thing, or it could be yet another mistake. But she’d made quite a few already.

What was one more?


	27. The Guardians

 

_The Chronicler’s Sanctum, Unknown - Australia_

_11/14/2016 - 1:19 P.M._

Abby did not particularly like where the Chronicler lived. Element-wise, it was actually perfectly comfortable, and there was no shortage of food and drink, but there was a smothering, unsettling _feeling_ that permeated the entire place. The feeling was one that she would swear meant someone was reading her mind, but she’d never felt that either from Patricia or the Chronicler.

And while Patricia had her own ethics, and Abby trusted her, she wasn’t naïve enough to think the Chronicler wasn’t constantly monitoring her. However, as far as _altering_ her thoughts? She hadn’t noticed any evidence of that.

Then again, would she if it happened?

She shook her head. That was a rabbit trail that was pointless to dwell on right now, especially when things were likely going to become much more interesting in the next couple of days, assuming the Chronicler was actually going through with his initially outlandish plan to attack Sydney.

But he ‘needed time’ to get things in place, apparently. Now though, it seemed like he wanted to bring everyone up to speed, which was about time, since aside from sending XCOM a short affirmative signal telling them she was alive, she’d refrained from actually contacting them both because the Chronicler requested it, and she couldn’t really do it without it being likely suspicious.

She still had no idea how she was going to explain this, short of telling the truth.

In the meantime, she and Harper had spent the time fully recovering, and getting the rest of them in more or less stable conditions. While Harper was naturally suspicious of the strange gel the Chronicler had, in addition to traditional medicines, it was by far the most effective. Abby didn’t know how it worked, but it healed whatever it was placed on in a matter of days.

Christopher Williams, Roy Weaver, Derrick Ellison, and Norma Anderson were the sole survivors of the largest Australian Resistance cell, and while all of them were devastated by it, they were also wanting to exact vengeance on the aliens themselves. Harper had initially said that the goal was to leave since there wasn’t any more they could do, before the Chronicler had interrupted and said that if they wanted vengeance, they would have it.

There was an assurance in his voice that made Abby believe him, and judging by the rapt attention he’d received, they felt the same. She didn’t know if that was his telepathy, or just them wanting something to latch on to. She understood how they felt to an extent; leaving now would mean they’d essentially accomplished nothing. It would be an uncontested defeat.

Something all of them despised.

So now it was time to see what the Chronicler had to show them. Abby walked into the cool stone hallway, wanting to go to the central command center she and Harper had stumbled upon the first time. She also thought she’d figured out how this place worked. It seemed like all she needed to do was think of where she wanted to go, and it would lead to that room. It didn’t make any sense, but her attempts of mapping the place out had led to her going in circles, reaching dead ends, and initially freaking her out.

Since the Chronicler was annoyingly vague about it, that was probably the best she was going to get, and with how weird everything else was here, a constantly shifting cave system was probably not too special.

The rest of them, minus the Chronicler himself, were already on the platform above the clear water, with some more consoles and a holotable of some sort being in the center. That hadn’t been there before. All of them wore their former resistance gear, which the Chronicler had one of the machines repair for them, so it was as good as new.

“No sign of him?” Christopher grunted as she walked up, and Abby really wished he’d just cut the rest of his beard off, because right now it was a black patchy mess.

“Not yet,” she answered, looking down at the holotable and seeing it was definitely different than usual. “Knowing him, he’ll likely make some dramatic entrance.”

“Whenever he gets here, we need to figure out the issue with ADVENT and XCOM,” Harper said, crossing his arms and giving her a brief nod of acknowledgement. He now wore a black patch over his missing eye, to her relief. “I’m not keeping this a secret, and if he wants to go through attacking Sydney, he won’t be able to either. And either way, they’re going to hear about a strange Human psion from the aliens at some point.”

“Well, I can’t keep putting it off,” Abby sighed. “This is a mess.”

“One he could have helped us avoid,” Norma said under her breath, the lighting making her dark skin even more shadowy. “Selfish bastard.”

“Not really,” Abby admitted. “He’s been helping, he was just not obvious about it.”

“Either way, nothing can be done about it now,” Harper interjected. “All that’s left is what happens next.”

“Exactly,” the Chronicler said smoothly, stepping out of thin air before them.

Abby sighed.

“Glad you joined us,” Christopher said sarcastically. “Busy?”

“Mocking as your tone is, yes,” the Chronicler said without missing a beat, as he pressed some buttons on the strange holotable. “But that’s settled, and now it’s time to let you all know what is happening.”

The holotable came to life, but it wasn’t holograms that were displayed. Instead, almost microscopic bars rose up from the table and formed into shapes with tangible density. No, not bars, little nanites it appeared to be, since bars couldn’t make some of the 3D shapes. They were a dark grey, and formed into the city of Sydney, complete with buildings and everything. It was actually impressive how accurate it was.

“This is the target, which all of you are familiar with,” the Chronicler said, pointing to the display. “So I won’t repeat it, save that it is the main command center of the alien operations in Australia. Destroying it would not only get their attention, but slow any hope of expanding beyond the Oceanic Theatre, which for ADVENT means Korea, and maybe China.”

“Wonderful,” Norma said, eyeing him skeptically. “Thank you for your insightful commentary. It’s not like we figured that out _months_ ago.”

Abby almost smirked. But really, she had a point. The Chronicler like usual didn’t take offense. “Appreciated, Miss Anderson, but I am going somewhere with this.” He motioned back to the display, which created small recreations of an Andromedon, Muton, and Vitakara, all at separate points.

“Each of these represents one of my forces,” he continued. “I’ve been working on upgrading them since our last operation, Agent Gertrude, which will be necessary since I only have several thousand, and Sydney,” he nodded again. “Has roughly ten thousand, not including Gateway support, much less any surprise visits from the aliens, or Ethereals.”

“When you say ‘upgraded’,” Roy interjected, eyeing the Chronicler intently. “That means…?”

“I’m glad you asked,” the Chronicler smiled and motioned to one of the cases that was resting against the wall. It floated over to them, and still hovering, the Chronicler opened it and inside were perhaps the most…alien…weapons she’d ever seen. At first it looked like some kind of rifle, with an odd stonish exterior, that was until she saw that the stone was _pulsing_.

The Chronicler reached in and all of them flinched as thousands of little silvery wire-like things sprouted from the stony flesh of the weapon, and embedded themselves in the Chronicler’s hand, which he didn’t even acknowledge. “This is a particle weapon, relatively low-tech, but I don’t want to make things too difficult for my first attack.” He noticed all of them staring and raised an eyebrow. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It’s perfectly harmless, but once you use this, you won’t want to go back to regular unconnected weapons.”

“You say that…” Roy said cautiously.

The Chronicler sighed, then suddenly tossed the weapon in Abby’s direction and purely on instinct she reached up and grabbed it, and the countless little wires were now drilling into her hand. She yelped, but immediately realized that the Chronicler hadn’t lied. She really _couldn’t_ feel anything. Abby looked down at the hand grasping the barrel, _feeling_ the little things go deeper into her arm, but it just felt _odd_ , not painful or even unpleasant.

She properly grasped the handle, once again feeling the wires go into her wrist, fingers, and arm, and cautiously let go of the barrel with the other and instantly the wires retracted, like they were never connected at all. “The hell?” She muttered, looking at the arm and not seeing any trace of the punctures.

“Go on, test it out,” the Chronicler encouraged with a smile. “You won’t hurt anything, although I’d prefer you not hit the consoles.”

“Or any of us,” Christopher added.

Abby nodded, turning away and looking down at the rifle which was morphing the stock, and eventually solidified into what seemed to be a stock perfectly adjusted for her. Testing it out, she lifted it up, her other hand grasping the barrel like normal, and the wires entered her once more. Yep, perfectly tuned to her. Even the handle was reforming and allowing her a tighter grip. She aimed at the wall ahead, and fired.

A crystal blue beam shot out with a sound like a continuous high-pitched energy discharge. The beam slammed into the wall and a section practically exploded, then she unconsciously stopped firing. The beam ceased, and the aftermath was a section of the stone wall that was just…vaporized. There was an impression at least an inch thick, in a perfect circle with a two foot diameter.

She was about to compliment the weapon’s power, when she realized she hadn’t actually pulled a trigger. Abby looked down to confirm, and sure enough, there wasn’t anything. Was she firing by pure thought? Was that possible? To test it again, she raised the fire and gave the mental _fire_ command. The beam shot out, and impacted another section of the wall.

“Where did you get these?” Harper asked incredulously as she walked back.

“Nowhere you’d know,” the Chronicler dismissed. “And no, you won’t be able to just make these. They are…fickle. If the wrong person picks one up…well….boom.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “Sentient rifles?”

The Chronicler chuckled. “Not exactly. But this is how I’m augmenting my army. You saw my armor, Agent Gertrude. It functions in a similar way. But now I have a proposition for each of you, Agent Gertrude excluded.”

“Go ahead,” Harper said after a few seconds.

“It’s rather simple, actually,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “I have an army. But I would prefer to have some Human support. Leaders. Generals if you wish. Regardless of if we win in Sydney, the war will be far from over. Australia will be a battleground until the war on Earth is over, so I would humbly extend an offer to join my efforts in making the Collective _uncomfortable_ here.”

The former Resistance fighters exchanged a look. “Flattering,” Norma said slowly. “The thing is, we’re just Humans, and to be honest, we’re not much of a help. Even if we have _those_ ,” she gestured at the weapon Abby held. “That’s not going to help us, especially if we’ve got Ethereals coming to kill us. And we’re not psions.”

“I know,” the Chronicler assured her. “Which is why you’ll have to be enhanced as well.” He pointed to some black cylinders on the side of the room Abby hadn’t noticed until now. They were some kind of metal, and there was a console with glowing lights close to it, but otherwise it didn’t appear special.

“The procedure is painless, I promise,” he told them as they moved to get a closer look. “When it is finished, you will not be Human, not entirely anymore. But you will be better, faster, and stronger. While I cannot promise immortality, you will come close. _Very_ close.” He looked to Harper. “In addition, it will repair any previous injuries.”

“This sounds way too good to be true,” Christopher said slowly. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” The Chronicler looked upwards thoughtfully. “You will simply have to fight the same battle I have been.”

Abby got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the current war with the Collective.

“I don’t need an answer now,” the Chronicler said, moving back to the particle table. “But before the battle would be preferable. I don’t intend to launch it for several more days. Agent Gertrude, please come here.” She stepped to him as he was punching buttons on the device.

“I assume that offer didn’t include me?” She asked, as Harper moved away to talk with his soldiers.

“I doubt you want to be tied to events here, though I won’t turn down your help if you really want to provide it,” he said without looking at her. “Truthfully, I believe you will be useful elsewhere. Do not worry, I won’t send you away without _anything_. I have some gear specifically for you as well, but this is my war now. Subterfuge isn’t as important. Now, I need you when I speak to the Commander.”

She blinked. “You’re going to-“

“Yes,” he sighed, looking up. “Unfortunately, my time in hiding must come to an end. I, of course, could simply force you and the others to refuse to give details, but due to recent events, that would be a pointless waste of time. Better XCOM is aware of the situation completely, instead of accidentally disrupting my work.”

The grey particles suddenly formed into the shape of the Commander, which was an odd sight since his features were almost perfectly completed down to his hair, but he could be mistaken for a statue if he wasn’t moving. “ _Who is_ -“ He blinked. “ _Agent Gertrude. We’ve been concerned_ ,” he saw the Chronicler. “ _Who are you_?”

“That is why we’re talking, Commander,” the Chronicler said, inclining his head. “We’ve met before, I believe. I was with Saudia when you came to the Bastion, although you didn’t speak much with me.”

“ _Ah, right,”_ the Commander nodded. _“I remember you. You had a title, Chronicler. A pleasure to see you, I suppose, but what are you doing with my agent?”_

“A long story,” Abby said, briefly summarizing what had happened with the Resistance coming under attack. Then she got to the part where the Chronicler had come and fought off the alien, with his psionics.

The Commander’s gaze immediately focused on the Chronicler. _“I see. So they have more of those aliens. And you are a psion. Interesting. Saudia forgot to share this information with me.”_

The Chronicler smiled. “She didn’t know. I never told anyone.”

_“Why?”_

“Call it a code,” he said. “There wasn’t a need to, and my job was simply to gather information, and ensure that the Director of EXALT never came to harm. She has plenty of protection now, and we have a war to win, do we not?”

He paused. “Apologies for keeping Agent Gertrude from informing you of the truth of the situation, but I did need to take some precautions. However, we’re both professionals, so if you want, I will get to the point.”

Nice of the Chronicler to cover for her, even if it would likely make the Commander angry. But all he did was simply state, _“Go ahead.”_

“I will be taking over the war in Australia,” he stated without any ambiguity. “I suspect I will have at least a few of what remains of the Australian Resistance join me, and I have dominated a respectable number of aliens. I can wage a war, in addition to any other unexpected surprises.”

 _“Your war will last until an Ethereal arrives,”_ the Commander warned flatly. _“As much as Saudia will want to kill you when she finds out who you are, I would also assume she would prefer you alive until then. Psion or not, you can’t fight an Ethereal on your own.”_

He smiled. “Perhaps. But I’ll take my chances. I don’t answer to you, Commander. I’m not asking for your permission, I’m just making you aware that Australia will be a warzone, which I will handle until XCOM and ADVENT push the aliens back everywhere else. Then I will of course, cede the conflict to you.”

 _“How generous,”_ the Commander said dryly. _“Unfortunately I’m not in a position to really interfere either way. I assume you also contacted me for a reason beyond this?”_

“Aside from suggesting that Agent Gertrude be recalled,” he said. “This type of warfare is not for her, and while I would like her to see me fight in Sydney, she would be more useful elsewhere. However, I will not return her empty-handed. And if you wish, I can inform you of the plan of attack.”

The Commander thought for a moment, then gave a nod. _“Fine. First tell me your plan.”_

***

_Desolan, War Camp 402_

_11/15/2016_

Nartha decided he definitely had enough evidence at this point. Being Zararch gave him access to quite a bit of equipment, much of it for surveillance purposes, and after placing a monitoring nanodrone on Merina, he now had access to both her location and high-quality audio, and he’d had a small video drone follow her around, always making sure to be hidden. Andromedons made excellent micro-drones, and the Zararch had plenty incorporated into shells that looked like insects.

This posed something of a potential issue, since there weren’t really any insects on Desolan, but as long as it stayed away, that was all that was needed. The days of monitoring had paid off quite handsomely, as Merina was definitely altering records, and then taking the unlisted Muton children and leaving them at dead drops, which were soon picked up by another hooded figure.

He had spent some time debating actually bugging the boxes, or even the area, since he didn’t want to spook her, or anyone else for that matter. However, he also doubted that they had the means to detect nanotrackers, and he had installed one in it just in case. That being said, now was probably the time to do something about it. He’d spent some more time speaking to her, and she definitely viewed him in a positive light, and in time, might possibly bring him on board her little trafficking operation, but he simply didn’t have that kind of time.

So he’d invited her to his temporary quarters, which he’d ensured were scrubbed of any listening devices of visible and nano variety. It was to ‘discuss improvements’ as he’d lied, but in truth he was going to get some answers out of her. The door buzzer beeped, and he unlocked it, and Merina stepped in, baring her teeth in greeting as she saw him. “Nartha.”

He didn’t return the smile. “Merina. Please take a seat.” He gestured to the chair on the opposite end of the table he was at, a bare thing, and there wasn’t anything on the table itself except for his holoprojector. While she moved forward, he locked the door behind him, and activated his white noise device just as a precaution.

“Already down to business,” she said, not appearing to notice his much colder demeanor. “Did you speak to the Sargon?”

“Merina, I am going to get to the point,” Nartha said tiredly, straightening. “I’ve spent enough time waiting, so I need some answers. Where are you taking the children?”

She froze, blinking at him in astonishment before his words registered. Her mouth opened and closed several times. “I…I…I don’t know-“

He pressed a button and activated the holoprojector that showed in perfect detail her leaving the container containing the Muton child at the dead drop. “Really.” He said dryly. “Or should I play the last one?” He didn’t have it, and had been rather lucky to get this, but she didn’t need to know it was a bluff. “Or perhaps I could pull up the records you altered, to make it appear like there were only fifty-seven babies when in reality there were fifty-nine?”

He gave a humorless smile. “Your operation is clever, but this happening on such a large scale? We were going to notice eventually.”

She was a much paler shade of green now, staring at him in terror. He turned off the holodisplay. “You are very, _very_ lucky that you weren’t discovered by another Zararch agent, otherwise you would be before one of the Sectoid Interrogators. However, we both share similar goals.”

That seemed to shake her out of her paralysis. “What?”

“I am a Zararch agent,” he told her simply. “But one who has…issues with the Collective. There is a lot happening you do not know about. Our species has been taken advantage of by the Elders, and the time has come to change that. I’ve been working to locate and unify the resistant elements within the Vitakara and Ethereal Collective as a whole.” He nodded towards her. “I received this assignment personally from the Zar’Chon. My instructions were to find the cause of the abductions, and stop them. I intend to unite them with the Nulorian, and deliver a suitable target to satisfy the Zar’Chon.”

He paused for a few seconds. “So I need to know the details of your operation.”

Merina visibly swallowed. “What…what do you plan to do?”

Nartha cocked his head. “I don’t know without understanding how you operate. How many mature Mutons do you have?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “They keep details like that secret. But thousands at least.”

A start, and they would have likely not been subjected to the brutal training, which was bad in that they might not be as effective, but good in that they quite possibly may be smarter or more competent. “Your people have a substantial army of untouched Mutons to use against the Collective, that’s what I plan. In addition, you will be put in contact with the Nulorian, who can likely make your operation run smoother without bringing the Zararch down on you again.”

“You don’t understand,” Merina suddenly interjected. “We took them away because we _didn’t_ want them to go to war! We didn’t do it for…” She gestured wildly. “Your grand plan of rebellion!”

He’d wondered about this. Yet it seemed a pointless goal, so he hadn’t devoted much time to it. What was the point of abducting Mutons over a period of years if you _weren’t_ going to use them? It wasn’t as though they were smart enough to be useful otherwise. “I see,” he said slowly. “Then why go to all the trouble for no future use?”

“You really are a Zararch agent,” she hissed in frustration. “Not everything is a _resource_ or _tool_. Much as you like to pretend otherwise, these soldiers you think are mindless are _not_. They only are because that’s what we _make_ them. From the moment they are born, these children are tortured. They know nothing except violence, and that’s repeated until they die or pass the tests! They are aliens, but they don’t deserve this. Not without a _choice,_ which we take from them.”

“The Muton program is ineffective and needs to change,” Nartha agreed. “And that was at the creation of the Elders. Direct your anger at them, not me.”

“And why not?” She demanded. “You want to use them as an army!”

He nodded. “When the time comes.”

She stared at him. “And how does that make you any better?”

He didn’t exactly want to get into a debate on how much the individual Muton was worth, but he thankfully didn’t have to argue that point since he had plenty of other ones. “Because I will be using them to free our species from the Elders. I will use them to establish our independence and rebuild our species into what it should have been. This is bigger than you, Merina, what I am working towards _will_ affect not just my species, but every other one in the Collective.”

He pressed a button on his holoprojector, and brought up an image of Earth. “I don’t know how familiar you are with this planet, but a species was discovered here. Humans they are called, and right now they are fighting the Collective. They may even win. But this is perhaps the only chance to make change happen.”

He looked up at her. “You are accomplishing nothing now. You have no tangible goal. What you are doing now is ultimately meaningless if you are actually telling the truth. You will always be raising Muton children and watching them die. Perhaps you’ll ‘save’ several, but nothing will actually change. I could have ended your operation now, and everything you were working towards would die. Do you know what the Collective would do to those Mutons you saved?”

She flinched, and he nodded. “They would kill them,” he confirmed. “Likely not a quick death either. Maybe throw them to the Berserkers. Maybe turn them over to be experimented. Perhaps using them as target practice for the others who would like nothing more than to kill their traitorous brethren. And you? If you’re lucky they would kill you right there. What is more likely is you’ll be sent to the Sectoids.”

“I get your point,” she muttered.

“I don’t think you do,” Nartha said bluntly. “The only way this changes is for the Collective to fall. You will not survive forever. The only future where you achieve what you _really_ want is helping me take it down. You have two choices here. Take me to your contact, or refuse, and I arrest you and bring this operation down.”

She looked at him, almost sadly. “You would destroy everything just because you can?”

“No,” he answered. “Because I don’t have time to waste. If I cannot establish contact with your group, I have no reason not to prove to the Zar’Chon that I am still loyal to the Collective. While it is disappointing, you are not the only opportunity I have.”

She was silent for a few moments, thinking. “I will give you my contact,” she said. “But I don’t know if he’ll agree.”

“Let him know what I want,” he advised her. “I don’t want any surprises. I want to speak with the leadership, no one lower. Make it happen or I will bring this down.”

Now this was a risk. If whoever was running this was smart, they would have contingencies beyond one or two operatives being discovered. Logically, one compromised operative should not bring down the entire thing, it was a calculated risk on his part. If his theory was correct, all the Mutons were probably in one centralized location, and the goal was not to raise an army, but just to allow them to…exist.

They were in this for the moral reasons, not the logical, and he could use that. If things went bad, he would simply arrest both of them and turn them in. The contact would at least give a starting point. There was also the possibility that he _wouldn’t_ show up, but that was where the message that he was a Zararch agent came in.

At the very minimum, it would tell the leader that the Zararch were investigating this and their days were numbered. Then there was the ultimate backup, which was the bugged crate, and he had all that data saved and ready to be turned over. But he felt he could hold that information back for now.

Alternatively, he could always _go_ to the location he’d discovered, but that might get him killed, and definitely _not_ make a good impression on them. Although, practically blackmailing the operatives might not either, but his choices were limited. He sincerely wished they’d had a smarter goal in mind when they’d started this, so this would be less…contentious.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” she said without any enthusiasm as she stood up.

He simply nodded, not worried about her fleeing. She still had the nanotracker on her. She would lead him to the center of this operation, one way or another.

***

_Undisclosed Location – Argentina_

_11/16/2016 – 2:17 P.M._

Today was certainly going to be interesting. Volk once more sat across from the same suits as before, and neither of them looked especially happy. Personally, Volk felt they should be conducting these meetings in different locations, but once more he’d ensured the area was secure, and now his own forces were augmented by Asaru’s aliens.

It was almost symbolic in a way, now that he thought about it. The rotting and decaying building they were in adequately represented what he felt was a deteriorating relationship with the Argentinean government, although perhaps he was just anticipating the worst.

At least Elena was still standing behind him, one hand on his shoulder.

“Volikov,” the first suit said slowly, and very deliberately. “What exactly happened in your attack?”

“I had my people attack three Peacekeeper Outposts bordering Uruguay,” Volk answered. “If I recall, that’s what you wanted. I didn’t quite expect ADVENT to respond like that, but I unfortunately can’t predict the future.”

“Yes…” the suit continued. “You did what we wanted. With that said, perhaps it went a little _too_ well. ADVENT managed to turn this into a PR victory, Uruguay is out of our hands, and is little more than an ADVENT puppet now, since they’ve been trapped using their technology…on the condition that they can’t share it with anyone.”

Volk rested his hands on the table. “That,” he said. “Is not my problem. You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I did what I thought was needed.”

“The question is _how_ ,” the second suit finally spoke, almost glaring at him. “You are a professional. Your record speaks for itself. One Outpost destroyed makes sense, but _three_? _How_ did you do it?”

Well, best to get it out in the open. “I received a message from an alien representative some time ago,” he said, leaning back. “I met, and decided to form an alliance with them.”

They must not have been expecting him to just admit it, since they visibly became nervous, while looking at him incredulously. “What were you _thinking_?” The first suit demanded. “Do you _want_ ADVENT to annex us? You put the _entire_ country at risk and didn’t even _ask_ us if that was a good idea?”

“I’m thinking long-term,” Volk explained calmly. “And I didn’t contact you, because it wasn’t relevant. I work for you; I don’t answer to you. The aliens didn’t want to talk to you, they wanted to talk to _me_.” He shrugged. “And I was curious what they had to say.”

“For such a smart man, I can’t believe you did this,” the second suit growled. “Do you know how much danger we’re in now? We’ve been funding an _alien-backed terrorist_ group. What do you think ADVENT is going to do if they find out?”

“To be fair, this is your own fault,” Volk pointed out. “You could have kept using me, and stayed ignorant, but you asked. I’m well aware that ADVENT would annex Argentina over this, but this ultimately comes down to what you want the future of your country to be.”

Volk leaned forward, his tone turning as serious as he’d ever been. “Let’s be perfectly honest with each other. There are only two sides that matter. ADVENT, and the aliens. If you think that independent countries are going to exist at the end of this, you are sadly naïve. ADVENT is just looking for an excuse to annex you. One day they will find it. And if you think the aliens will let you maintain independence…” he chuckled and shook his head.

“No,” he looked back up. “At some point, you need to decide which side you will be on. I’ve chosen my side for now, and now you have the same choice.”

“And why are the _aliens_ better?” The second suit demanded. “Because they _told you_?”

Volk smiled. “Better? That’s a relative word. But they’ve certainly been more amenable to me than ADVENT ever has. There is no such thing as a _good_ government, the aliens will always perform their horrific experiments, and ADVENT will do the same. I’d bet you guys also have some black projects you wouldn’t ever share with me. That’s how the world works.”

Volk exchanged glances with each of them. “With that said, I’ve managed to get some concessions out of them. No civilian targets, human leadership should they win, advanced weapons and tech. I’d say that they might be more humane than ADVENT at the end.”

“How can you possibly think they’ll keep their word?” The first suit asked. “What stops them from just betraying you when it’s convenient?”

Volk smiled mirthfully. “Absolutely nothing. But I could say the same about you. What stops you from betraying me once you no longer need me? A calculated risk. Because I’ve figured out that the aliens _need_ us. They don’t want to conquer us, and deal with Human terrorists for hundreds of years. They need Humanity _on their side_ , and to achieve that, it means they’ll support the ones that help them.”

He pulled out a dull silver pistol he’d started carrying around. “This is what they’ve armed us with. Plasma weapons and more. The aliens you’ve been seeing are not the true power of the alien army. More importantly, I think they’ll keep their word because they have no reason to go through this if it were otherwise. The first time I met their leader, I was talking to an illusion the aliens created with their telepathy. There was, and still is, nothing stopping them from manipulating my mind. If that was their end goal, then why go through all this trouble?” He smiled. “It’s not likely I could stop it.”

“And this is your way of asking Argentina to support the aliens?” The first suit asked. “You understand what you are asking?”

“If you want to keep Argentina out of ADVENT, then yes,” Volk said. “If you want, I can put you in contact with the alien I’ve been coordinating with. But that is up to you.” Volk leaned back again, causing the chair to creak. “I’ve made my decision. I don’t need your funding anymore. Keep me on for jobs if you want, but I’m not stopping my fight until ADVENT is beaten.”

The two suits exchanged a glance. “May we take this?” the first one asked, motioning to the plasma pistol.

Volk motioned Elena to go get the black case he’d propped up against the wall when they’d arrived. “No, this is mine. But I’ll give you something better. Consider it a gift from the aliens.”

Elena set it on the ground, and opened the case, which displayed one of the sleek alien plasma rifles, one of the railgun-like rifles, a plasma pistol, with accompanying power cells, and a recharger for good measure. “Test them out whenever you like,” Volk said as the suits stood and appraised the weapons with obvious desire. “But be careful. If ADVENT catches you with these, I don’t think they will give you time to dispose of them.”

He stood, and began walking to the exit. “I’ll be waiting for your next contact, or if you want to discuss an alliance with the aliens. Think it over, and think about what you really want for the future.”

***

_The Praesidium, Situation Room – Classified Locations_

_11/15/2016_

“The Chronicler,” the Commander said to Zhang. “And there isn’t any more information on him?”

The stony face of Zhang frowned, and shook his head. “No. Unsurprising if he’s a psion.”

“Wonderful.”

The Commander didn’t claim to be omniscient, but it was rare that he was caught off guard. Learning that not only had Abby, and the entire Australian Resistance, likely been compromised since the beginning, but also that it was at the hand of a completely unknown _Human_ psion certainly qualified. If it had been an Ethereal, he could have at least understood that, but a _Human_?

That raised a _lot_ of questions. If Saudia had genuinely not known one of her advisors was a psion, then who had actually been in control of EXALT during that time? No one had ever noticed any obvious tampering, but the idea that a telepath just stayed with EXALT for years and done nothing was ludicrous.

And now he wanted to single-handedly fight in Australia? No, there was something else going on here beyond a psion appearing out of nowhere. He was clearly experienced with his abilities, at least according to what Abby had added. He’d have to have Geist or Patricia examine her when she got back to ensure there wasn’t any permanent tampering, but given his age, and that he was likely a telepath before the invasion, he was probably more skilled than both of them.

What confused him was that not only was he strictly maintaining independence, but that he’d waited until _now_ to actually make himself known.

Why?

“When did you first start investigating Earth?” The Commander asked Aegis, who’d been standing silently as they’d discussed the issue.

“The first discovery was twenty years ago,” Aegis answered. “However, no actual action was taken until roughly two years ago, when the first abductions began. The first scouting missions should not have contained equipment to enable psionic awakening.”

The Commander pursed his lips. “So assuming that the Chronicler has been a psion for longer than the war, how was he awakened?”

“There are only two possibilities,” Aegis said. “The most obvious is a catalyst; awakening through a psionic object or device. It is perhaps possible he was involved in a high-stress situation that awakened his abilities…but in that case, I suspect there would be more psions.”

The Commander walked around the dark holotable, powered off, thinking. “Having someone like that loose is dangerous. At the very least we need to interrogate him to ensure he isn’t a threat. He’s possibly been using EXALT the entire time, or worse has been influencing other powerful people for longer. I don’t trust him.”

“Aside from a coordinated operation, I don’t know what we can do,” Zhang cautioned, crossing his arms. “He’s not hostile…for now…and until that changes, I don’t think we can justify spending time solving this mystery. Whenever he attacks Sydney, that will give Abby something to report. But I only think keeping an eye on him is recommended. No more than that.”

“At minimum,” the Commander scowled. “But this implies that there are potentially _other_ aliens that have been here before the Collective. Aegis, how sure are you that these intra-galactic species aren’t exploring on their own?”

“Because if they were, we would have detected them,” Aegis said immediately, the silver helm looking down at him. “It is possible, of course, that they sent probes that crashed on your planet, but the issue is that none of the species are psionic.” His voice turned contemplative. “With that said, this is a puzzle I wish to solve. If you wish, I can go examine him and determine the answer to this, since I doubt he will give his secrets willingly.”

“Maybe once things calm down,” the Commander picked up a tablet resting on the corner of the holotable. “ADVENT is getting ready to fully take back America, the Collective will likely launch another attack soon, and maybe the Chronicler will get himself killed and solve this problem completely. Zhang has a good point. Until we have a good reason to devote time to him, we just make sure he’s staying out of trouble and focusing on more important things.”

“Speaking of which,” Zhang interjected. “The PRIEST Division has officially been established. Right now they only have military and training branches utilized, but they have three more they will begin using upon completion of the Manchurian Project.”

“We should focus on getting that done,” the Commander nodded. “That incident with the Imperator was a wakeup call. We can’t have our psions going rogue or turning into double agents. Anti-psionics should be prioritized.”

“You may wish to update Vahlen on that,” Aegis said. “However, I would encourage her not to be…overzealous in her efforts. One certain project she is working on is…disquieting.”

The Commander and Zhang exchanged an ironic look. Knowing Vahlen, that could mean a number of different things. She hadn’t had ‘benign’ projects for some time, or at least none a normal person would consider such. “You’ll have to be more specific,” the Commander said, raising an eyebrow.

“The one with the…” Aegis paused, as if recalling. “ _Octopus_. The unnatural multi-limbed creature.”

First jellyfish, now octopi. The Commander wasn’t sure what project that was, but given how Aegis didn’t seem to like anti-psionics research in general, he was taking it with a grain of salt. She was probably looking at it for its regenerative aspects or something similar; he couldn’t see the immediate connection to psionics.

Regardless, he _certainly_ wasn’t going to restrain her just because she made Aegis uncomfortable.

Who would have thought one, though admittedly brilliant, Human woman would be able to get such a reaction from a being who could shield entire planets and dominate minds with his psionic abilities?

He would have to tell her that later, she’d find it funny.

“The PRIEST Division will likely be our greatest weapon for a long time,” Zhang said thoughtfully. “Smart that ADVENT wants to deploy it, and press our advantage before the next alien attack.”

“It’ll come down to the plan,” the Commander said, although he nodded. “But I expect that it will be suitably comprehensive. Commander Christiaens is good at that, at least.”

“Indeed,” Zhang looked up at Aegis with an amused smirk. “I suppose you’ll refrain from participating as well.”

“There is little need,” Aegis stated immediately. “I will repeat again that when the time is right, I will help. But not before then.”

The Commander sincerely hoped that wouldn’t be tested for some time, but he felt that with each advance ADVENT made, that day was coming faster and faster.

***

_The Hall of Steel, Blacksite 05 – Unknown_

_11/16/2016 - ???_

The Battlemaster wondered at times if Fectorian was overly paranoid. Approaching his Blacksite in the Cultro, he was always first struck by just how large the space station really was. A Gateway would have been preferable, but Fectorian didn’t have any connected to the network due to security concerns, although the Battlemaster doubted that he couldn’t have found some way to protect himself.

The station didn’t look like a secretive Blacksite, but something close to a shipyard. It was segmented into clear levels, with a central square pillar and square blocks for each of the floors, all the size of a small city. On the third level there was an extension that was a full shipyard, which could be adjusted to create anything from small fighters to capital ships.

Fectorian was almost a military power unto himself, and no one had any idea. The entire solar system was augmented and trapped by his fleet and drones. Each planet was in the process of being mined for resources with his extensive automated forces, which was likely why he’d chosen a barren system to begin with.

Further small sections extended from various floors, but otherwise weren’t nearly as eye-catching as the shipyards, but what also soon became apparent were the extensive arrays of defenses on the station itself. Plasma, beam, magnetic, and since the Battlemaster genuinely didn’t recognize some of the weapons, he assumed Fectorian was actually incorporating Sovereign tech into his designs.

Good. More Ethereals needed to start doing that.

Behind the station was the first project he had undertaken upon the completion of the Hall of Steel: The Star Harvester, a vast collections of complicated rings, automated drones, and other small structures around the star of the system, which continuously harvested energy from it. As a result, Fectorian ended up with more energy than he knew what to do with, and stored his stockpile on one of the planets, and gave as much as was needed whenever the Collective asked.

As the project had only been completed recently, the Battlemaster had discussed developing these in other controlled systems, but now he didn’t expect that to happen until the Human matter was dealt with. The Human Solar System might be a good place for one, since it would take an extensive amount of energy to fully modernize it.

 _“Battlemaster, please approach Hangar level 2. Fectorian is expecting you.”_ The automated voice cut out, and the Battlemaster directed his ship towards the appropriate level. He knew the Blacksite was run by a machine intelligence Fectorian had developed, and would have expected by now it would figure out that he knew the way.

And that he’d _just_ been here several days ago.

A few minutes later, he finally landed the ship and stepped outside into the Hangar. Fectorian was almost as much of a showman as Quisilia sometimes, since there was no reason to have entire rows of his soldiers in every Hangar. All were organized according to species and race. They were always the lowest version possible, since Fectorian saved his actual masterpieces for his private use, and rarely showed them to anyone.

In general, the augmented rows of Vitakara, Mutons, and Sectoids weren’t ultimately much different than normal. Ever since the creation of the Star Harvester, Fectorian had taken that as his emblem and all of his soldiers had the outline of the rings around a sphere on their shoulders, or on other pieces of cybernetics.

Most had exclusively cybernetic limbs, with some having one or two original ones. Eyes were usually replaced with mechanical alternates, and each soldier had an implant that covered the entire spine and ended at the base of the brain, further enhancing their abilities. The soldiers stood as still as statues as he exited, except for one…Human…who approached him.

This was new.

It was a female, and for one, didn’t look augmented in any way. Long black hair, porcelain skin and a face Human males would likely describe as ‘attractive’. She was clothed in the armored harness Fectorian’s workers wore, a mixture of black sleeves, gloves, silver armor plates, and grey harnesses which held a collection of tools and equipment. “Battlemaster,” she greeted emotionlessly, but giving him a smile. “Follow me.”

Even her voice didn’t have the artificial tinge the rest of his army had. Curious. He knew Fectorian was experimenting on Humans, but not to such an extent. The modifications were likely internal then. Fectorian didn’t like making replicas, so he doubted that this was a purely automated machine that just looked like a Human.

They reached the end of the room, and the woman pressed a button which opened the door and they stepped inside a steel box. On the inside, the woman then entered some information into the panel, and the door shut. Fectorian had designed the station so that as little time was wasted as possible, which meant that the station was partitioned into hundreds of separate sections, all of which could be reached by a magnetic rail system, which combined with an internal Gateway system to allow anyone to reach any part of the station in seconds.

So it was not even half a minute later when the box transport stopped, opened the door and they were in Fectorian’s personal lab. Or one of them, at least. He had at least twelve, which he used for different kinds of experiments and fields. This was clearly one devoted to alien autopsy and scanning, as there were stacks of aliens in stasis, in various states of health. All of them were faced with life-ending injuries, and had been sent to him as a result.

Some would become part of his army, others would simply die, and he would recycle them. The room was exceptionally clean, as metallic drones scrubbed the steel floor continuously, and turned whatever materials and waste they picked up into more resources. There were several complex scanning machines on the left side of the room, and on the right were medical machines with suites of nanomachines and medical drones which would generally ensure that the subjects didn’t die before Fectorian got to them.

In the center was Fectorian’s main suite of cybernetic enhancement tools. There was a main table for holding the being in place, with multiple drones for lighting, delicate tasks, and providing more tools. Monitors and consoles were to the sides, displaying vitals and additional medical information. And Fectorian was there himself, though for once not working on some Vitakara or Muton.

It appeared that he wasn’t in his full armored suit this time, and had his ‘engineer’ suit on. Fectorian seemed to never decide what to wear when they met. As he was extensively modified, with his two lower arms being cybernetic replacements, as were both of his legs, and even his unmodified arms had ports to plug enlarged cybernetic limbs into them. He wore no cloth or soft material of any kind, but different types of metal plating that always changed in complexity.

The back of the armor had an attachment that acted as yet another set of small spindly limbs which could angle in front of his body, and could be used for pinpoint manipulation, holding trays of small tools, or laser cutting. The eyes were mechanical with a purple shining iris, and the helmet was simply an extension of his armor, covering his mouth and head, while leaving the eyes exposed, though there were panels built in that shut if he was in substantial danger.

Still, he only stood close to nine feet. His other suit did allow him to stand as tall as the Battlemaster himself, but it was mainly for combat, or so Fectorian said.

“Good, you came at the right time,” Fectorian greeted, his voice lacking the layered vocals of other Ethereals, and having a metallic tinge instead. “How do you like her?”

The Battlemaster looked at the Human who walked a few feet past him, and turned around. “I don’t know what you did,” he said, not entirely interested. “She was efficient.”

“Hm, you didn’t notice anything?” Fectorian asked, walking over to him, appraising the woman. “Excellent. That was the point. I’ll consider this a success.” He pressed a button on his wrist and the woman started changing. Her skin dissolved before him, the hair receded and even the clothes melted away as if on fire.

What remained was a metallic humanoid figure with dark grey metal limbs, with noticeable grooves and lines on them. Only the teeth actually remained white. Fectorian walked over to her and pressed several buttons which made the machine’s jaw drop open on its hinge, and the upper skull slide away to reveal the inner brain.

“A replica,” the Battlemaster slowly nodded, looking inside as the ‘brain’ which was a grey box with wires and LED lights in it. “I thought you disliked those?”

“A prototype, as I said,” Fectorian explained, reverting the replica to a normal state, with the jaw and head back in place. “I first needed to see if I could create a passable replica, and I appear to have succeeded here. Furthermore, I can control the entire physical appearance of the replica itself.”

The replica suddenly grew new skin, hair and clothes, and the Battlemaster was now staring at a dark-skinned woman with curly white hair, with severe burns on the left side of her face. “Nanites are useful machines,” Fectorian said with satisfaction. “However, I know you didn’t come to see my projects, but rest assured I will have much to show you in the future.”

He motioned him to follow and the Battlemaster did. “It was an interesting challenge you posed,” Fectorian commented. “But with what you provided, I was able to fulfill what you want. Your arm is fully healed, correct?”

“Yes,” the Battlemaster had been forced to have Sana repair the damage, but it was a minor injury at worst. “But I would prefer not to have that happen again.”

They then stepped in front of a small pedestal which Fectorian was proudly displaying the request the Battlemaster had given him shortly after the battle: A new and improved suit of armor. The basic design was almost entirely the same, but there were several obvious differences. The first was that the armor was lined with small rods which were positioned at an upwards angle all the way down the torso. The rods then curled to the back, and connected to an armored cylinder close to the back of the neck.

The arms and legs also had rods lining them, four in total, spaced evenly apart and growing connected into one towards the torso itself, and then also connected to the cylinder on the back. The fingers of the gauntlets were now tipped with the rods as well, but also had a point which the Battlemaster guessed could be retracted into the gauntlet itself.

“One electricity-proof set of armor, as requested,” Fectorian stated with a flourish. “I appreciate you gathering the materials needed, and finally providing the schematics for your Battlemaster equipment. Unfortunate your division was so secretive, since there were many improvements to be made in the designs, but I do understand now.”

The Battlemaster didn’t comment. Truthfully, he’d never expected his armor to fail him, and there had been no reason to disclose the secrets of the Battlemasters. However, it was time to move past that and Fectorian was one who could be trusted with them. It wasn’t as though he could simply make more later.

“And I assume you have tested this extensively?” He asked.

“You know me better than to ask,” Fectorian dismissed. “ _Yes,_ of course I did. And if XCOM tries to electrocute you again, every blast will simply gather the energy into a battery of my own design. Once it becomes powerful enough, you can discharge it back at them. Fitting, I think.” He pointed to the armor. “Electricity follows the path of least resistance, so there are plenty of more conductible metals to attract a lightning bolt.”

“I doubt that’s enough to absorb the entire blast,” the Battlemaster said skeptically.

“In the event where that is likely, I have lined the internal suit with additional non-conductive materials,” Fectorian continued. “And there is an additional layer of nanites between that, which are specifically designed to absorb bursts of electricity. You will not be harmed by lightning while wearing this, _and_ you will retain the durability of the armor you wear now.”

The Battlemaster looked at the suit. At least it looked similar, but it was still a change he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Still, he had to adapt and being immune to electricity attacks was a major advantage, especially if XCOM kept using those weapons. He had no reason to doubt Fectorian, but would definitely gain some practice before the next attack.

“Excellent work,” the Battlemaster nodded. “And the other project?”

“Ah, simple,” Fectorian stated absentmindedly. “A sensor upgrade is not difficult, and it was quite needed. You needn’t fear being tricked by fake nuclear signals. We will know if they are actually being used, or in the vicinity.”

That was perhaps even better news. “I believe at some point I will wish to use your own forces in battle,” the Battlemaster said. “I assume you would be able to spare some?”

“Finally,” Fectorian said, spinning around and not waiting for him to follow. “As powerful as my army is, it is rather pointless with nothing to do. It would be good to actually gather usable combat data. But don’t use my basic units. I have plenty more advanced models that need field testing, and a few more I am working on.”

They reached his table again, and Fectorian activated a holodisplay. “Units which…address key weaknesses in our forces. If the Humans wish to escalate this conflict, I am more than happy to test their limits.”

The Battlemaster looked over the proposed units, along with the accompanying project names. The ARCHON Project was certainly in response to the Archangels, while the REPLICA Project was definitely for more clandestine operations. It was clear what the Replica was, as Fectorian had demonstrated.

The SPECTRE Project appeared to be more of a doomsday weapon, one which could easily backfire, but Fectorian was not one for making mistakes. “How close are these to completion?” He asked.

“The base goals of the SPECTRE and REPLICA are essentially done,” Fectorian said. “Sadly, ARCHON is in the beginning stages, but I will endeavor to finish it if it is needed.”

“Do that,” the Battlemaster said thoughtfully. “I have other uses for what remains.”

***

_Situation Room, the Citadel – United States of America_

_11/16/2016 – 4:52 P.M._

It didn’t feel too long since the last meeting, since the first counterattack. Quite a bit had happened, and ADVENT apparently wanted to push this advantage, since the Collective would almost undoubtedly try and correct their mistakes. The Commander was joined by Patricia and Zhang, for once none of them in armor, just standard fatigues because as the Commander had understood it, this was just a planning meeting, not something that would be carried out right away.

They were all familiar with the routine now, gathered around the holotable as they waited for Laura to begin her presentation. Beside her were Weekes and Elizabeth, with Saudia and Mercado at the end of the table, and opposite her was a new addition to the leadership.

Finn Gerstner, Vicar General of the newly launched PRIEST Division Military Branch was almost the perfect poster child for the program. The Swiss man had been an extremely popular government official, and had been one of the largest supporters and recruiters of ADVENT, and had joined the PRIEST Program once launched, and had encouraged others to follow suit.

It turned out that he was one of the six Leviathan-class Psions ADVENT had, and in the initial training he’d proven an excellent leader, as well as quickly grasping the basics of psionic theory fast. Vicar General had been deemed the best place for him, especially with his Offensive psionic affinity. He also stood out because the PRIEST attire was much different than standard ADVENT military fatigues.

In addition to the…interesting designation of Vicar General, a title clearly born of old religious titles, the PRIEST Division had also decided to fully embrace the pseudo-religious elements the name entailed. Their non-combat uniforms were a white-silver vest and pants, with the title and affinity symbol on their upper chest, the golden ADVENT logo was embroidered on the shoulders, and there was a short ceremonial white shoulder cape similar to the Officers. They wore no gloves or gauntlets, nor had any sort of self-defense weaponry, but their psionics clearly made up for that.

The translucent quality of his white skin, and golden-rimmed blue eyes also indicated his extensive genetic modification, which the Commander assumed was fairly standard for the PRIESTs. Commander Christiaens cleared her throat, and began speaking as the holotable lit up with a map of the Western United States.

“Thank you all for being here. Since we are making the final preparations, it’s time everyone be brought up to speed,” she looked up, briefly glancing at all of them as she continued. “While we made a lot of progress in retaking America, much of that can be attributed to the Collective underestimating us. We caught them flatfooted, and we can’t assume they won’t try and make adjustments against future operations.”

She rested her hands on the holotable. “Simply put, we have an extremely limited window to act before the advantage we have is lost. We have the Shieldbearers, SHIVs, MDUs, XCOM has the Archangels, and we now have our PRIESTs. The Collective does not have any answers right now, and we need to press that. This opportunity will pass before too long, so over the past couple weeks, I’ve been working with the entirety of the military to devise a plan to take back the rest of the United States and push the aliens back to square one.”

The states of Nevada, California, and Hawaii lit up in red. “This will consist of two operations,” Laura continued. “Operation Sherman, which will take back the United States mainland, and Operation Kamehameha, for reclaiming Hawaii.” She manipulated the focus of the holotable, and the holotable zoomed to focus on Hawaii.

“Operation Kamehameha will initially serve as a distraction to Operation Sherman,” Laura continued. “Over the past weeks we have been massing our naval forces to the Bering Sea, off the coast of Russia, and off the Pacific coast of Mexico. ADVENT Intelligence has determined that the islands are heavily fortified, but can be retaken with a dedicated attack.”

“What forces have been identified?” The Commander asked.

“Vitakara, primarily Vitakarians and Cobrarians,” Laura answered immediately. “This is in addition to a strong Muton presence, and they suspect there is a Sargon in charge of the islands. Luckily, the force is primarily infantry, although there is a strong automated line of turrets and point-laser defense systems. But no naval forces.”

“Andromedons?” Saudia asked.

“None that we have located,” Laura responded. “There are a minimum of twelve Gateways spread out through the islands, which will allow them immediate reinforcements, but they also lack any air support.”

“Which might be a problem,” Weekes pointed out. “While I know our carriers have Ravens…”

“Which is why Operation Kraken will go into effect here,” Laura countered, looking at all of them. “For those who are not aware, that is our operation using our extensive submarine forces to deny air assets. Which essentially means once we detect UFOs approaching, they surface and fire missiles into the air. Although in this case, they would be armed with both conventional and nuclear weapons.”

Finn raised a hand. “Excuse me Commander, isn’t that a…well, _bad_ idea?”

“Not as bad as you think,” Laura reassured him. “Nuclear weapons are indeed devastating on land, but in the atmosphere the radiation is greatly reduced, or negated entirely. Using them at a high enough altitude will prevent the ensuing blast and EMP from affecting ground forces. While we should be hesitant using them on land, there is little reason to refrain from using them in the air, and the blast will remove any threat the Collective sends to reinforce Hawaii.”

Several submarine figures appeared on the holomap. “Submarines will be deployed around the island six hours before the operation commences and prepare their payloads. There will be two paths of attack, from Russia, and from Mexico, hitting the islands of Kauai and Hawai’i respectively.”

“Hawai’i will be a long one,” Weekes commented. “Insertion will be bloody.”

“Not if done correctly,” Laura stated. “We will use a combined force of Lancers, Shieldbearers, and PRIESTs for the initial invasion, while our naval forces provide long-range bombardment on all the islands. Upon establishing a beachhead, teams of Engineers will establish Gateways and bring in reinforcements from our more secure locations in the Eastern United States, Russia, and India.”

“Good idea,” the Commander nodded. “But the Gateways will pose a target.”

“They will, but they will also be transported in pieces to be assembled,” Laura answered. “Our teams are able to get a segmented Gateway working in under ten minutes. Our initial teams can hold out long enough for that. Then we will begin taking the islands, moving to the next one once the current one is taken. Portable artillery will be established to fire at nearby islands as well, if applicable.”

“This will certainly get their attention,” Saudia commented. “They are definitely not going to just ignore this.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for, hence the perhaps disproportionate force,” Laura clarified. “Once we know we have their attention, we launch Operation Sherman, and what I consider the more important one.”

The holotable shifted to the United States again. “Their only territory are outpost bases in Nevada and most of California,” Laura continued. “They have been heavily fortified, but they are vulnerable to a sudden, blanket, and surprise attack. And they have made one critical weakness in their defenses.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Explain?”

Laura gave a grim smile. “They haven’t secured the rail system. There are rail tracks that go straight into every city in California. I don’t know if this is an oversight, or they don’t know how dangerous that is. But this is what we’ve been working towards, to exploit this before they figure it out.”

The map disappeared, and in its place appeared a train, but not a regular one. This one had been reinforced with alloys, making the carts protected boxes, and on the top were AA, laser, and various other kinds of weaponry. The main engine was similarly protected, and the back car was simply carrying a tank.

“This is the converted ADVENT Battle Train,” Laura explained. “There are many countries that have extensive rail networks, and that is something we can’t forget. Europe, South Korea, and America all have them, and all will likely become battlegrounds in the future.”

“This has been a project we’ve been working on for some time,” Mercado said, speaking for the first time. “Prototypes were tested and constructed in Russia, which involved experiments with molten salt reactors, and more recently, elerium generators to vastly improve its power output. We added various turrets and armoring to allow it to survive sustained barrages, but it is an extremely fast and devastating method of quickly striking targets.”

“Once tests were conducted successfully, we’ve been converting trains into this in the Eastern United States, and more recently Canada and Mexico,” Laura continued. “This is to throw off any spies watching us. The Battle Trains will be packed with soldiers, vehicles, equipment, and Gateways and hit the major cities.”

“All of them?” Saudia asked with some skepticism. “Do we have that many?”

“We have plenty,” Laura reassured her. “And not all of them will be Battle Trains. We’ve also been mocking up some suicide trains, old ones, which will contain MOAB explosive devices, and several deployed per identified alien stronghold in the smaller cities will take out substantial numbers, and this done in coordination will cause chaos in their communications.”

“So for the main attacks, what is your plan?” The Commander asked.

“Battle Trains with primarily Lancers, MDUs, and PRIESTs will make up the first wave, along with armor units,” Laura said, returning to the map with the rails highlighted in red, going to the major California cities. “The Trains will establish themselves to provide supporting fire as the rest of the forces establish beachheads. Several railroads will be left unoccupied to allow for Suicide Trains to go into the heart of their cities and detonate. Once they are fully occupied, the second waves will come.”

Holographic planes appeared over the cities. “At this time will we be deploying the second wave of Battle Trains, with primarily infantry reinforcements, in addition to those coming through the Gateways, and begin airdropping additional vehicles, Lancers, Shieldbearers, and conducting airstrikes on marked targets.”

She highlighted the ocean around California. “Operation Kraken will also be applied along the West Coast. While this might not completely negate air support, it will hinder it. With the second waves in, the general advance for the rest of our forces will commence, and we should have hopefully overwhelmed the aliens enough to take back California and Nevada before they realize what is happening.”

The Commander was impressed with the whole plan. There was just something he needed to bring up. “An attack this scale will warrant a reprisal, not just a defense,” he pointed out. “We’ll need to be prepared.”

“That’s the question,” Laura nodded gravely. “Theoretically, they could attack anywhere. I’ve ordered South Korea receive extra reinforcements, and it’s also possible that Mexico or Canada will be attacked, Canada more so since there is a small alien presence in Alaska.”

“And Caelior or the Battlemaster could show up,” Weekes added. “Which our forces can’t really stop.”

“Leave the Ethereals to us,” the Commander said. “If you _do_ encounter them…have your forces immediately pull back and let us handle them. We almost killed the Battlemaster once. We can do it again.”

“At the end, what I hope we achieve is a reclaimed America,” Laura finished. “For once, I believe we have the advantage here. Not just in strategy, but also in psionics. If this goes well, they will only really have Australia, most of the Oceanic nations, and Japan.”

“Indeed,” Saudia nodded, looking over to her. “When will this be launched?”

“Within the next week,” Laura said. “We need enough trains ready, and in several days we’ll have a critical mass of PRIESTs ready to go. If the aliens launch an attack somewhere else…we can launch it and at minimum draw their attention.”

“XCOM will be ready to provide support wherever you need,” the Commander said. “I’ll begin preparing squads whenever you need them.”

“Appreciated, Commander,” she inclined her head. “Hopefully we’ll be enjoying another victory soon.”

“Indeed,” he smiled grimly. “The aliens being forced to retreat would certainly be a nice change of pace.”  

***

_Mars Observation Station, Mars Orbit – Solar System_

_11/17/2016 – 1:14 A.M._

ADVENT was doing something, and Ravarian didn’t like how it looked at all. The holographic report in front of him didn’t assuage that feeling, and the fact that the Battlemaster was standing in front of him waiting for him to say something didn’t make him feel better either. “When are you planning to launch the attack on Korea?” He asked, shutting off the projector in his palm.

“Within days,” the Battlemaster answered. “I want an accurate assessment of ADVENT’s forces. Your agents will determine the speed of how soon we deploy.”

“They will have that to you within two days,” Ravarian said, knowing that would be more than enough time. “However…ADVENT is clearly preparing for something. Likely our attack, but we’re not completely sure what it is.”

The Battlemaster looked down at him. “What do you have?”

“A name,” Ravarian said. “PRIEST. We suspect it has something to do with psionics, and if so…there is a high possibility that ADVENT is going to begin fielding psionic soldiers in the future, if they don’t have some already prepared. Their naval forces have also been rapidly moving through the pacific.”

“Unsurprising,” the Battlemaster said. “Utilizing the psionic potential within their species was inevitable. I will have to factor this in. The naval forces either imply an attack in America, or more likely, preparation to defend Korea. Alternately, they could be preparing to strike us in Australia or Japan when we don’t expect it.”

“Should we deploy some Andromedon Aquatic Forces?” Ravarian asked.

“No, not yet,” the Battlemaster dismissed, raising a hand. “Let us see what they do first. It is more beneficial for the moment for ADVENT to make a move, if they can. They believe they have an advantage, and they will likely wish to exploit it since they know it won’t last forever.”

Ravarian agreed, which was why he wasn’t entirely comfortable with doing _nothing_ until ADVENT acted. “The defenses we’ve recorded for Korea are more extensive than we expected. I’m not certain our forces are adequately prepared for taking the cities. ADVENT has been smart in constructing their defenses.”

“I am aware,” the Battlemaster nodded. “But they can’t win a war of attrition. And their attempt at turning our attacks into sieges will likely fail. Trenches are an interesting idea, but it will be a temporary issue at best.”

Ravarian didn’t quite know if he should politely disagree. He’d initially been skeptical when he’d seen the first of the new ADVENT defenses. The towers were impressive, but ‘Trench Warfare’ as the Humans called it was an alien concept. However, after performing some research, he was of the opinion that it was tactically a very smart move, especially since ADVENT had clearly worked to negate the disadvantages of the tactic.

And it made him acutely aware of the fact that the Collective didn’t exactly have a powerful artillery unit. Or artillery at all. The Sectopods had a limited range, but the military was primarily composed of infantry units. Their spacecraft was an advantage, but everything he’d read indicated that attempting to cross the famed ‘no-man’s land’ was not only questionable, it was suicidal.

ADVENT was on an even technological level, weapon wise, and he had the vision of a frontal charge leading to ADVENT tearing them apart.

That wouldn’t do.

“With respect, Battlemaster, that I do not believe is accurate,” the Battlemaster looked over to him, Ravarian swallowed, and continued. “Utilizing trenches has, historically for Humans, been devastating to infantry forces. It wasn’t as effective against vehicles, but still dangerous. The Collective is primarily composed of infantry, and an open area with no cover is not optimal ground for engaging in combat.”

The Battlemaster looked at him for a few moments. “Noted, Zar’Chon. I will keep that in mind. Is there anything else?”

Ravarian shook his head. “Nothing major. ADVENT has begun arming their trains of all things. Perhaps they think we’ll be attacking their supply lines, but otherwise it doesn’t make sense.”

“ADVENT doesn’t do something without a reason,” the Battlemaster mused, turning away. “Ensure that your agents have a comprehensive report. I do not want ADVENT to become comfortable, nor get any ideas.”

“Yes, Battlemaster,” Ravarian confirmed. “It will be done soon.”

***

_Abuja – Nigeria_

_11/17/2017 – 12:28 P.M._

The alien had said he would come to her, and that it would be soon. Betos didn’t know when or how, but she had her soldiers on the lookout for anyone suspicious. So for now she just stood leaning against the outside of her refitted command center, thinking on what the implications of this would be.

Getting the attention of the aliens was not something she had expected. Not yet at least, it would have come in the future, but not for a long time yet. They would still have ADVENT to contend with, and SAS was relatively small when compared to the larger war. She hadn’t really thought which side she really fell on, although right now the answer was definitively _neither._

ADVENT she would not support, but that didn’t mean that the aliens would be any better. They wouldn’t be fighting if they were intent on actual peace, although given the leadership of ADVENT, perhaps they didn’t want that to begin with. The largest problem was that she didn’t know much about the aliens to begin with. She hadn’t fought them, or ever seen a live one.

Videos, briefings, and images yes, but all of those were from ADVENT. They listed appearance, combat abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. Not really anything about their motivations, goals, or organization, aside from ‘kill the Humans.’

She snorted.

No, at the very least there was more to the aliens than war. She doubted a culture could be sustained by such to begin with, but the question was _what_ said culture entailed. They could be just as bad, if not worse, than ADVENT. But she didn’t know, and hopefully this Macula would clarify some for her.

If there was one thing she was apprehensive about, it was that this was an Ethereal, and they were rather…notorious. First the vaunted Battlemaster, and the other one, Caelior. Both could single-handedly take on entire armies and win. Could all of them do that? And they were all psionic as far as she knew, so she was at risk of being mind-controlled.

The issue was now that it didn’t really matter what she wanted. Even if she refused, they could control her mind. But they’d found her without any effort on her part, so they intended for her to have _some_ role, and she doubted that it needed to be voluntary.

“It doesn’t,” the layered voice of Macula said beside her. “But there is little of value in that.”

Betos jumped and had her pistol in her hand the moment the Ethereal began speaking, but she wasn’t able to do anything as it was yanked out of her hand and hovered in front of the raised palm of the alien.

The Ethereal was _much_ more intimidating in person. He towered over her, at least three meters or more, his attire a mixture of a silver armor that protected his legs, arms and chest, with some kind of blue cloth or weave underneath it. There was also a cape of the same color that fell from his shoulders, and attached to it was an obscuring hood that shadowed his entire face, save for the glowing orange orbs within it; eyes most likely.

She swallowed.

“No reason to be alarmed,” he said, orienting his palm horizontally and the pistol floated back to her, which she took. “If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead already.”

“I expected you to make an announcement, not appear out of nowhere,” Betos said, holstering her weapon. “Apologies, Ethereal Macula.”

“Accepted, Lady Betos,” he said, appearing to nod slightly. “Now, I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Betos looked at the door, now realizing that the height of the alien might be an issue. “The office may be somewhat…confined.”

“Then we walk,” Macula said.

Betos glanced around, actually surprised that no one had stumbled upon them yet. “Someone may see you-“

“No,” Macula raised the opposite upper hand. “They will not. I have made sure of that. Walk with me, Lady Betos, there is something I believe you should see.” He stepped into the street, and Betos followed, becoming more concerned at the ominous words. The implications were disconcerting at best, and terrifying at worst.

Would an Ethereal really kill her soldiers to make a point? Especially if he wanted an alliance?

They rounded a corner and she suddenly saw what he was talking about. It was filled with soldiers, sitting around, talking with each other, or in formation. It was something completely normal, except for one minor detail.

All of them were completely frozen in place.

Dead silence filled the area, aside from the steps she and Macula made as they walked forward. It was bizarre. They appeared alive, and she did note they were still breathing, but otherwise they didn’t seem to register anything else. She stood in front of one of her soldiers, one who was walking, and got no acknowledgement.

“What did you do to them?” She asked slowly.

“Simply altered their perception,” Macula said, standing behind her. “The measurement of time is a curious subject. It cannot be truly stopped, and controlling it is little more than a fringe theory, but what _can_ be controlled is one’s perception of it.” He motioned to the frozen crowd. “They do not realize anything. Their minds are in the moment, unable to move forward. Should I release them, they will not be aware of any difference initially. Frozen in this moment, they are blind to the world around them.”

Betos blinked. “What about their bodies? Their thoughts?”

“Their bodies function, but they will not realize or feel anything until their minds are released,” Macula explained. “They could starve, die, burn, and they would not react or feel. Their thoughts are frozen in the moment they were stopped. Painless; elegant; something I have mastered over decades. An army is useless if their minds can simply be trapped in the present.”

So this was a demonstration of his power. Fine, though for what end she could only guess at. “I assume you have a point to this?” She asked.

“Of course,” he said, walking around to face her directly, amusement permeating his voice; amusement and confidence. She could barely look into the glowing eyes; she was not easily intimidated, but Macula was an exception. “I know what you fear. You are no fool. You know ADVENT will not ignore your alliance forever, and you will eventually be crushed. You know your influence over the SAS is limited, and it is becoming what you fled in the first place. You have lost your _power_ , if you had any to begin with.”

He paused. “But you have something useful to me. You have a _vision_ of your ambitions. And unlike many, you _follow_ this vision even if it leads to undesired results. You have risked your life, and that of your friends, and in doing so, you managed to begin the reformation of this continent. The men you allied yourself with are self-serving and dangerous, more concerned with their own power than the _future_. They cannot see beyond their settled scores and conquests. ADVENT is propaganda, the _aliens_ don’t exist, and their enemies are ripe for defeating.”

The Ethereal sounded like he chuckled, a low rumble. “You value honesty, Lady Betos, so I will comply. I care little for your species. The majority are not worth my time, and there are greater concerns in this galaxy. Yet if I must intervene, I will shape your people into something acceptable. But though I have the vision, I am not human. You have vision, and you are. In some ways, our goals are aligned.”

“I think,” Betos said slowly. “That what we have in mind for my species would be radically different.”

“Are they?” He asked, almost a hiss. “I desire a species purged of the corruption and filth that permeate your kind, one that is incapable of betraying our Collective, and one trained and prepared for the wars to come.” He inhaled. “There are wars coming, Lady Betos, ones far larger and greater than this one ADVENT wages. The other species are flawed, shaped by forces beyond our control and our leaders lack the resolve to _force_ change. Humans have the potential to be uplifted correctly, controlled and freed from the weaknesses of the lesser species. _That_ is what I wish from your species.”

He motioned to her. “The details of how that is accomplished…that is where you come in. Governance, laws, cultures; these concepts I have little interest in, much less building from nothing. You do however, or you know who you would need. That is what I offer you, Lady Betos, a chance to complete my vision, and reforge your species as _you_ envision it. And with my support, you have no fear of being stopped.”

His arm suddenly lashed out to the side, and a thin obsidian dagger flew into a nearby man, talking with one of her soldiers. It buried itself in his throat, yet his expression didn’t change as the blood slowly seeped out of his neck. “What-“ Betos began, as Macula telekinetically pulled the dagger back, and blood began pouring out, soaking his shirt in it, while his expression stayed the same.

“An ADVENT spy,” Macula explained. “One sent to watch you. As we speak my own operatives are purging the ring of spies ADVENT has embedded within the SAS and will establish means to ensure this does not happen again. You would be assassinated if ADVENT believed you posed a threat, and continuing on your path, you _would_ be.”

The body suddenly collapsed to the ground, as the man died, the same expression on his face. “ _I_ can protect you against ADVENT, the men you have allied yourselves with, and anyone else,” Macula continued. “Work to achieve my vision, and none will be able to stop you. You have wished to make a difference your entire life. There is no better opportunity than now.”

Betos thought for a moment. The saying “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is” came to mind. But at the same time…any alien that could do… _that_ …could be a powerful ally. She wasn’t sure if his ultimate goals were something she wanted to accomplish, but if he _did_ allow her to have a hand in shaping the future, could she really afford to pass it up?

At the very least, it couldn’t hurt, and if Macula _was_ telling the truth…

Perhaps she could do things the right way. No more worrying about corruption, power plays, or the things that had plagued humanity since the beginning to time.

She met his burning eyes. “Very well,” she said. “I accept. Where do you want to start?”

***

_Unknown – Desolan_

_11/18/2016_

Nartha felt that he was in a decent enough position. He was still armed, the dead man’s switch was working which would immediately send everything to the Zararch if he unexpectedly died as had been clearly pointed out to Merina’s contact, which was a male Vitakarian who hadn’t exactly been pleased to meet him, but hadn’t wasted his time and simply gestured to follow him.

He’d then been directed to a Desolan-issue speeder, which all of them had climbed in and they’d shot off beyond the War Camps. It wasn’t too unusual, since there were speeder patrols every so often and there were cases where various officers used them to travel between War Camps. Nartha wasn’t relying on memory to get back, since he wasn’t familiar enough with the geography to have a chance to begin with.

Things had started to become more interesting when they’d entered one of the mountains and had gone progressively deeper. There were no light sources other than the speeder itself, and Nartha couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous since the speed hadn’t been reduced, which made him concerned that they would suddenly crash into the stone walls.

That would be anticlimactic.

“No wonder no one has found you,” Nartha muttered. “Everyone who followed would die.”

“Yes,” the driver said without hesitation. “They would.”

No further elaboration was given, so Nartha decided to stay quiet for the time. All he really knew was that he’d be meeting the leader, and they weren’t planning on killing him. Fair enough, since he wasn’t planning on doing anything like that either. He hadn’t pressed for details, knowing he’d likely get that eventually, and questions would likely only make Merina’s contact even more suspicious of him.

After some time, they shot into an illuminated and open area deep within the mountain. Nartha blinked to adjust to the sudden light, and he then got his first good look at the…base? Sanctuary? He wasn’t sure what to call it, aside from that the area was massive and had to have been at least as large as a War Camp.

But it was noticeably different in several ways. There were waterfalls with a steady stream coming from several points, and small canals had been dug creating some variety to the brown dirt, which culminated in a central lake-like depression. There were small square houses built from clearly flimsy material, but given that there were zero elements to worry about, it was competent enough.

He looked up at the light sources, and they were indeed artificial, both hanging from the angled mountain roof, and built into the stone itself. The illumination was extensive, and was just as bright and clear as if it had come from a sun. But what truly captured his attention were the hundreds of Mutons that occupied the area.

He was so used to seeing them in armor that it was…startling to see them wearing primarily cloth coverings and garments the Vitakara normally wore. What few of them did have armor, it wasn’t the bulky plating, but maybe a few alloys woven into regular garments, with some kind of language written on them.

The Mutons themselves _were_ physically different than the ones in the War Camps. The males were not as stocky or tall, even if they would outmass a base Human or Vitakarian. The females were the most notably different, as they were much smaller, and ended up only being only slightly taller than the males, and stood straight instead of hunched over like he’d seen from several of the Berserkers.

Taking them off combat drugs and harsh training regimens had really changed them. Hm. It wasn’t ideal, but they could function well if properly armed and armored. Hopefully the tradeoff for this had been a substantial increase in intelligence. If not, at minimum they would serve as a good vanguard to a more dangerous force.

The speeder finally stopped, and the cockpit hood lifted, and all of them got out. It was by the edge of the artificial lake, and a short distance away was a small open tent, where several figures Nartha couldn’t determine were gathered around. It was surprisingly not as hot as he’d been expecting, and he assumed they had also installed either cooling or air conditioning systems into the cave as well.

“This way,” their guide said, and began walking toward the tent. They were beginning to attract some attention, especially from the various Mutons. He noticed that the groups tended to be either what he _thought_ were…families, as odd as that sounded, since there was one male, one female, and usually three or four children, or groups of just children. It was odd seeing that from _Mutons_ of all things.

Intermixed were other Vitakara, largely Dath’Haram, but also Vitakarians and Cobrarian, all of whom were armed and looked at him with obvious suspicion. They were apparently protective of the children, since they made sure to get in front of them while watching him.

Interesting.

The tent had three individuals. One of them was a Dath’Haram male, the next a Vitakarian female, and the final a Muton male. All of them were speaking with each other, and stopped once they walked up. “Zar’nartha’intha,” the Dath’Haram greeted, baring his teeth in greeting. “Welcome, to our Enclave.”

Merina and the guide had disappeared, leaving him alone. That was fine by him, since they ultimately didn’t matter anymore. The Vitakara were wearing a mixture of tan desert survival gear, while the Muton was one of those that was armored. None were armed as far as he saw, and he inclined his head. “I appreciate you inviting me so quickly.”

“Considering you threatened to expose us, don’t pretend it was a simple request on your part,” the Vitakarian spat at him.

“He is Zararch,” the Muton said. “They do not know other ways.”

Nartha looked at the Muton and frowned. “There are other ways, but I did not have time for them.”

“We can’t change the circumstances now,” the Dath’Haram said, raising a hand in placation. “But we are all here, so let us talk. I am, or was, Dath’uurian’haramshiral, a former xenopsychologist and xenoanthropologist. This is Runi’zerintha’vitiary, our head of what passes for security.” He motioned to the Vitakarian woman. “And this is Chief Ryarik, of the D’Rarrah Tribe.”

“I welcome you, Zararch,” the Muton said, still retaining that glare Mutons had, and Nartha suspected he might actually mean it this time. Surprisingly literate for a Muton who wasn’t a Sargon. Perhaps this wasn’t a bad sign after all.

“You have an impressive operation,” Nartha complimented, sincerely meaning it. “I figured it would have to be well-hidden, but the length you went to explains why the Collective has not found you yet.”

Uurian gave a single nod. “It took many years, but our operation is as close to thriving as we could make it. Outthinking the Collective was not an easy task.”

“No,” Nartha interrupted bluntly, shaking his head. “While I appreciate how effective this was, you are not as smart as you think you are.” Zerintha’s face hardened, but Nartha raised a hand to cut her off. “I will be honest with you, since you’ll probably appreciate that more. The only reason you have survived this long is because the Collective hadn’t noticed until now. They do now, and now they have _us_ looking for you. It didn’t take me long to figure out who was likely behind them, and then it was a simply matter of applying pressure. Your operation has flaws that any intelligence agency will exploit. You are _not safe_.”

Uurian appraised him. “I see. And yet you are against the Collective?”

“Correct,” Nartha confirmed. “My orders are to find this operation, and destroy it. I think it would be best to turn that against the Collective. I have already acquired allies in the Cobrarian Hierarchy, and established contact with the Nulorian. My goal is to establish a coordinated resistance through the entire Collective, and this operation would be an excellent asset.”

Zerintha’s eyes narrowed and she took a step forward. “You’re working with the _Nulorian_? The _terrorists_?”

“Of course I am,” Nartha answered evenly. “They are the only ones on Vitakar who shared this goal. You are the only other ones.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Zerintha said coldly. “That isn’t our goal.”

“So your operative Merina stated,” Nartha said evenly. “So please, enlighten me as to what could be the point of this _other_ than to resist the Collective?”

“I can not speak for Elders Uurian and Zerintha,” the Muton Ryarik said, in the gravely stunted voice of his kind. “But we are trying to…restore…what we once were. Not trying to…” he broke out into something in the Muton tongue, before Zerintha told him something, the language sounding odd from her lighter voice. “Forget,” he finished. “We do not want to forget.”

“I will give you a short history,” Uurian told him, stepping forward. “I was…unaware of the extent to which the Mutons had been reduced. When the Collective sent me to this planet, they first wanted me to figure out means to break them easier and further reduce their already shattered culture. I am ashamed to say I was…instrumental…in helping them understand Muton psychology, in figuring how far they can be pushed. How to turn their traditions against them.”

He motioned to the area. “You would not know it today, but the Mutons were not just brutes as you likely think they are. They are only that way because the Collective needs a disposable weapon, and everything else is secondary. What little of the Muton culture that remains is warped to be unrecognizable, and anything resembling what they were is gone.”

He clasped his hands together. “Near the end, I decided to do something. I’d learned what the Collective was going to do, which they hadn’t bothered to tell those involved. We had believed we were working to figure out how to lessen their more violent tendencies and uplift them, but everything we discovered was simply used to make hardened, better soldiers. When they began the birthing centers and War Camps, I began gathering resources with a small group of similarly-minded colleagues, and we established this sanctuary here.”

Uurian motioned around him. “During the course of my research, I’d learned as much about the species as I could. I didn’t want that to be forgotten, and whenever possible, we began smuggling Mutons born for the war camps to here, where we raised them as best we could. Not perfectly, of course, but we tried keeping what we could to at least retain some aspects of their culture. Their society, titles, rituals, we tried respecting that as best we could.”

“Admirable,” Nartha nodded. “But to what end?”

Uurian sighed, shaking his head. “Zararch live for plots and motivations. I don’t. My only goal is to save at least some of the millions of Mutons, and ensure that what they were isn’t forgotten. There is no larger goal than that, short of expanding to other places once space runs out.”

That, while certainly ambitious, struck Nartha as incredibly short-sighted. Really, what was the point of going to all this trouble if nothing was going to change? What the Mutons were didn’t matter in the larger war. This wasn’t even really hurting the Collective, nor was it making a point they would recognize.

There was literally no point to any of this aside from a strange sentimentality.

Baffling.

“We raise families here,” Ryarik said. “Our children are told the stories; what history we can remember. Our ways that the Elders have recovered. They live free of the death of the War Camps.”

“To what end?” Nartha questioned. “Is their goal just to exist? If they can never leave this place, what future do they have? What is the point?”

“When the alternative is a life of mindless servitude and likely death?” Zerintha asked rhetorically. “Just ‘existing’ seems acceptable to me. Do you think the same is true of the citizens on Vitakar? What is the point of them existing?”

“Not the same thing,” Nartha disputed with a shake of his head. “Everything, for good or ill, all comes to ultimately improving Vitakara society and strengthening the Collective. There is something they work to, even if it is as simple as protection or expansion,” he motioned around. “You are confined to one area, and at best to the underground network of caves. What are you _working_ towards?”

“I think we have succeeded in the main goal,” Uurian interrupted. “We have a self-sustaining and growing population of peaceful Mutons who retain some of their old ways and history. They have children, they grow, they learn. They don’t need a larger goal to be content.”

“Sustainable,” Nartha said, a mirthless smile on his face. “Perhaps if you hadn’t been discovered. The Collective is aware of your operation now, and what do you think they will do once they find out what you’ve done? Just _let you be_? What do you think they will do? Are you even ready to defend them?”

“We have some means of defense,” Zerintha said, glaring at him. “But no, we don’t have an army. We rescued them specifically to make sure they _wouldn’t_ have to be soldiers. That was the _point_!”

“As long as the Collective exists,” Nartha retorted. “You will never be safe, and eventually you will be found. I’m offering you something to actually work towards. If you _truly_ want to revive the Mutons, allow them to actually have a chance to flourish, you must prepare to fight back. Otherwise the Muton species will die down here, and this time it _will_ be forgotten.”

“I’m not so ignorant as to not make contingencies,” Uurian noted calmly. “But we’re not fools. War and violence have never caused any good. Call me a pacifist as the Zararch like to call us, but the Nulorian are no better than the Collective. What they did to the Muton species is unforgivable, but the Nulorian would purge whoever they deem unworthy.”

He bared his teeth once more. “You have an admirable goal. One I hope you succeed in. But I know what you are thinking. You don’t see sentimental aliens here, you see an army you can use against the Collective. That I will not allow. I will not turn them into warriors to die in your war.”

“We are content with our existence here,” Ryarik added. “We do not desire war, even if it is against the ones who destroyed us. We do not want to die.”

 _But you will, it just won’t be right now_ , Nartha thought in frustration. They didn’t seem to realize that they didn’t have a real choice here. And they were pushing him towards some unsavory options. He wasn’t going to turn them over to the Collective, they were still too valuable a resource to ignore, but they were clearly not going to be compliant because of their damned pacifism.

“So what are you going to do?” Zerintha demanded. “Will you destroy us because we didn’t agree to your request?”

Nartha sighed. “No. There is little point in assisting the Collective further. I could force you, but that would accomplish little. But when the Zararch does eventually find you, I will not prevent them.”

“That, I suppose, is all we can ask,” Uurian said. “Thank you, Nartha. I’m sorry we couldn’t give you what you wanted, but I wish you success.”

And with that, Nartha unfortunately knew what his next step would be.

Not ideal, but some things were required if the Collective was to be brought down.

***

_Blacksite 009 – The Prism_

_11/19/2016_

The Battlemaster was quite surprised at the most recent development. His interactions with the Guardians were generally limited, as if he needed to speak with the Imperator, it would be in person, and interacting with the Guardians was rarely needed. The Battlemaster had always had respect for the Guardians as an organization, but it was a step he rarely needed to actually stop and take.

With that said, they were the closest the Imperator had to ambassadors. He usually only sent them if something needed to be urgently communicated, and couldn’t be intercepted; as a warning, which he had done several times to the Creator; and finally to assist in whatever the operations were taking place. To date, this had only been offered during the Muton Subjugation, and he had refused since the help wasn’t needed.

To outsiders, there would likely be little point seen in having the Guardians as they seemed to fill the same role the Division of the Battlemasters had. Their armor was also heavily based on Battlemaster designs, although they used elerium-powered plate armor which augmented their already extensive strength and speed significantly, even if visually it didn’t look dissimilar to the Battlemaster’s own.

They wore deep purple capes, also similar to Battlemasters, and their helmets were not ornate and simply covered their heads and mouths, though allowed the eyes to be seen, but during combat, flaps would slide down and cover them completely. The Battlemaster suspected the helmet was designed that way to work better with the hood that could be put up over it. While not as heavy as the Overmind’s or Macula’s it performed the same function.

However, neither the cape or hood were mandatory, and some Guardians eschewed both and made this decision largely based on their fighting styles. Like Battlemasters, each Guardian had their own unique style of combat, and their own set of unique weapons; the Guardian Sabers. Each Saber was designed and constructed by the Guardian themselves, and was based on highly unstable nanotech.

They were some of the most effective and highly configurable weapons ever invented. However, the Battlemaster personally found them on the verge of cheating due to their effectiveness. Not to mention they had their own drawbacks. They were excellent for the purpose they were designed for, but it was not a weapon he would ever personally use.

There were only two left, the First Guardian, and the Second Guardian. One was expected, but both being sent at once was unheard of. “The Imperator sends his greetings, and commends you on your efforts in bringing Earth under control,” the Second Guardian began, easily distinguishable not because of her voice, but because she wore the full Guardian set of armor, cape, hood and all.

Her delicately designed Saber was attached to her waist, with one lower hand resting on it at all times. Fortunate the two had decided to distinguish themselves, because otherwise they were difficult to tell apart otherwise. Both were the same height, and just as tall as he was, as they were almost always selected from the Division of the Battlemasters to begin with.

“It is appreciated,” the Battlemaster said slowly. “However, the Imperator would not send both of you here to simply offer his… _compliments_.”

“Because he has not,” the First Guardian stated, lacking both the cape and hood in contrast to his counterpart, and his lower hands clasped behind his back while his twin Sabers were hooked to his waist. “We are here to offer our support to your efforts once more.”

Interesting.

If ADVENT was preparing to field more psions, it would certainly not hurt to have more Ethereals at his disposal to mitigate them. Both Nebulan, Macula, and Quisilia were occupied for the foreseeable future, and he didn’t want to utilize Caelior too much outside of necessity. The Guardians could be essential in ensuring what they controlled remained under Collective control, and expanding it further.

“Is this by order of the Imperator, or your own request?” The Battlemaster asked.

“Both,” the Second Guardian said. “It has been too long since we have plied our trade against an enemy, and continued training only helps so much. We requested this of the Imperator, and he agreed. You are familiar with our skills, so you know what we can do.”

“Do not take this as a slight, Battlemaster,” the First Guardian clarified. “I suspect that you could take both of us and win. We simply wish to assist in any way we can, for the Imperator and his eventual victory.”

The Battlemaster nodded. “Granted. I have several operations that could use additional support. How familiar are you with Earth geography?”

“Moderately,” the Second Guardian answered, exchanging a look with her counterpart. “We studied the major battlegrounds so far, including additional areas of interest such as China, Canada, and Russia.”

“Then you are aware we’ve suffered some setbacks,” the Battlemaster stated. At their affirmation, he continued. “Korea will be our next major offensive, and it will be a difficult one. Afterwards we will retake the ground we lost in America, and additionally launch offensives in Canada and Mexico. More are planned, but if you are involved, you will spearhead some of these operations.”

“Acknowledged,” the First Guardian rumbled. “We look forward to testing ourselves against the Humans. They have posed a greater challenge than either of us have anticipated.”

“That they have,” the Battlemaster agreed. “But even their best will still be insufficient.”

“They face the Guardians of the Imperator,” the Second Guardian said with a flourish. “We will ensure their threat is removed. On that you have our assurance.”

***

_Desolan, War Camp 402_

_11/19/2016_

The best case scenario would have had the Muton Enclave group working to militarize their extensive forces independently, and keeping in contact with the other groups he was coordinating. However, since they were not interested, he would have to co-opt their resources through other means, and that was going to involve a lot more work on his part.

Specifically, he was going to have to get the Nulorian on Desolan.

The good news though, was that once they were on the planet, they would easily be able to find where the Enclave was. Nartha had seen enough to know that they couldn’t just pack up and move, no matter what contingencies were in place. So he had embedded nanite trackers on the speeder he had ridden in, and various places within the Enclave itself. They would not be detectable, but they would be sending constant signals.

In addition to the location of the Enclave, he also had a list of each War Camp the speeder had gone too, which meant there were others there who were contacts. This would be useful for the Nulorian to secure the Enclave network against the Zararch.

He didn’t know exactly what the Nulorian were going to do to the leaders of the Enclave, or the Mutons for that matter. He didn’t especially care, but he did know that they would turn them into an acceptable fighting force, and run the operation much more securely as a result. It would likely not be pleasant, and he felt some guilt as ruining what had seemed to be a good operation with a mildly noble goal.

However, that would mean absolutely nothing if the Collective won. The Nulorian would give the Mutons at least something to fight for, beyond just existing and hoping they were never discovered. He would have to wait and see what the Nulorian could actually send, but in the meantime, he’d sent an encoded message explaining the situation. Maybe they’d think it was too risky, which he was also prepared for.

What absolutely had to be done was closing the Zararch investigation, which was going to be the trickiest thing to do. The Zar’Chon would want, if not results, at least a lead on where to go. Fabricating _anything_ like that was a nightmarish undertaking, and simply setting up scapegoats with planted evidence wouldn’t be enough…

Hmm…unless he could establish an _interplanetary_ smuggling ring? Data could be faked, that wasn’t the issue. The issue would be proof, because who would actually want to be behind that?

He rubbed his eyes. If it were anything else, he would bring down only part of the organization and let the other half live on. Unfortunately, this was too tied to a central location, and the ring of informants and cells would only lead to it. It was too risky to turn _any_ part of it to the Zar’Chon. Not if he actually wanted to use it.

Worst case scenario, he could write this as a loss and move on. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t know what the best solution was. He supposed he could kill Merina, turn her over, say she fought and he had to kill her, and forge data to lead to somewhere else on the planet…

Hm. Maybe. Something to figure out.

He glanced down at his datapad. Hopefully the Nulorian would respond with something. It would at least give him some indicator on if he should continue focusing on this planet, or wrap this up completely.

There were no good solutions here.

But he’d have to make the best of it.

***

_Sydney Outskirts – Australia_

_11/21/2016 – 12:11 A.M._

The gathered army of the Chronicler was an awe-inspiring sight, and one that even the aliens would be intimidated by. They were no longer the normal aliens she’d seen, but altered similar to how Harper and his people were. They wielded similar-looking particle rifles, and wore armor similar to the grey stonish armor the Chronicler himself wore.

The only exception to this were the Andromedons, who now sported various organic-like attachments to their suits. “They aren’t going to know what hit them,” Harper said grimly, walking up to her. She still wasn’t used to how he looked now. Harper, and all of his soldiers who had joined him, were now clearly…altered.

The most noticeable were the eyes. They appeared to be somewhat mechanical in nature, and the irises were a glowing blue, with no other colors whatsoever. There was something unsettling about looking into them, and the much more subtle change was that to their skin, which was a shade darker than it was before. Harper had explained this as some kind of…recovery layer, and had demonstrated by cutting his arm and she’d seen the wound almost immediately close.

Still, Abby had to agree with him. “No, they won’t.”

In the distance was Sydney, which had now been turned into an alien stronghold. They must have seen them coming, because there were at least a thousand Mutons in the distance taking up positions in fortifications, barricades, and towers just outside the city, joined by various Vitakara. She wondered what they were thinking, as Australia was the last place they’d expect a major confrontation.

She looked down at her own gauntlets, the same stony texture and color as the rest of the armor the Chronicler and his army wore. It was without a doubt the most comfortable armor she’d ever worn, and durability-wise, it probably ranked up there as well. Like the weapons, the complete interior of the armor had been riddled with the wires which were now embedded in her entire body.

Abby had tried not to think about it as she’d geared up. Even if it didn’t hurt, it made her acutely aware that she was essentially joining with the armor, which was probably why it had adjusted itself after she’d worn it a few minutes, and she noticed continuous tinkering to weight and tightness as it tried to form to what she wanted.

It also had a neat feature which would allow her to go invisible whenever she wanted. Like the weapon, all she had to do was _think_ what she wanted, and it would happen. As far as she knew, there wasn’t a hard limit on time, which raised the question of just how the hell this thing was powered.

That she’d have to investigate later, but as the small army marched forward, she felt she would be putting it to its limits soon. She flipped the helmet around in her hands and put it on, feeling the wires begin the unsettling penetration of her face (eyes and nostrils included), and skull. Abby really wanted to know what the original designer of this technology was thinking when coming up with that feature, because as useful as it seemed to be, it would completely freak out most people.

“Quite impressive, isn’t it,” the Chronicler commented, walking up in full armor and hands clasped behind his back. He certainly was pleased with himself.

Abby nodded. “I really want to know where the hell you got all this stuff.”

The Chronicler chuckled. “That’s a secret I’ll keep for now; suffice to say it is quite scalable.”

“It would also help if you gave this to XCOM or ADVENT,” she added. “Assuming this is as good as you say…we could use it.”

“Trust me when I say that is a bad idea,” the Chronicler warned, glancing to her. “Everything has a cost to use, and technology like this…is best kept away from government and paramilitary organizations. For more reasons than one.”

“Even when the world is at stake?”

“Yes.” He answered firmly. “I’m afraid you can’t fully grasp the consequences without certain…sacrifices. Harper knows now, as do those who joined him. I cannot say more than that.”

That didn’t make much sense, but Abby couldn’t help but feel some agreement with him. Whatever these weapons and armor were, they were far beyond _Ethereal_ tech, and Abby didn’t know if they should be touching this without figuring out how something like this worked, because so much of it didn’t seem possible in the first place.

Besides, the Chronicler was still going to use them, and if things got too bad, he could probably arrive and assist ADVENT or XCOM. However, that wouldn’t happen until Australia was taken, which could be some time yet. It would ultimately depend on how the upcoming battle for Sydney went. All signs pointed to a victory.

But she wouldn’t believe that until the last alien had been executed.

***

_Portland, Oregon – United States of America_

_11/20/2016 – 8:01 P.M._

Roman and his team were mostly prepared for the surprise attack. So surprising, in fact, that no one had really been told until a few hours ago. Apparently ADVENT wasn’t going to sit back and let the aliens retaliate and had decided to just try and take back America for good. One massive strike into the heart of their territory.

He quite liked the plan.

He did _not_ like, however, relying on the trains to take them there. Assuming that the aliens hadn’t touched the tracks with mines or explosives, he just didn’t like trains. Not exactly the best reason, but he found them uncomfortable, confining, and loud. But they all had to make sacrifices, and he had to admit it was a good way to get people excited to be the first out and in.

“[Hope the mindrapers don’t show up this time,]” Elena muttered as they moved to board the trains. She’d recovered with no visible injuries from the battle, although she’d been shaken for some time. Roman didn’t know how recovered she _actually_ was, but she’d told him enough about how completely terrifying the feeling of losing control was.

The more he thought about it, the more Roman didn’t like psionics. It seemed to cause a lot more problems than it fixed. But that wasn’t how the world worked, and they needed to harness the power themselves to fight it. An endless loop, and ADVENT had adapted in kind with the new PRIEST Division, their own army of psions.

“[We’ve got some of our own now,]” Anton said, patting his rifle. “[Think the greys will be more focused on them than us ordinary soldiers.]”

“[Either way, this is going to spook them,]” Galina commented as a team of Lancers boarded. “[I don’t know what they were waiting for, but I’m looking forward to killing a few dozen more of them.]”

“[Get in line,]” Roman smirked as he did one final equipment check. “[The only good aliens are dead aliens.]”

“[It’s a bit funny,]” Elena said. “[I’ve wanted to visit California. But I didn’t expect that to happen while liberating it.]”

“[Assuming that there’s anyone left,]” Konstantin pointed out grimly. “[Doesn’t make sense to keep a lot of civilians around. If I were them, I’d have gotten rid of them a while ago.]”

Roman felt he was correct. As nice as it would be to personally liberate the cities, the aliens probably wouldn’t risk keeping Humans around, especially with ADVENT so close already. He hoped that they were still alive, but he supposed considering what the aliens did to the captives…perhaps it was better that they weren’t.

All they could do was avenge.

And that was something all of them were prepared to do.

***

_ADVENT Command – Switzerland_

_11/20/2016 – 10:55 P.M._

_“The final preparations have been completed,”_ Commander Christiaens informed Saudia through the holographic display. She was joined by a fully armored Weekes, Finn, and the Commander of XCOM. _“All forces are prepared and ready to deploy.”_

 _“There are multiple PRIEST Squads prepared and ready to assist,”_ Finn added. _“Both Archpriests of America, and two dozen Protopriests are awaiting the order.”_

“Noted, Vicar General,” Saudia confirmed. She was extremely interested to see just how large an effect the PRIESTs ended up having in the battle. Psions could change the course of battles, and having this many on their side? That could ultimately save them. But still, everything had to go exceptionally well.

 _“I have six XCOM Squads ready to deploy, and two held in reserve in case the Battlemaster or Caelior arrive,”_ the Commander added, who actually wasn’t armored, which likely meant he would be assisting Laura at the Citadel. _“I believe we are ready to begin. There is no point delaying; we’ve been lucky they haven’t done anything until this point.”_

 _“On that we agree,”_ Weekes said, giving a sidelong look at the Commander. _“The Lancers are also ready, and now that the Hussar, Cuirassier and Dragoon Corps are also cleared for deployment, they have been prepared to assist as needed.”_

“Excellent, you have my authorization to launch Operations Kraken, Sherman, and Kamehameha,” she stated. “I will inform the public tomorrow morning when the operations are fully underway. Congress will be notified as well, and they will begin drafting legislation for funding for rebuilding and projects, should you succeed.”

 _“How familiar are they with this?”_ The Commander asked.

“Familiar enough,” Saudia clarified. “They are aware that we have several major operations being planned, and that we will be launching them soon. This will not be a surprise to them.”

 _“I have also ordered Korea be put on guard,”_ Laura added. _“If the aliens retaliate anywhere, it will likely be there. We should anticipate a war on two fronts within the next couple days. This could turn into a siege, Chancellor, be sure to warm the public to that idea. Not every battle is going to be done within one day.”_

“Noted, Commander,” Saudia nodded. “Good luck to all of you. You will have whatever support you need, and that of ADVENT as well. Wipe the aliens out.”

Weekes gave a wide smile. _“With pleasure, Chancellor.”_

All the holograms winked out, and Saudia sat down in the chair behind her. Everything was coming together much better than she’d hoped, which made her wonder what they were missing. Contingencies were in place, preparations were made, and they were rested and ready for battle.

Perhaps she wasn’t missing anything. Maybe they had done everything right.

But it was always the unexpected that ruined plans, and that was what she was ultimately concerned about. They could only push the aliens so far before they started an escalation. But that was inevitable.

They wanted a war. Now they were going to learn what that really meant.


	28. Operation: Sherman

 

_North Pacific Ocean – Near Hawaii_

_Operation: Kamehameha – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 1:43 A.M._

There was something exciting about being on the edge of a massive US carrier, surrounded by a half-dozen destroyers, a cruiser, and an even larger amount of submarines beneath the ocean, all moving towards an enemy target in the dead of night. Sierra smiled.

The aliens had no clue what was about to hit them.

“Twenty minutes at most,” Carmelita said, walking up with her helmet tucked under her arm. “Your team is ready?”

“Of course we’re ready,” Anna grumbled beside Sierra. “Fun as these suits are, they’re not exactly light.”

Carmelita’s lip twitched, perhaps in amusement. “Noted, Archangel. You’ll have free reign to attack initial defenses. They likely have AA defenses, so be aware.”

Sierra looked towards the direction of where they were headed. The island of Hawai’i was now in sight, and the ADVENT soldiers were getting ready to deploy; set in specific formations as they prepared to deploy in the helicopters and on the boats with the amphibious assault ships from the supporting expeditionary strike group. Lines of MDUs were visible on the destroyers, also preparing for deployment, while the carrier held the majority of soldiers themselves.

ADVENT was not using their standard soldiers for the initial push, but their elite, including the newly deployed Priests. The standard units that were on the ships were ADVENT Snipers and their respective Officers, who would coordinate sniper fire from the ships while the initial sea invasion began. The landing ships were filled with Shieldbearers, Engineers, and Molosser Handlers.

However, the first wave of ships would be the ADVENT Special Forces, the XCOM squad, and Priests. The Lancers were there, but they were not the most visible ones anymore. It turned out that ADVENT was also using this battle to launch their additional special forces groups, which while not as elite as Lancers, were probably close to their level of lethality.

Dragoons appeared to be Lancers, only with a lot more explosive equipment. Their armor was somehow bulkier, with rocket launchers strapped to their backs and micro-missile launchers built into their gauntlets and additional attachments on their shoulders. Grenades were also strapped to their waists, and some had grenade launchers instead of rocket launchers. Unlike the Lancers who had black armor, theirs was a mixture of black and red, the red color accenting their helmets, gauntlets, and torso.

The other special forces group were the Cuirassiers, who were much more numerous, and what Sierra considered a more ‘generic’ variant, although she wasn’t sure of that. None of the Cuirassiers were as heavily armed, and some actually appeared to be medics instead of purely soldiers. Their armor was much different as well, it wasn’t as blocky and more form-fitting, and was a dull white with blue accents.

The Priests though, those were definitely the ones that grabbed the attention of not just her, but most of the other soldiers as well. Their armor was similar to most in ADVENT, but it was more…elaborate. There were golden engravings on the pure white armor, reminiscent of the religious influence that seemed to permeate their ranks. All wore shoulder capes, similar to the Officers, and their helmets were noticeably unique. It was more elongated, and resembled more of a blast shield over the face, with no obvious eye sockets or breathing apparatuses.

There were two types she could see, the basic Priests, and the leaders, Protopriests. The Protopriests were distinguished by their golden capes and accented armor of the same color. The golden engraving turned to white if the area around it was colored as well. The Priest armor was without a doubt something she loved artistically. Probably didn’t need to be like that, but Sierra was not complaining.

“Well, this is where the fun begins,” Ted commented as the island grew larger in the distance. He flexed his hand, creating a small ball of psionic energy in it, then made it dissipate just as quickly. “Always wondered if I’d be a part of something like this.”

Sierra chuckled. “Copy that.”

“I’d ready your jets,” Carmelita said, as a klaxon began blaring. “The attack is getting ready to start.”

It definitely was. Jets on the carrier were getting warmed up and moving into position. The landing ships were now accelerating towards the island, and the destroyers were angling their guns towards the island. Their cue to attack would be when the jets launched, and that was going to come in a matter of minutes.

 _“This is Admiral Walter to all ADVENT Forces,”_ the Admiral, and commander in charge of this mission began broadcasting. _“This operation is authorized to begin immediately. Today we purge the aliens from our homes and land. It is not the first time we have suffered loss at this place, but today we ensure that it will be avenged. Remember the lives lost to these aliens, and return the favor in kind. Begin the attack, Admiral Walter out.”_

“Cleared for takeoff!” One of the personnel directing the planes yelled over the sound of the roaring jets.

“Our turn as well,” Sierra said, transitioning to her piloting mode. At her mental command, the Archangel armor began roaring to life and with a running leap she shot into the air.

“Seraph Morrow to Overseer Alba,” she said as they began speeding towards the island. “We are airborne and heading to the target island.”

 _“Copy, Seraph,”_ Carmelita’s brisk voice answered. _“We’ll be right behind you. Save some for us.”_

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Sierra commented as she had her HUD zoom into the initial defenses. The night vision of the armor was good, although not as clear as she was accustomed to. Still, she immediately spotted the defenses around the town of Hilo. The aliens hadn’t just fortified the town, they’d turned it, and the coast as far as she could see, into a fortress.

“Lower altitude,” Sierra ordered. “Increase speed and ready weapons. We don’t want them sniping us out of the air yet.”

_“Yet?”_

“Figure of speech,” Sierra snorted. “You know what I mean.”

_“Copy,”_

They swooped lower until there were roughly five feet above the swirling water itself. Even at night Sierra could still make out the blue, although that was probably distortion from the visual feed. Sierra readied her flamethrower, making sure everything was checked ready to use. “Up on the wall, unload at will,” she commanded, and once they got close enough, Sierra angled herself upward and forced a hard stop to her suit.

Just over the height of the wall she raised her wrist and unleashed a sustained gout of flame at the unfortunate aliens patrolling it. They were Vitakarians and Cobrarian who barely had time to scream before the white-orange flame cooked them alive in their armor. Behind them was a barracks of sorts where Mutons and Vitakara began running to get armed and into position.

As Sierra swept her flame gauntlet along the wall, Anna fired her White Phosphorus missile into the mix of aliens, and immediately followed up by tossing several WP grenades to places where the missile hadn’t reached. Ted, psionic energy swirling around his body and especially arms, shot lances of psionic energy at the laser and plasma turret emplacements which were turning their positions to the encroaching ADVENT fleet.

Sierra ceased her dispersal of flame, and pulled out her Gauss rifle and began firing at anything still left alive from the white phosphorus. She scored several kills and headshots as more Mutons began arriving from the connected parts of the base, and now plasma filled the air around her. “Scatter!” She ordered, and immediately took evasive action. And that was when the fleet began their bombardment.

Cracks and bursts of orange light in the distance signaled the guns of the destroyers firing, and the wall was hit with high-powered shells and gauss rounds. One of the alien outposts along the wall splintered and killed the lookouts inside who were communicating frantically, likely to somewhere off-planet.

 _“We should move along the wall,”_ Ted suggested as he glided beside her. _“Let’s give all the soldiers a fair chance.”_

“Good idea,” Sierra confirmed, and angled herself towards gliding along the wall, braking, ascending, and falling as she and the rest of her Host picked off the aliens on it little by little, making it near-impossible for them to even see what was coming, much less prepare for it. Plasma shot into the sky around them, but only a few glancing hits were suffered, and behind them the invasion force advanced, and when it hit land, it would spell the end for the aliens.

Ted gestured and a Muton was engulfed in a small psionic storm, roaring as it fell off the edge, while Anna blasted two Cobrarians apart and Sierra took a more direct approach by swooping around in a tight circle and getting close enough to grab one or two Vitakarians by the arm and fling them into the ocean to either drown or be killed by the coming soldiers.

Another burst of flame from her wrist incinerated another tower, and with that the landing ships were close enough and the Lancers, Cuirassiers, Dragoons, and Priests stormed the beaches. Purple already flared from the Priests as they directed their power at the wall, and the Dragoons raised their explosive devices in the same direction.

Sections of the wall were slammed, cracked, and destroyed in quick succession, and the Lancers led the charge through the breaches. The battle of Hawaii had now truly begun.

***

_Sydney Outskirts – Australia_

_11/21/2016 – 4:30 A.M._

The bright moon illuminated the small army marching on Sydney, the Chronicler and his five new followers leading the army, composed of dominated aliens under the thrall of the Chronicler’s psionic power, or perhaps his technology. Abby wasn’t sure anymore. She hung towards the back, having a clear view of the entire battlefield, but suspected that it was going to become exceptionally dangerous for her, and she hadn’t been…improved…like the others.

Best to stay out of the way, and kill what aliens she could.

There would be several stages to his attack, as the city itself was surrounded by now-abandoned residential areas; empty buildings and houses that the aliens had either destroyed themselves or converted into defenses. From what was built before them, it seemed to have largely been the latter. The houses had their roofs completely redone, with turrets and sniping nests on top, and before them were alloy barricades and ground turrets.

For whatever network the Chronicler was using, she was on it, and when the command _“Open fire!”_ was given, she was ready.

The army raised their weapons in unison and began firing. Blue beams of energy slammed into the aliens who had refrained from firing since they’d clearly not known what they were. They paid for that with their lives as the beams cut through the encroaching and exposed Muton force, and shredded the static defenses with ease.

Instantly a city-wide klaxon rang out, and the other defense-houses went on alert, and plasma joined the blue beams in lighting up the battlefield. The Chronicler raised a fist, and the army stopped on cue as a massive purple shield appeared in front of them, easily absorbing all the oncoming fire, and while it completely protected the army, no small feat, it did allow the aliens to begin to organize.

 _“Submit to me,”_ the Chronicler growled, extending his other hand towards the mass largely mae up by Mutons and some Vitakara. _“Forfeit your mind!”_

Immediately the plasma turned towards the emplacements and within several more minutes they were destroyed. The Chronicler released the shield and kept marching forward, Abby continuing to follow. The dominated aliens now formed the front line of his army, and they were coming up on stronger defenses, who were as prepared as they could be.

And unlike the previous force, these were not just organic units, but Sectopods and Cyberdisks as well, with their Drone escorts. Green plasma bolts slammed into the compromised Muton line, downing several immediately, as the rest of the alien forces opened fire. The Chronicler’s army responded in kind, firing their particle beams at the defenders.

The defensive lines were a series of interconnected houses that had undergone similar conversion, with a multitude of turrets, lined by Muton and Vitakara soldiers, with Andromedon engineers. Snipers were deeper in the city, and Cyberdisks hovered above. To the sides were the two Sectopods, plasma guns extending from the ports in their main ‘pods’.

The aliens were already spread out, and the Chronicler’s army responded in kind as plasma rained down upon them, quickly slaughtering the front line, but Abby was pretty sure that was the purpose the Chronicler had intended for them. The stony-armored aliens proved more durable, with plasma shots seeming to be absorbed into the armor, only leaving black residue behind.

As before, the beams shredded the insufficient barricades, with confused alien shouts and cries coming from the alien lines. One of the Chronicler’s new agents, she couldn’t tell if it was Harper or another one of his men, lifted a hand and blue energy seemed to materialize around the palm before it shot out towards the alien line.

The sustained beam of…energy…Abby didn’t think it was psionics, but another application of the Chronicler’s particle weaponry, it easily cut through the Cyberdisk line, causing the machines to explode or simply fall to the ground in pieces, killing or grievously wounding the aliens underneath them. The rest of Harper’s people performed similarly, one aiming at the right-most Sectopod, directly into the place where the main beam was.

The machine tried to get away, but the slow and cumbersome alien machine could not do so fast enough. It took nearly fifteen seconds, but the beam penetrated the armor and burned into the heart of the Sectopod, causing it to explode in a rain of fire and metal, shaking the ground beneath it. The Chronicler raised a hand towards the other one and it was lifted into the air.

Abby could hear the metal groaning as the Chronicler slowly crushed it, dents first appeared on the outside, and the shell slowly began crumpling. Fluids leaked, and small internal explosions were heard. The sound of metal snapping and bending like cheap plastic were the final sounds of death for the towering alien machine, which was tossed aside with a flick of the Chronicler’s wrist as he continued his march forward. _“Continue. They will not survive today.”_

The surviving aliens were retreating, and flat-out running away, even the Mutons. The Chronicler, voice altered by his psionic usage, chuckled and sharply swept out an arm in front of him, with an arc of energy following his movement. The crackling purple arc swept towards the retreating aliens. It did minimal damage to the buildings themselves, albeit leaving cracks in the structures, but it was instantaneous death to the aliens it hit.

Vitakara and Mutons were bisected from the psionic arc traveling right through them with little resistance, with most not dying instantly. The upper torsos were writhing on the ground, screams from the Vitakara reaching their ears as they bled out slowly, and even the Mutons were unable to suppress the pain of being cut in half.

The Andromedons, what few of them there were, had also died from suit ruptures caused by the arc of energy. But the suits themselves were not gone, and turned to face the Chronicler’s army before being shredded by the hundreds of particle beams. Unabated, the near-silent army continued forward over the rubble, corpses, and metal. There was the occasional blast of blue from a mercy kill, but otherwise there was nothing.

Now came the next phase, after some open land that had clearly been razed by the aliens. The city proper was visibly in the distance, but there were still plenty of residential districts to go. Just from what she’d seen, Abby figured that the Commander was _probably_ going to be fine with the Chronicler running things here.

It probably wasn’t safe to do otherwise, and the Chronicler had not even suffered a single casualty, aside from the recently dominated aliens.

The next defensive structure was dead ahead; similar to the second one, it was an interconnected series of converted houses and barricades, but stretched much farther. _“Coming from the side,”_ Harper informed as the Chronicler’s army suddenly formed a semi-circle as aliens began firing not just from ahead, but from the sides as well.

Abby took cover from behind a tree, glad she hadn’t stayed in the middle, because as good as the armor was, the hailstorm of green plasma hitting the aliens could not be good for integrity. She supposed that it should be expected that the aliens could flank them, given that they were the equivalent of a dagger striking the heart of the city.

They couldn’t hit _every_ perimeter defense.

Andromedon Battlefield Engineers were deploying their shields from the sides, and these were sufficient to provide protection from the particle weapons, although it could apparently be overloaded much easier, since she saw some of the generators explode after a sustained barrage.

Abby looked up and saw a cloud of Cyberdisks flying in from throughout the entire city, and deploying into their battle mode from a good distance away. Sectopods stomped over from the sides, and didn’t bother deploying their guns, only opening up their center pods and charging the main laser. Harper and his soldiers were using their palm-weapons and slicing through generators, aliens, and cyberdisks, but they seemed to be suffering some damage.

A shot from deeper in the city hit one of the Chronicler’s Mutons in the head, and it collapsed with the head smoking, the first casualty suffered. The Chronicler, lifted his arms and twin barricades in front of the Sectopod beams appeared, just as they fired. _“Enough.”_ At that statement all the organic aliens clutched their heads, screaming in pain.

One Sectopod was raised into the air, and flung towards the other causing both to tumble away in a crumpled ball of metal, fluids, and explosions. For good measure, a flat, psionic shield slammed down onto the wrecks, smashing it beyond all repair. Whatever the Chronicler was doing to the living aliens, it was awful enough where the Vitakara were shooting themselves in the head, and Mutons were trying to bash their heads on walls or sharp objects.

Harper and his soldiers destroyed the rest of the turret emplacements and Cyberdisks, and with no more plasma fire raining upon them, the rest of the Chronicler’s army put the rest of the living aliens out of their misery until there was a brief silence on the battlefield. Three had died so far, and considering how close they were, that was almost perfect.

Sniper fire still came from within the city, but it was intermittent, and the Chronicler had a shield in front of them as they continued marching forward, ever deeper into the heart of the alien operations in Australia.

Abby realized that she hadn’t had to fire her weapon once yet. For as much danger as they should be in, she felt strangely calm. With the Chronicler around, there didn’t seem to be any reason to be afraid.

She would have wanted to know exactly what the aliens were thinking.

She hoped _they_ were scared for once.

***

_Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit_

_11/21/2016 – 5:15 A.M._

When Ravarian had been woken up by reports of attacks, the first odd thought that came to his mind was _Hawaii? Why attack Hawaii of all places?_

And not only were they attacking Hawaii, they were clearly intending to _conquer_ Hawaii. Ravarian knew that they had to use their navy at some point, but had expected them to focus on defenses rather than for attacking a lone series of islands. It was strange, no matter how much he thought about it. He understood that the islands had sentimental value, especially for Americans, but in the end, it was a small series of islands in the ocean.

The main hub of the Observation Station was as chaotic as it had ever been. Several dozen analysts and Runianarch strategists were centered around haptic consoles or holographic displays showing feeds from the battles going on.

The short version was that it was going _badly_.

ADVENT had indeed been working on a psionic branch of their military, and from the footage he’d seen, they were much more dangerous than the Vanguards. There was some obvious variance, but their most powerful Priests easily eclipsed the static capabilities of the Vanguards. He kept his expression clear as he saw two Priests annihilate an entire Muton team, psionically ripping them apart and leaving a gory mess behind.

The Battlemaster was coordinating reinforcements, but at least half the islands had been lost already, and it was going to take an emergency Gatekeeper to have things stabilize, as well as liberal deployments of Muton Elites and Andromedons. Resources that _shouldn’t_ be devoted to an island. Were it up to him, he would have called a retreat and bombarded the island from orbit.

But that would give ADVENT a victory, and a bigger boost in morale. The Battlemaster had a plan, but what that was had yet to be revealed.

And that was _before_ the attack in Sydney had been reported.

He’d thought he’d misheard at first, but no, _Sydney_ of all places was under attack. No one had been able to identify if it was ADVENT, XCOM, or something else because the reports couldn’t agree what they were being attacked by. _Oyariah_ had been cited as a potential perpetrator, and there were apparently other aliens in the ranks, so likely a telepath was behind this.

And now for the question he was trying to answer: _Why_?

The only possible motive for attacking strange locations, or at least Hawaii, was as a distraction. Was it a distraction for another attack in America? So soon again? Or Japan? ADVENT _had_ been mobilizing forces in America, and they were fortifying in Korea…or were they simply trying to drain the Collective of as many resources as they could? Even if they were ultimately pushed back, it would be the Collective who would suffer a morale loss instead of ADVENT, who could point to the exceptionally high body counts over an unimportant island.

And since they were poorly equipped to fight psions, anything short of bombarding the area was going to cost time, resources, and lives. Ravarian shook his head, just instinctively, thinking how frustratingly slow the Collective was to _adapt_ at times. At some point they needed to be able to win against ADVENT _without_ relying on an Ethereal to ensure victory.

_Return to your chambers, Zar’Chon, it is time to discuss the situation._

Quisilia. About time.

Without a word he turned on his heel and began walking towards the cylinder lift that would take him to his chambers. Australia was Quisilia’s sphere of influence, so perhaps he would have some idea of what was actually going on. A few minutes later he was in the circular and dimly lit room that had a haptic map of Hawaii and Australia, with the Battlemaster and Quisilia standing over it.

“Battlemaster,” Ravarian inclined his head. “What are we planning in retaliation?”

“I’ve ordered transport reinforcements with a fighter escort,” the Battlemaster answered immediately. “Gateways are inefficient, but they will assist in stemming the advance of ADVENT. These Priests are more numerous and dangerous than anticipated.”

If _only_ there had been some warning that ADVENT was probably _doing_ something like this.

He knew better than to speak that, but he sometimes wondered what the point of his job was if the information he gathered wasn’t actually _used_. The Battlemaster was smart, he couldn’t deny that, but when it came to Earth it was almost like he _wanted_ the Humans to get continuously stronger, and watch what they were doing instead of intervening in any way.

At some points he wondered if the goals of the Ethereals had changed.

_Not changed, but the Battlemaster wants to know the capabilities of the Humans before responding in kind. There is only so much more they can do. They have copied our weapons, armor, and now psionics. What do they have left after this?_

Quisilia. While Ravarian could _intrinsically_ see some value in letting the enemy overdevelop and tailor exact responses to that…it still struck him as unnecessary. But that was something to consider for another time. They had a crisis to resolve. “Reinforcements will be needed. Should I request Cleanser Ships?”

The Battlemaster looked at him, considering for a moment. “Request a unit. Hold them here, and do not deploy without my order. Now that ADVENT has a critical amount of psions, additional measures will need to be taken.” He returned his concentration to the haptic map, which was a real-time display showing the territory captured by ADVENT so far. “ADVENT has established mobile Gateways, and their forces are comprised of largely special forces and elite units. Losses they suffer will hurt them.”

The development of Gateways had been an initial surprise, but Ravarian didn’t consider it completely surprising as they were supported by the traitor Ethereal. They had reports of them being built in cities, so their usage in battle was expected.

“Numbers will do little good,” Quisilia noted. “The Lancers especially are enhanced, not to mention XCOM and the Priests.”

“Yes, which is why we will begin deploying several of Fectorian’s units,” the Battlemaster answered. “Elites will also be used. I intend to bleed ADVENT in this fight; winning is unlikely and intervening over an island isn’t a priority.”

Quisilia turned his head toward him. “The Spectres?”

“No. This is a distraction for ADVENT. The Spectres will be useful when their true attack strikes.”

“It’s been hours since their attack,” Ravarian reminded him. “If this was a distraction, what are they waiting for?”

“Unknown,” the Battlemaster admitted. “But let them show their hand before we respond. I have put Japan and our outer territories in the United States on alert. But if they march an army our way, we will know ahead of time.”

“Australia is a larger issue,” Quisilia said, moving around to look at the haptic display of Australia. “What is happening is quite curious.”

“Indeed,” Ravarian mentally pulled up the appropriate file and raised his prosthetic hand and projected the holographic image of the mystery army to them. “Whatever they are…they do not appear to be ADVENT. Or XCOM for that matter. Their weapons are shredding our defenses, and there is at least one psion with them.” Ravarian allowed a frown. “This doesn’t make sense. If either organization had developed this level of weaponry, why aren’t they using it?”

“Because they didn’t,” Quisilia mused, looking at the image. “Quite curious. Especially since I made sure that the cells were destroyed beyond salvaging.”

“You mentioned there was a psion that escaped,” the Battlemaster noted. “But one psion should not result in _this_.”

“No,” Quisilia laced his fingers together, sounding amused. “However, it does explain several things. Who else could possibly possess technology more advanced than our own?”

Ravarian cocked his head. “Sovereign tech? Impossible. The Humans would not be able to comprehend it, much less actually construct it. Aside from that, are you suggesting that there is one who is _helping_ them?”

“Not necessarily _helping_ ,” Quisilia said. “But it’s quite possible someone found it, and has devoted their lives to solving its mysteries. Interesting they would emerge now. We know they have visited this planet before, as they directed us toward it, but we always assumed it was because of the Humans…” he trailed off contemplatively. “Perhaps it was something else.”

The Battlemaster looked to Quisilia. “Can you handle it, or will you require assistance?”

“I only require two of the Spectres,” Quisilia said, lacing the fingers of his upper hands together. “I will handle this issue decisively.”

Ravarian knew Quisilia was a master spy, but direct combat did not seem to be his specialty. “With respect, Quisilia, that seems inadequate for the task at hand.”

Quisilia gave a short laugh. “I have killed a Director Flagship, Zar’Chon. I have killed millions of Synthesized thralls. Putting down an army enhanced by the gifts of the Sovereign Ones can be handled, I assure you. And if there is a puppet leading them…I can also handle them.”

He waved a hand and vanished from sight. Ravarian decided to trust Quisilia knew what he was doing. If nothing else, if he got himself killed he really didn’t want to have to look after two cats instead of one.

Right now though, the battle in Hawaii was more important, and he focused his attention on what might possibly be the biggest waste of the war on both sides.

***

_The Island of Hawai’i - Hawaii_

_Operation: Kamehameha – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 6:32 A.M._

The Collective was rallying, for all the good it would do them. With their defenses fully breached, they were fighting ADVENT on a street-by-street level, and while they weren’t pushing them back, they were giving up ground far more slowly. This likely had to do with the sudden influx of Muton Elites, and the Priests had reported being disrupted, which meant a Gatekeeper was probably here.

Their telepathic advantage was unfortunately gone, but _unfortunately_ for the aliens, the Priests were still showing just how lethal they were. Having crossed the current battlefield several times, swooping and flying around it, dodging and tanking plasma fire, Sierra had a pretty good grasp on the state of the battlefield.

Time to focus on where they were needed.

“Destroying the Gateways is the priority,” she said as she fired her pulse rifle at several Vitakara who were trying to set up on one of the rooftops. “But it’s too dangerous to hunt them by ourselves without knowing where they are.”

“ _Not to mention I’m running low on missiles and grenades,”_ Anna added as she swooped to the side, providing suppressive fire on a street held by several Mutons. One was ripped apart and the others were forced back into cover, which let the four Lancers charge forward and kill the stragglers. _“Permission to fly back and restock?”_

“Granted,” Sierra allowed. “Make it fast, me and Ted will provide support in the meantime.”

Anna didn’t waste time and was already flying back to the carrier. Sierra glanced around the battlefield, looking to where help was needed. “Carmelita, what’s your status?”

 _“Making progress,”_ the lightly strained voice of Carmelita answered, sounds of battle in the background. “ _We’ve got around twenty Elites on us and another small army of Mutons. Ah, correction, make that fifteen Elites. We’ve got it under control, and ADVENT is coming to support us.”_

Sierra smirked. “Copy, we’re looking to provide support elsewhere.”

 _“Seraph Morrow, we could use your assistance,”_ the voice of Admiral Walter interjected. _“We’re moving up Purifiers to begin cutting off parts of the city to the aliens and box them in. We would appreciate it if you could clear the area of the majority of hostiles.”_

“Copy that,” Sierra confirmed as the location appeared on her HUD, on the edge of the city. “We’ll be there shortly.”

She angled herself towards the designated location and shot off; Ted was right behind her. _“Purifiers are risky, but they will definitely allow asset denial.”_

“And there they are,” Sierra commented as she saw teams of two Purifiers, with one Priest behind them, moving within the parts of the city ADVENT controlled. They definitely moved like robots, slow and methodical, as if each step could blow them up. Since they were carrying ClF3, this was an actual danger.

Probably what the Priest was for. _“I can see the problem,”_ Ted noted as they came up to the street where the Purifiers were supposed to go. _“God damn Sectopods.”_

An accurate assessment, Sierra had to agree. The two-way street was now utterly wrecked, and there were several dozen Cuirassier and Lancer corpses. This was due to the towering Sectopod in the center of the intersection, flanked by four Cyberdisks. ADVENT was only set up partway down the street, a mix of Dragoons and Cuirassiers firing at it.

The smoking wrecks of several Cyberdisks and the potholed street filled with Muton and Runianarch corpses spoke to some effectiveness, but they were pinned now by the Cyberdisks and Sectopod launching barrages, which only seemed to have had minimal effect due to the two Priests in the back creating psionic bubbles.

However, the relatively untested psions would likely give out after some time. “Provide covering fire,” Sierra instructed, deliberately overshooting the mechanical pod of aliens. “Readying a flame circle.”

 _“Copy,”_ Ted agreed, arms awash in the purple mist of psionic power as he caught the attention of the back row of Cyberdisks, shooting weak lances of energy at them. Golden streaks flew his direction, forcing him to take evasive action and not concentrate on building his power. While he served as the distraction, she readied her flamethrower once more.

While not the liquid hell the Purifiers had, Napalm was still effective. From her knowledge of Cyberdisks, ordinary Napalm wouldn’t be especially effective if they were closed. However, when in their battle configuration, there were many vulnerable components exposed which would melt if exposed to a hot enough flame.

As she circled around, going faster than she’d done before in practicing this maneuver, she raised her wrist in preparation. The force might make her spin out of control, but she was going to have to master this sometime. “Ascend!” She barked as flame spat from her wrist, immediately engulfing the front row of Cyberdisks.

She immediately commanded the jets to angle and spin her around the pod of Cyberdisks and while the sheer force almost made her invert herself, she held on and continued shooting the white-orange flame in a circle of fire that caught all the exposed Cyberdisks in a perfect ball of orange. Several loud pops and sizzles were heard as the machines either fell out of the sky or exploded into scrap metal.

Sierra let out a whoop at the sight, adrenaline flowing through her and she stabilized and shot upward, finally slowing down to observe the results. The Sectopod had slightly turned and partially angled up the main pod towards her, the plasma cannon deploying and beginning to fire. It was obviously unaffected by the fire, but that hadn’t been the goal.

Sierra easily avoided the plasma projectiles, although some got exceptionally close. “ _Keep its attention_!” Ted called, shooting more lances at the Sectopod. _“The Purifiers are here!”_

“Thanks!” Sierra called, firing a sustained beam towards the plasma cannon itself, not really trying to destroy it, she wasn’t stable enough for that, but keep its attention. She zig-zagged, ascended, and descended as Ted scored hits on the hull, corroding the armor and weakening the joints. _Hurry up_ , Sierra thought furiously as the Sectopod was getting more accurate.

 _“Ascend, Archangel Morrow,”_ a synthesized female voice said. _“We do not want you caught in the blast.”_

“Confirmed,” Sierra acknowledged and shot into the sky and angled towards the ADVENT line. She twisted in the air and looked down to see the Purifiers released their payloads. White-orange flame shot from their flamethrowers and the entire street exploded. The Sectopod was almost immediately blow apart as the joints melted and the hellish chemical seeped into every weak point and crevice available. The abandoned cars also went up in explosions, and the asphalt itself caught fire, as did the buildings around it.

“Burn in hell, alien trash,” Sierra muttered to herself as she looked down at the ground which was a sea of fire that spread far down the street. The Purifiers swept their weapons in small arcs to ensure the entire street was literally on fire. She also noted with some amusement that the alien corpses that had littered the street were just gone; likely vaporized from the flame.

As dangerous as it was, she was considering asking Shen to see just how… _safe_ he could make it to carry ClF3. Maybe a small amount?

 _“Did I miss anything-oh,”_ Anna said as she flew towards them, fully reloaded and equipped. _“Nice.”_

“We’re not done yet,” Sierra reminded her. “I doubt that was the only Sectopod, and we’ve still got the Gateways-“

 _“Alien reinforcement ships have just entered the atmosphere,”_ Admiral Walter suddenly interjected on the open channel. _“All air forces initiate temporary retreat. Time to greet our new arrivals.”_

Ted whistled. _“He’s actually going to do it.”_

Sierra grimaced. “I really hated this plan,” she switched the comm channel. “Carmelita?”

 _“We heard,”_ she answered. _“They know what they are doing. Land temporarily just in case.”_

Sierra targeted a flat roof that was a comfortable distance from the burning street, and settled down, just in time to see the faintest image of the alien fleet incoming. “They really want this island,” she commented to no one in particular.

There were at least twenty, maybe more, alien transports likely filled with soldiers flying in, and this was with her HUD as zoomed in as possible. They were surrounded by a mixture of Sectoid Fighters and Scouts, along with odd dagger-shaped ships she hadn’t seen before. They definitely looked like fighters. Vitakara maybe? Andromedon?

 _“Missiles are away,”_ the Admiral said, voice deceptively calm, and Sierra witnessed one, then two, then three nuclear missiles shooting towards the oncoming fleet. Using nuclear weapons was yet another questionable decision ADVENT was making, and she had to wonder just _why_ they thought it was a good idea.

Supposedly the negative effects were lessened in the atmosphere, where it was set to detonate, but considering that there was also an accompanying EMP blast, not to mention that this hadn’t been tested in _decades_ if at all, it seemed like a horrendously bad idea. And if something went wrong, or it detonated too early, well, they might all be vaporized or irradiate part of the ocean.

If it did work, though, she would give credit where it was due. It just seemed a massive risk to just test out. Using conventional missiles seemed safe and just as effective.

She was going to laugh if the aliens just shot it out of the sky though.

“ _So when will it be close enough_?” Ted asked as they watched.

“I’m assuming we’ll know,” Sierra shrugged. “Nuclear weapons aren’t exactly subtle.”

Nearly a half-minute later the sky exploded in a blinding flash that temporarily made her HUD see nothing but white. It was a good thing that the helmet protected her actual sight, otherwise she’d probably be blind. Her vision was temporarily restored, only then two more successive blasts were seen and felt, and when the whiteness finally cleared, there was a smoking cloud in the area where the fleet was. Zooming in, she saw maybe a few pieces of scrap metal, but otherwise, the fleet was just…gone.

She waited a minute, and no other ships emerged from the wreckage. She engaged her engines, and floated a foot or so off the ground. They hadn’t been hit by the EMP aftereffect either, so everything _seemed_ to be ok. She looked back up, and there were still no ships coming. “Well,” she said slowly. “It actually worked.”

“ _I really want to see their faces_ ,” Anna chuckled as they ascended once again. “ _What do you think they’re telling the Battlemaster? ‘Sorry sir, I’m afraid we just lost all our reinforcements.’_ ”

“ _Someone’s probably getting executed,”_ Ted commented. “ _Alright, we should go hunt down those Gateways. And we have a Gatekeeper to kill.”_

“It might be more effective if one of us just carries a Purifier wherever we go,” Sierra suggested half-seriously as they shot towards the battle once more. “I mean, they destroy _Sectopods_ in one hit.”

 _“Take it up with Viktoria,”_ Anna chuckled. _“But I’m pretty sure additional passengers are not recommended.”_

“In that case,” Sierra said as she checked the status on her gear. “We’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got.”

***

_ADVENT Media Center – Switzerland_

_11/21/2018 – 9:18 A.M._

The Media Center ADVENT had constructed was one of the less grandiose buildings she normally was in, and she quite liked it for that. It had some of the tightest and most up-to-date security measures invented and rigorous identity checks and facial recognition systems, with ADVENT Intelligence agents watching ensured that no one entered without authorization.

As disconcerting as it seemed for the media, at the very minimum they could be assured that they would be completely safe within the walls. As far as media centers went, Saudia was quite pleased with how it worked. Communication was essential, and if the media was to (hopefully) be an effective source of information, they should have access to pertinent information.

The main lobby of the building had multiple kiosks and rooms for each different branch and agency of ADVENT for the sole purpose of communicating with the media. While not all of them were open 24-7, they were open every day, for the majority of the day. The media was likewise unrestricted in when they chose to take advantage of this opportunity. They could arrive anytime, and either speak with a representative or schedule a meeting with someone even higher up.

As far as Saudia was concerned, when it came to transparency, they had no reason to complain. Of course not everyone was allowed; reporters for extremist, intentionally slanted, or otherwise sources of disinformation were not allowed. The bar of entry was not what she considered exceptionally high, and any media outlet, including those existing on social media such as Twitter and Youtube could participate provided they could prove that their reporting had clear effort put into it in the interest of informing the public.

And to make it better, there was a small restaurant that served multiple kinds of meals that were on the house for ADVENT. Free food and drink always made people more agreeable and dispelled the irritated attitudes people sometimes had. It was hard to write a hit piece on the evil authoritarian ADVENT when they made you steak and a nice cool tea. Or coffee in the morning.

The main briefing room itself was fairly standard. Red carpet lined the floor, and chairs filled the rectangular rooms in a neat order. At the end was an elevated platform and podium which the main speaker presented from. Behind the podium was a white wall with a red and black ADVENT banner hanging down. There were always two SSR soldiers who stood behind the speaker, as well as two guards per door in the event of emergencies.

It wasn’t _uncommon_ that she addressed the Press, but it was usually scheduled in advance and rarely this early. The room was always filled to the brim, and today was no exception as the media had been reporting nonstop about the sudden attack on Hawaii, and now that the trains had been deployed, they would soon be talking about the rest of the attack.

Three nukes had been launched into the air from the latest reports, which had so far caused no negative effects other than wiping out an entire fleet of alien reinforcements. She had breathed a sigh of relief at that, because as much as the scientists had assured her it was mostly safe, using nuclear weapons was always a risk.

Nonetheless, her risk had paid off and Hawaii would almost certainly fall to ADVENT.

Now, time to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and all citizens of ADVENT. By now you are likely aware of the current military operation taking place in Hawaii.” On cue the reporters scribbled on their notepads and tapped on their phones. “I can confirm that yesterday I, along with the ADVENT Military, Intelligence, and XCOM, authorized an operation to retake Hawaii…”

She paused once again. “In addition to the remainder of the United States,” she raised her voice slightly at the sudden burst of gasps and whispers. “This operation is commencing as we speak, and will strike directly into the heart of alien controlled territory in the country.”

Saudia let that revelation sink in for a few seconds. “The latest reports from Hawaii are extremely positive. We have caught them by surprise and are currently pushing them back until every last one is either captured or executed. Their reinforcements have been annihilated due to our strategic usage of surgical nuclear missiles, which have been deployed in such a way that the negative repercussions are negligible, and the alien reinforcement fleet is in ruins, leaving the islands free for our soldiers to take.”

She briefly swept her gaze across the room. “As for the mainland operation, it is too early to say, but I have every confidence in our brave soldiers who are fighting to ensure that each and every citizen of ADVENT is protected from the aliens. Each of you will be continually updated as the situation develops, and there will be no questions today, thank you all.”

Saudia gave the ADVENT salute and stepped down. Despite what she’d said, the Press always shouted questions as if they expected an answer…just after she had said she wouldn’t.

Maybe she should write a rule against that.

A minute problem for another day. Right now she had an operation to oversee, and she sincerely hoped that it would continue going as well as it had been so far.

***

_Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit_

_11/21/2016 – 7:07 A.M._

Ravarian, along with most of the Vitakara in the main station command center stared in disbelief at…well, it was a blank screen now. There was nothing left. Disciple-7, who had been assisting in determining resources and tactics, was equally silent. “Are there any left?” He finally rumbled.

“No,” one of the analysts, a worried Vitakarian woman, said meekly. “No signals or feeds. All of them are gone.”

Ravarian was trying to think of _what_ the Humans could possibly have that could wipe out an _entire_ landing fleet. Three missiles had been detected, but they assumed that even if they hit, the damage would be minimal, and unless they had developed some kind of super missile, even their largest ones shouldn’t have wiped _everything_ out.

 _What the fuck happened?_ That was what he wanted to say, as Humans did have excellent phrases for almost any situation, but at the moment, the last thing _any_ of them needed to be reminded of was the word _Human_.

“ADVENT aircraft pulled back before the missile launches, yes?” Disciple-7 asked suddenly.

“Yes,” another analyst confirmed. “The spotted Archangel units also temporarily landed.”

“The scenarios are limited,” Disciple-7 said slowly. “ADVENT has either developed a high-yield anti-aircraft missile, or they have launched nuclear weapons. Considering nuclear weapons often disperse an EMP blast, it is imperative that all aircraft and vehicles be outside the radius. As nuclear weapons launched in the atmosphere have limited damaging effects on the environment, using them in this scenario is plausible.”

“Feed from the ground coming in now!” Another analyst called out, and the holographic display showed the airspace the reinforcements had once occupied, which now bore the telltale sign of the nuclear mushroom cloud.

Well, they’d actually done it. Ravarian had wondered if they would resort to using their effective, but highly destructive weapons. Given their historical averseness to the weapons, he had expected it to only come in the later stages in the war, and against ground or high-value targets. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to him that they could be potent air weapons as well.

Regardless of the reasoning, ADVENT was now willing to use nuclear weapons, and they were also capable of vaporizing entire reinforcement fleets. Which _potentially_ meant that any entry point was now a hazard. And in major operations like attacking entire countries, that would not be a massive target for their nuclear submarines.

And to think he’d actually suggested utilizing the Andromedon Aquatic Forces. Maybe if the Battlemaster had actually taken his advice, they wouldn’t be in this situation now. He was going to bring it up again, now that he’d been proven right here.

At the irritating cost of an entire reinforcement fleet.

The situation suddenly became worse.

“Outpost Two-One is under attack!” One Zararch officer said in disbelief, as the area pulsated red on the holomap. It was joined by more blimps of red. “So is Outpost Seventeen! Eleven!”

Ravarian blinked. This was the expected counterattack, but there shouldn’t have been any surprises. ADVENT couldn’t move an entire army without being watched, and he had his agents watching the main Legions. “How?” He demanded. “How heavy is the attack?”

“Uh…” The officer looked down, briefly speechless. “It appears the outposts affected are…gone.”

“Sacramento, Los Angeles and Redding Bases are under attack!” Another called out.

“What do you mean _gone_?” Ravarian demanded.

“They aren’t responding,” the Officer said slowly. “The main feeds are offline. Communication is cut. I would suggest it was a bomb…but there was no aircraft reported in the area.”

“How are they attacking the major bases?” Disciple-7 demanded harshly.

“Pulling up feeds,” an analyst said. “Center display.”

And Ravarian was greeted with a very familiar sight. “Trains.” He said without any emotion. He didn’t think there were any other words needed to describe the situation. There were those armored trains his agents had reported, except they were now outside the bases and carrying ADVENT soldiers and equipment. There were turrets on them as well, already firing into Collective defenses.

There were no other words for what he was feeling now; like an idiot.

_So that’s what they were for._

He had literally had the information in his hands, and misinterpreted it. Granted, he didn’t know how much blame he should take, and trains were almost never used for anything beyond transportation. He doubted they had ever actually been used in battle before now, but history didn’t matter. The railways they hadn’t really thought to do anything with, and ADVENT was taking full advantage of their ignorance.

He had to admit, they’d outsmarted him here.

“How many of our bases and outposts are under attack?” Disciple-7 asked.

A brief pause as the officers and tacticians looked down at the holomap. “Almost all of the American territories,” one said in disbelief. “They’re going to try and drive us out completely.”

And with how much they’d been outplayed already, in addition to suffering substantial losses, they might very well succeed.

No. Ravarian shook his head.

ADVENT had made their play. Whatever plan the Battlemaster had, he had better plan to put it into motion _now_. The loss of America would delay the war months at least, and give the Humans a persistent morale boost. They couldn’t keep suffering defeats just because they didn’t want to _cheat_.

But if so…that raised a rather disturbing question. If the Humans could beat them _now_ in a fair fight, how much more dangerous would they be the longer they were allowed to advance?

This entire operation needed to be reevaluated. But once it was over, one way or another.

***

_Redding, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 9:12 A.M._

“Deploy!” Roman yelled, both to his squad and the other ADVENT teams as the trains came to a stop, gauss fire already pounding from the train turrets. Konstantin threw open the doors and the soldiers poured out of the train cars. Roman activated his PDS field, and knew that for a short time they would be protected.

The rising sun illuminated defenses that Roman found almost laughable compared to what was coming to hit them. At least the way it was now, the train had stopped in front of a clear alien base in the city. It had been some distribution center at one point, but was now fielding plasma turrets, and a substantial Muton garrison that was already rushing to defend it.

Some of the Mutons carried grenade launchers which were already raised at the charging soldiers, gauss fire already rushing towards the aliens. Had the ADVENT force not also been accompanied by every branch of the ADVENT Special Forces, the Priest Division, and XCOM, it might have held out for some time.

The Mutons began firing as they fell into cover, and seemed to stutter as plasma bent away from Roman and his team, as well as every other Shieldbearer deployed. The Muton Grenadiers fired their payloads, but that was almost as ineffective as one of the Priests raised a hand, stopping the grenades in the air, and several were even blasted out of the sky. Probably one of the Hussars, since they were composed exclusively of snipers and scouts.

The Dragoons were almost as impressive as the Lancers had looked initially. They were close to what Roman would describe as walking tanks. One planted itself firmly into the ground, raised their hands and oriented themselves toward an alien barricade, and a stream of micromissiles shot out and eradicated both the structure and aliens themselves in a bright orange explosion.

The train turrets were firing at the main base behind the alien lines, collapsing the doors and sealing any possible reinforcements within. The Lancer Executors finally reached the alien line, and were as lethal as Roman had expected. More so, in fact.

As strong as the Mutons were, they were poor melee combatants. With roars they swung with fists and rifles, but their efforts proved futile as the Lancers bashed their skulls in or crushed their bones. More Mutons fell from Hussar fire who had deployed in makeshift sniper nests on the trains, and within them as well.

“Shield running low,” Roman updated those around him. “Shutting down in half a minute.”

“Acknowledged,” the Officer beside him confirmed, as did his team and the Lancer squad also beside him. Although Roman honestly didn’t know how worried they needed to be. The Muton line was shattered as the Executors were going through and slaughtering the Mutons with seeming ease. More were charging forward from the base, but they ran straight into a hail of gauss fire.

However, these Mutons were slightly different. They had helmets. Not a _massive_ difference, but a noticeable one. Several purple lances suddenly sprouted from the arms of advancing Priests, which were able to damage the armor substantially, leaving smoking and charred metal, even if the Mutons _were_ still alive.

The PDS fields from all the Shieldbearers were down now, so there was no intrinsic protection from the plasma anymore. The outer perimeter was breached, however, and ADVENT was claiming the outer defenses for their own and preparing to encircle the alien force still inside. The aliens were doing likewise, enacting downed barricades and rolling out what appeared to be portable turrets, both automated and manual.

Interesting.

“[Suppressing fire on center-left group,]” Galina informed as she began suppressing a group of four Mutons behind the dark alloy barricade. [Heads up! Grenadiers incoming!]”

Now it was apparent that there was someone smarter coordinating the Mutons, as Roman noticed that the Grenadiers had moved back, and the standard soldiers were taking the brunt of the ADVENT assault. There was enough volume of plasma fire to stop the advance completely, and even the Executors weren’t braving the sudden outpouring of plasma bolts crossing the battlefield.

A few moments later after Galina’s warning, dozens of plasma grenades were shot towards the ADVENT lines, to varying degrees of success. A few were shot, and some were caught by Priests or deflected by sudden psionic shields. Some landed on ADVENT positions, however, extracting the first major casualties from the attacking force.

 _“Wing Captain Leewood to Redding forces,”_ the leader of the ADVENT air forces in this attack suddenly said. _“The main AA defenses for the city appear to have been taken out. Commencing aerial drops.”_

“[Not a moment too soon,]” Elena commented. Roman concurred, this was where the main wave of reinforcements was going to come from, before the main army itself of course. The airdrops would bring soldiers, supplies, and even some tanks. Speaking of vehicles, the MDUs should be coming up soon…

Right on cue the lumbering white robots strode up behind the lines, and began laying down their lethal firepower against the Muton defenders. The high-powered lasers didn’t kill them in one hit, but it _did_ keep them in cover. Several Dragoons protected by Priests stepped out and unleashed their payloads on the Muton lines, blowing holes in the barricades and Mutons themselves.

Roman observed that the majority of Muton soldiers began focusing their fire on the MDUs, and managed to take a few down from the sudden green barrages, but this just left openings for the rest of the soldiers to focus fire on the defenders. Roman fired several shots and the barrage of fire hit, but didn’t kill it, though the second shattered the weak alloy helm and blew the head of the Muton apart.

The Priests in the area were now also taking the upper hand. While few, once entrenched Roman could see just how powerful they could be. A storm of psionic energy destroyed one squad of Mutons, cutting through their armor with almost no effort. Random Mutons suddenly began attacking each other, although they were quickly subdued.

Other Mutons were lifted into the air and exposed to the full firepower of ADVENT, while others deployed defensive shields, allowing the Engineers to construct makeshift cover from corpses, and deploy the portable cover they always carried with them. _“This is Buckeye One coming in to reinforce,”_ a female voice came over the radio. _“Stand by. ADVENT Reinforcements dropping close to your position.”_

“[Looks like they’re here!]” Anton whooped, glancing up. Roman briefly followed suit and saw the planes overhead and parachutes opening up as tanks and soldiers were dropping. An XCOM Skyranger shrieked overhead flying at a ludicrously low height and one figure jumped out, shimmering with a purple shield over the body, and fell towards the Muton lines.

Roman blinked as he saw…him? Her? It wasn’t easy to determine gender from armor, but whoever it was, they were attacking the Mutons with a damn _axe_. A Templar, one of the XCOM psions that fought in melee then. He hadn’t seen one properly in action before, and it was rather amazing to behold. The soldier must have been enhanced beyond psionics, as they were striking with enough force to puncture the helmets and killing the Mutons in one or two hits.

As the soldier was covered in the purple shield, nothing seemed to be able to damage them, and the soldier seemed to laugh off plasma as they struck, kicked, and dashed from alien to alien, fighting with a zeal that was even forcing the Mutons to back off, despite outmassing the Human by a significant margin.

The alien lines were faltering, and the XCOM squad that had arrived was now entering the fray. One of their gunners began striding right into the alien lines, yelling for them to advance as another Templar joined the first one in taking the fight to the Muton lines. That was the cue for the Executors to charge the front lines, and they joined in the carnage, eradicating the Muton lines and clearing the way for them to advance.

“[Move forward!]” Roman commanded, seeing a fairly safe opportunity to move forward. The Mutons were in full retreat, and they were being picked off as they ran by the Snipers, Hussars, and MDUs, not to mention the Executors and Templars running them down with a furious rigor. The first alien stronghold was taken.

The battle for Redding was fully underway.

***

_Near Los Angeles, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 9:02 A.M._

The dimly lit train rattled as it sped towards LA, although Patricia wasn’t focusing on that, nor the soldiers around her. Eyes closed, she tried getting a sense of what was going to be facing them within the next few minutes. LA was expected to be heavily fortified, but she had taken Vegas without extensive strenuous effort, and she could do the same here.

Creed would lead the actual assault in her stead while she exerted her telepathic dominance over the aliens, and the squad she had would likely perform expertly. It was going to be the first conflict for some, such as Sussan, but the new psion would likely perform well once the battle began. Just in case, she had been sure to project a calm aura over the entirety of the train itself.

“Quite a curious plan,” a familiar voice mused as a shadowy figure stepped up beside her. “Yet I am not sure you consider the… _consequences_ of such an action. Your strike, while bold, is one of escalation; a grasping chance of exploiting your apparent advantage before it is lost. One I cannot fault your species for, but you should know the reality of the situation better than most.”

She turned her head to see herself standing directly beside her, a perfect replica except her double wasn’t wearing the helmet she had on now, and the eyes were pools of black. She briefly glanced around at the others in the train car, and none of them seemed to notice the figure. How shocking. The doppelgänger smiled slightly at that.

 _What are you doing here now?_ She thought, knowing the Imperator would be able to hear her. _Don’t you have better things to do?_

“Considering all of this is the result of my decisions, I have a vested interest in keeping my eye on it,” he answered, the deep voice sounding _wrong_ coming out of her mouth. “And the _scale_ of this is one that I am personally interested in. You don’t know what you will unleash with this.”

 _Get to the point, or get out of my head._ She thought with as much disdain as she could muster, narrowing her eyes at the figure. _I really do not have time for more of your mind games._

“This is what will happen,” the Imperator said, her double clasping its hands behind its back. “Los Angeles is a stronghold of thousands of Mutons, a network of twenty-five Gateways, and five thousand more mechanical units including Sectopods, Cyberdisks, and Seekers. Enemies which you are poorly equipped to handle.”

 _Which is why I’ll focus on the thousands of Mutons._ She responded. _Like how I’ve always done it._

“Your attack will initially succeed,” the Imperator continued. “You will gain ground. The Mutons will fall. You will dominate them. Yet I am amused you have not thought about how this is going exactly as you planned. _Why_ are you allowed to attack with no initial response?”

Patricia smiled under her helmet. _Because maybe we outsmarted you?_

Now the Imperator was amused. “No. The only reason your initial attacks are succeeding is because the Battlemaster is _waiting_. He _wants_ you to make the first strike. He wants to see the composition of your forces, because then he can counter them. The Battlemaster is many things, but he is not someone who can be easily tricked.”

_I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what he is planning then?_

“The Battlemaster is one of the few I cannot read, but I can certainly speculate,” the Imperator nodded, the unnatural smile deeply contrasting the black pools of eyes. “Fectorian has been developing infantry units. These are far more powerful than the ones you have been fighting. You have little experience with controlling a mind enhanced by cybernetics. You will try, but you will exhaust yourself long before the battle is over, not because of your lack of power, but the incorrect application of it.”

_Get to the point._

“Of course,” he raised a gauntleted finger, pointing it at her. “You are powerful, Patricia, but almost all you have learned has been through trial and error. _Experimentation_. You have had no _training_. You have had no _teacher_. At this point you have as much mastery as the ancient Ethereals of old who had begun to fully harness the Gift. Aegis has certainly done what he could, but he is no telepath, as I have said before.”

_Again, get to the point._

“I can help you,” he said. “The cybernetic mind is one that can be dominated as easy as an organic one…but it is different. The techniques and outcomes are changed. All you need to do is allow me to transfer the technique directly into your mind. I will do that, and nothing else.”

Patricia had to smirk at the absurdity of that statement. _Do you really think I’m that gullible? I’m not stupid enough to think letting you into my mind would just be for information._

“And what motivation would I have for lying to you?” He asked knowingly. “I could break your mind at any point, Patricia, but I am choosing not to. If I intended to do such to you from the start, we would not be speaking now. There would not be _choice_. But you have one, Patricia, your choices are true and they _matter_. Your _choices_ will decide the outcome of this war and the future of your species.”

He smiled at her. “I am simply offering you one more, with no catch, aside from the consequence that your mastery over the Gift will grow. I will be watching, and if you choose to accept my offer, I will be waiting.” With that, he instantly vanished from sight.

She would have found his dramatic exits amusing if the conversations weren’t so disconcerting.

She jolted as a hand rested on her shoulder. “Hey, you alright?” Creed asked, cocking his head. “We’re almost there. Can you sense anything?”

“Fine,” she said curtly. “I’m…ready. There are a lot of Mutons. Sectopods, Cyberdisks, and Seekers as well. More Gateways than expected I think too, Muton minds aren’t the clearest.”

“Alright, good,” he nodded, and all of them gripped their weapons as the train began slowing down. “Prepare to deploy!” He ordered, with all of them and the ADVENT soldiers lining up at the doors. The Archangel Host was supposed to deploy immediately after initial engagement, so Patricia knew that would give some extra flexibility in dealing with the immediate entrenched defenses.

And now she could sense the hordes of aliens directly ahead, Mutons of all kinds. The question then was what she was going to force them to do. There were many options, but she felt like it would be best to…take advantage of the information the Imperator had given her.

Sound seemed to slowly fade as the doors opened and the XCOM and ADVENT soldiers charged outside and towards the fortified city. She stepped out half-aware of her surroundings, the map of minds in the city dominating her own sight. With one hand extended towards the mass of concrete, stone, and metal, psionic power flowing around her, she began to dominate the minds of those within.

With each mind she infected like a virus, she gave a specific order: _Destroy the Gateways._

She wouldn’t have to worry about cybernetic units if there wasn’t any way for them to come.

What she didn’t see, was the immaterial form of the Imperator standing behind her, observing with the faintest of smiles on the face of the doppelgänger he imitated.

***

_Sacramento, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 9:27 A.M._

Oliver had gotten used to psions over his time spent in XCOM. Once you got past the whole ‘doing things with their mind’ part, they were regular nice people. Iosif beside him was one such psion he got along with easily enough, and of course respectful to his fellow soldiers. The new psion Moriai Jin was also a pleasant soldier. While supposedly weaker than most psions, he was dedicated to being as helpful as possible.

Geist on the other hand, was unnerving.

Every single action or word spoken by the man seemed to be calculated and deliberate, with a delivery that would make a machine seem to have more emotion. And when Geist decided to actually put some emotion into his voice, it sounded nothing short of malevolent and sinister. He had yet to put on his helmet, despite everyone else doing so, and seemed utterly unmoved by the oncoming sounds of battle ahead.

Granted, all of them were soldiers and used to battle at this point. But from what Oliver knew, Geist was not even a soldier, but someone they had recruited from the PRIEST Program. He’d also gotten the feeling that during the brief time they’d spoken, Geist had been poking around in his head.

While he didn’t necessarily have anything to hide, the number of people he would be comfortable with in his mind did _not_ include Geist among them.

However, the Commander apparently had enough confidence in him to make him Overseer…so he supposed they would have to wait and see how it went. The skyranger lights turned red, indicating that they were coming in for a landing. Unlike some of the other squads, they were not going in on the trains, but to reinforce by Skyranger.

“Do not move forward until I give the order,” Geist stated in a tone that did not allow compromise. “We will appraise the situation on the ground, then deploy as needed. Understood?”

_“Yes, Overseer!”_

The Skyranger ramp descended, and they were greeted with the sight of a mix of ADVENT soldiers, Lancers, and Cuirassiers engaged in a perimeter shootout with a large contingent of alien defenders who were within the city itself. The aliens had actually demolished much of the outer buildings by the tracks, and there was a small no-man’s land between the converted defensive towers, and the ADVENT forces.

The Engineers had set up some small defenses, but most were using the train itself as a defensive structure. The train defenses were firing at the aliens, and there was visible damage, but it was an essential stalemate until ADVENT decided to commit. Focusing on the alien defenses, Oliver saw that the ground forces were a mix of Muton soldiers and Elites. Not good.

It appeared the aliens within the structures themselves were Vitakarians, snipers and soldiers occupying all four floors of the building and raining green plasma down on the ADVENT train. “Telepath Jin,” Geist said slowly, raising a hand. “Establish telepathic enhancement to as many sniper and long-range personnel as you can. Templar Bronis, gather the Lancer Executors in the vicinity and prepare to move forward. You may take Engineer Kun to assist.”

“I can do that,” Iosif said slowly, shifting the mace in his hand. “However, I don’t necessarily _command_ them-“

“You will take command temporarily,” Geist stated flatly, not looking to him. “If they refuse, inform me and I will take care of it. Understood?”

Oliver winced. This did not seem a good tactic, and one ADVENT would _not_ approve of. Iosif just started walking to the respective Lancers with a brief nod and Nuan followed him. Jin was already finding a safe space to begin his own telepathic support. “Scout Man, Assault Darego, move towards the designated Goliath drop point and prepare to provide covering fire.”

“Yes, Overseer,” Khulan Man nodded as she and her Nigerian counterpart dashed off to where the drop point was.

“The rest of you follow me and fire at will,” Geist said, and they began walking; walking way too _slowly_ for Oliver’s liking, towards the ADVENT line. It was maddening, he _wanted_ to run to some kind of cover, but he really _couldn’t_. He didn’t know if it was Geist or some innate knowledge that sticking to the psion’s side was best, but he felt unnecessarily exposed.

“What’s the plan, Overseer?” David Cannon asked, his rifle raised. “I assume you have one?”

“The enemy has the defensive advantage, and we will suffer unacceptable casualties if we attempt to cross,” Geist stated. “Their primary support is within the two defensive towers, with secondary support on the ground. With the towers negated, and cover established, ADVENT can make a methodical charge forward.”

“Right,” David said, noticeably unimpressed. “And the plan?”

“Join the initial fight,” Geist said, pressing a button on his wrist. “This will be unnecessarily difficult without coordination.” His arm suddenly was engulfed in purple energy, and he motioned towards the open space and purple shapes suddenly materialized out of nothing. “The cover will protect you,” Geist assured him. “Aegis has been helpful in refining my applications of psionics.”

Oliver looked at David and shrugged. No reason not to do it, and no matter what he thought about Geist personally, he did appear to be a competent psion. With that in mind, they charged towards the shimmering shield arranged into cover. Now green plasma was raining down upon them, and both of them managed to avoid the worst of it and on instinct Oliver slid into cover.

Interestingly enough, despite being translucent, the cover held and some quick testing did seem to indicate it was steady. Well, as plasma bolts started hitting it and vanishing, that was proven rather quickly. Oliver wasted no time in firing back with his gauss rifle, aiming towards the Mutons on the ground since they were easier to target.

 _“This is XCOM Psion Geist to ADVENT forces in the immediate vicinity,”_ Geist said over the radio. _“All PRIEST Division forces in the area please converge upon my location. Remaining forces prepare to advance. XCOM Goliath support is incoming shortly.”_

“Think they’ll come?” David asked as he fired.

Oliver managed to hit one of the Mutons, although not kill it. As nice as the enhanced eyes were, it still wasn’t possible to turn assault rifles into sniper rifles. “If someone sounds like that and orders you to come? I think you get over there.”

“Yeah,” David grunted. “I don’t want to make him angry.”

They continued the fight for minutes more, and now there were ADVENT soldiers who were also taking advantage of the psionic cover and taking much better shots at the aliens. The ground suddenly shook, and a look back confirmed that the Goliath had indeed landed. The lumbering behemoth raised the massive gauss weapon and immediately started firing at the defensive towers.

The bare battlefield suddenly was lit up with more psionic shields acting as cover, painting the whole area with purple streaks. _“ADVENT Forces advance at will, stand by for tower negation.”_ A few moments later, the towers were suddenly encased in purple. It didn’t seem to be _doing_ anything, but all fire was immediately stopped.

Huh. He had to admit that was a pretty good tactic. “Forward!” Iosif yelled, and with the sudden ceasing of the majority of plasma fire, he and the dozen or so Executors dashed through the maze of psionic cover towards the now-weakened Muton line. ADVENT soldiers were also charging forward and taking places behind the cover.

Oliver and David followed suit, getting closer and closer to the defensive stronghold itself as Iosif and the Executors hit and began destroying the ground line of aliens. Armor didn’t protect them as Iosif bashed their joints, heads, and weapons with his mace and more often than not seemed to kill on contact with a vital body part.

The towers were still imprisoned, and Oliver watched with some amusement as the aliens inside were trying to break the shield by shooting or hitting it. Out of curiosity, he looked behind to see Geist with a dozen Priests beside him calmly marching forward. So encased by psionic energy was Geist that Oliver found it somewhat difficult to make out his form.

The Priests beside him were also enshrined by psionic energy, though now they were gathering it in preparation for something. The answer to that came shortly, as the shield to the first tower fell, and it was immediately hit by the Goliath’s weapons, and purple maelstroms of psionic energy. Rockets from ADVENT Rocketeers also slammed into the tower, telekinetically enhanced by the Priests, and within a few short minutes the first tower crumbled to the ground with a crash.

The second shield fell soon after, and it met the same fate once the Goliath fired a half-dozen missiles at the structure, and the Dragoons and Priests unleashed their tools and powers on it. The moment the second tower fell, all of the psionic cover disappeared and as ADVENT rushed to claim the previous alien territory, Iosif and the Executors cleaning up the last of the aliens, Geist looked further into the city.

His golden-rimmed eyes flicked minutely every second as everything was taken in, calculated, and planned. The neutral expression on his face didn’t change, but briefly Oliver thought he saw some satisfaction flicker over it. “We move forward,” Geist said as he strode up. “This was a first engagement. Now the real battle begins.”

Despite that, after the display Geist had put on, Oliver wondered just what the aliens would have to stop them.

Hopefully nothing. It would be good to see them run for once.

***

_Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit_

_11/21/2016 – 10:17 A.M._

ADVENT had finally shown their hand, and it was one with more ferocity than the Battlemaster had expected. He had, at most, anticipated ADVENT attempting to completely secure Nevada and perhaps the outer cities of California. But instead, they were going to attempt to push the Collective completely out of the country itself.

Now that the Zar’Chon had confirmed that ADVENT was mobilizing their full army, if there wasn’t a suitable response, they would succeed. Now that ADVENT was fielding psions, he now had to contend with the possibility that they _wouldn’t_ succeed, or at minimum suffer heavy losses. ADVENT had escalated this conflict, however, so he would need to respond in kind.

There were three holograms before him, Fectorian’s Replicas he’d begun seeding throughout the Collective military. While the machine intelligence was not perfect, they could be isolated and their purpose was to report and observe without the risk of falling to telepathy, exhaustion, disease, or poison.

Now that the chocolate problem had become more…extensive, poison was an actual concern, if largely unwitting.

He felt frustration at that thought.

No time to focus on it though. Pushing that away, he addressed the holograms, all reporting from different cities. “Have the assaulting forces been categorized completely?”

 _“Confirmed, Battlemaster,”_ the Sacramento Replica said, having the appearance of a Vitakarian female missing one eye. _“Corroborating data with other units indicates a similarity in unit composition. These initial attacks are composed of ADVENT Special Forces, and a varying amount of XCOM support. We are currently facing a Goliath-class MEC, and an unknown number of psions.”_

 _“Due to unit irregularity and comparison with previous battles, it is likely that XCOM Psion Patricia Trask is attacking this location,”_ the Los Angeles Replica reported, appearing as a Vitakarian male. _“We are losing substantial ground.”_

“Reinforcements will be arriving shortly,” the Battlemaster assured them, glancing down at the data stream to confirm their uploads. This was all he needed. “Continue observation and engage as needed.”

He shut off the holograms and the image reverted to the haptic map of the United States. So ADVENT wanted a fight. They had committed their forces to driving them out, but they had made the mistake of assuming that his resources were finite. While in actuality they were, the numbers were so far beyond what ADVENT could contend with they were virtually limitless.

However, he was never one to throw away resources unnecessarily. Even Mutons didn’t need to be wasted.

But there was a problem here: The Collective had a distinct lack of advanced units to counter the elite units of ADVENT and XCOM. Fectorian’s soldiers solved this to an extent, and the Elites played a substantial role, but one-on-one, a Lancer or XCOM soldier, much less a Priest, was a match for any soldier in the Collective, and usually exceeded them.

He would have to take a hard look at the military composition and make adjustments once this battle was over.

He pressed a button on his wrist, signaling for the relevant beings to meet him. It was time to fully launch their attacks and counterattacks. He brought up a haptic display and sent the signal for the designated fleets to begin arriving in the Solar System. He was going to need a lot for what was coming next.

The door slid open soundlessly and those he had summoned began walking in. The Zar’Chon of course, along with Disciple-7, and finally two of the Creator’s Chosen, the so-called Hunter, or “Dave” as he liked calling himself. He had another name, but the Battlemaster saw little point in using it. He had a tendency to be disrespectful, but as long as he did the job, the Battlemaster could tolerate it.

Considering he came from the Creator, it was understandable that the alien had developed means of coping.

Then there was Senorium, the unflinchingly loyal zealot and complete tool. Little independent thought, but he had his uses. Then came the two Guardians, who the others had clearly never seen before. The Warlock bowed deeply, and even the Hunter stood at attention. The Zar’Chon did likewise, and Disciple-7 didn’t react whatsoever.

“ADVENT has revealed their plan,” the Battlemaster began. “It is unlikely they have the resources to launch additional attacks. At this moment our major bases are under attack, and they are facing trained psions and genetically enhanced special forces units. In addition, they have revealed that they are capable of eliminating fleets entering the atmosphere using nuclear weapons.”

He swept his gaze over them. “ADVENT is willing to escalate this conflict. We will oblige them.”

“What is the plan then?” The Hunter asked, a sly smile on his face. “Bomb them from orbit?”

“No,” the Battlemaster said flatly, slightly offended that was even a suggestion. “We will launch attacks of our own. I have identified appropriate forces to respond to the current attacks, and depending on how those hold, we will take additional measures.” Parts of the map illuminated red. “I have authorized a full invasion fleet against Alaska, the Yukon territory, and British Columbia. This is in immediate effect.”

“They will not expect that,” the Zar’Chon nodded approvingly. “Their forces are out of position.”

“In addition, I have also authorized an invasion force to target Mexico,” the Battlemaster continued. “Specifically, the city of Guadalajara and the surrounding area.” The Battlemaster looked at the two Chosen. “Your…sibling…will lead this attack.”

He pressed a button on the console and the map shifted to one of Asia. “Finally, the attack on Korea will commence as planned. Hunter, you will participate in the attack.”

The Zar’Chon seemed slightly taken aback at the plan, but nodded nonetheless. “And what of us, Battlemaster?” The Second Guardian asked.

“You will stay until the situation develops further,” the Battlemaster said to her. “However, you may coordinate the attack on Alaska and Canada. You may be needed in California, First Guardian, but it is too early to make the assessment yet.”

“And what of me, Battlemaster?” The Warlock asked.

“You will accompany me,” the Battlemaster stated. “I intend to show ADVENT the consequences of escalating this conflict.”

***

_Redding, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 11:24 A.M._

The fight had been taken from their initial command bases to the streets of Redding itself. They had taken a short amount of time to regroup and refuel after taking the base, and Roman had gotten word that the other attacks had gone similarly well and that ADVENT was sending the Legion proper to help mop up, assuming they didn’t purge the aliens before that point.

Priests, XCOM, and Lancers; there seemed very little that could stop them when working together.

Even more so as they marched down the streets themselves.

The aliens had been working on constructing more turrets and barricades on street corners and in intermediate places between intersections, but they were clearly not prepared for an all-out assault. Roman actually believed that they had expended the majority of their Muton force, since now they were fighting Vitakara Runianarch soldiers.

Red lasers and green plasma was exchanged down the streets, but the Runianarch were clearly going to fall soon. In addition to all of his squad, his march forward was accompanied by a full Dragoon team of four, two MDUs, and three XCOM soldiers. The one Templar had turned out to be a woman, Ellinor Aagard, who was joined by two more soldiers, Rosario De Leon and Fakhr al Din, the latter also carried enough explosives to be a Dragoon.

The Priests were assisting elsewhere, but frankly, they weren’t needed.

Two Runianarch fell to his rifle shots, largely thanks to Galina pinning them in place. More were running up, or slithering in the case of the armored Cobrarian soldiers. Those were definitely the most unsettling, as the idea of fighting man-sized snakes was something he’d only really heard about. The Borelians were the hardest to kill by far, still fighting after sustaining what he would consider lethal wounds.

“Firing rocket!” Fakhr yelled, launching a missile towards a barricade several aliens were hiding behind. Several were killed in the blast, and the soldiers quickly picked off the ones who ran away. Maksim seemed pleased he sniped a fleeing Vitakarian and Cobrarian in their backs.

“[They don’t take hints, these aliens,]” Maksim commented as another shot brought a Borelian to one knee. “[Brave aliens, but I don’t think we’ve taken many losses yet.]”

“[No,]” Roman agreed as he fired some more shots at the aliens. “[I don’t think we have.]”

Ellinor had largely been standing in the middle of the street, maintaining a psionic shield in front of her, while she protected everyone else as they advanced. The Dane Axe, glistening with alien blood was hooked to her side, since she apparently needed two hands to maintain the various psionic shields. Now that they were close to the major intersection, which the aliens had turned into a mix between a checkpoint and tower, she dropped the supplementary shields and grasped the axe in her hand.

“Hit the tower!” She yelled to the Dragoons. “Everything you have! Fakhr, you too!”

“Locking on for barrage,” one of the Dragoons stated, planting himself in the ground, the other one joining him. Roman saw launchers extend from their shoulders, angling towards the intersection. “Firing.” A dozen micro missiles shot into the sky and descended on the frontal position of the aliens in seconds.

With nowhere to really run, most aliens in the area were ripped apart by the blast, and Ellinor charged into the fray. Roman and the rest of the soldiers took this opportunity to charge as well. Laser blasts from the MDUs took out soldiers hiding out at the top of the platform overlooking the intersection, as well as those hiding out in the buildings.

Fire licking at the metal and aliens still alive, they were already backing up, although the confined space did very little against Ellinor who took all of them on in a fifteen-to-one charge. Or at least it would be that way until ADVENT caught up with them and had clear shots through the smoke and metal.

But Roman could see some of the action. Nothing seemed to be able to touch her as she not only slammed the axe down on the various aliens, particularly focusing on the Borelians who had parts of their face exposed, but also disoriented them by lashing out with her hand and throwing them back with the force, or lashing out with an armored foot towards the joints.

By the time Roman and his team had clear lines of sight, the aliens were either on the ground and killed with straight execution shots, or they were dead. One shot killed a Cobrarian soldier, and Roman looked up to see Ellinor bury the axe in the faceplate of a Borelian soldier, kicking the now-dead soldier away. “Think that’s all of them here.”

“Nice work,” he complimented, taking the opportunity to reload. “Don’t know if we needed to even help.”

“Unlikely,” she surprisingly agreed, twirling her axe, flinging yellow droplets of blood around. “But it is appreciated.”

“We’ve got Andromedons incoming!” Rosario yelled from outside. “A _lot_ of them from two sides!”

“They probably have an Andromedon leader,” Ellinor said contemplatively to herself. “Saving their own for last. We hold out here, we can probably take the town.”

“Unless they have Gateways,” Elena pointed out. “Do we have enough to withstand a flanking attack?”

“That depends on how many they’re attacking us with,” she said slowly. “However…we might be able to even the odds a bit.” She pressed a finger to her helmet. “Captain de Leeuw, requesting an airstrike at the following location. Andromedon forces are converging.”

 _“Request received, A-10 squad being sent to your location, hold out for a little while,”_ the answer came instantly. _“De Leeuw out.”_

“Fakhr, set up main defenses on the right flank!” Ellinor called out, as she motioned to Roman. “You and your team will help me hold them back until the A-10s raze them.” Roman nodded, and they dashed out from the platform to the left side of the intersection.

“Well, that’s not good,” Galina commented as she saw the Andromedon force approaching. There were a minimum of a dozen Andromedons marching forward…and it appeared they had received some kind of upgrade. They marched directly down the street, unafraid of any oncoming fire, which Roman assumed was because of the red shield that was being projected from small mechanical extensions on their arms, which didn’t seem to interfere with holding and firing their weapons on the now-defending ADVENT forces.

Behind the front line of Andromedon soldiers were some Battlefield Engineers, and there was another hulking unit that Roman hadn’t seen before; this one didn’t seem to carry any weapons, and bore massive tanks on their backs, with what looked like chemical dispensers on the arms.

“Contamination Operatives,” Ellinor said grimly, hooking her axe on her waist. “We can’t let them get near.”

“Thank you for that very helpful advice,” Maksim said deadpan. “I can see why XCOM are considered the experts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ellinor snorted as the plasma fire began hitting their position. “However, I can keep them in place for a time.” Arms glowing with psionic energy, she thrust out one hand and a massive psionic shield stretching from one side of the street to the other appeared, taller than the Andromedons themselves.

The aliens stopped and began shooting the shield experimentally, although they quickly found out that it was pointless. Instead they began backing up, presumably to find a way around, before Ellinor chuckled. “Oh no, you’re not running away.” It was difficult to see, but Roman thought he saw another shield go up in the background, effectively trapping the Andromedons in a neat purple box.

“Here it comes!” Anton yelled as the sound of aircraft overhead was head. Ellinor let the shield fall and the Andromedons barely had time to make a decision before the sound of the A-10 guns ripped through the air and shredded the area the Andromedons inhabited. Their suits were punctured, scrapped, and in some cases a plasma weapon exploded.

The sheer volume of fire and damage even rendered the suits unable to come back to life, and all that was left were a pile of Andromedon corpses and suit wrecks. “That was fun,” Ellinor commented, turning around. “Let’s go help out the others.”

Roman turned to follow, thinking that even with the Collective trying to make advancements of their own, it didn’t seem to help them much when psions were involved. And really big guns. The battle for Redding wasn’t over, but he didn’t see a way that they could be stopped.

Their victory was only a matter of time.

***

_Sydney Outskirts – Australia_

_11/21/2016 – 8:22 A.M._

The city proper was in sight, and the aliens were struggling to actually combat the Chronicler’s army. There had been a few losses, but the numbers were continuously replaced by the Chronicler dominating the next group of aliens encountered. They were now engaged with an Andromedon defense force, who had presumably also been the ones responsible for the red shield going over the inner city.

These Andromedons also had rectangle energy shields in front of them, apparently projected from new forearm attachments. They actually were managing to hold up against the particle weapons of the Chronicler’s army, but at the same time, they were overloading them far quicker than Abby presumed was normal.

But in true Andromedon fashion, they were handling this with some degree of intelligence. Soldiers were almost immediately swapped out if the personal energy shield fell, and drones flew in front of the Andromedon, deploying another shield to absorb fire while the Andromedon retreated and another took his place.

At the same time, their plasma weapons were not highly effective against the Chronicler. At best they were absorbed by the armor of the aliens, and otherwise didn’t do anything at all if they were absorbed by psionic shields or missed entirely. Sniper fire was still steadily coming in from the city, also to limited effect.

 _“Enough of this,”_ the Chronicler growled, dropping the psionic protection and extending a claw-like hand towards the Andromedon line. _“Your shields cannot protect you.”_ The area around the Andromedon lines was suddenly distorted, and to Abby it almost looked like the reality itself was being warped and compressed.

The Andromedons were suddenly flattened and crushed under the psionic grip of the Chronicler. Yellow chemicals rose from their shattered helms and the suits sparked as they were broken. Drones became metal pancakes and weapons exploded in green flashes of plasma. How many had the Chronicler killed there? Twenty? Thirty?

How long could he actually keep this up for? They’d been fighting non-stop for at least four hours now, with the Chronicler performing similar feats against the aliens. On some level he had to be enhanced by the suit, but even then he was still one man.

Limits were still apparently unknown to him though, and he continued marching forward deeper towards the now-shielded city. “ _Elites are coming,”_ Harper called, pointing further down the road they were on. Abby focused in that direction, and there were indeed a lot of Elites coming. A small army of them in fact, accompanied by the black-armored figures of the Sectoid Vanguards.

 _“Little threat,”_ the Chronicler said. _“They will join our army.”_

The heavy plasma cannons of the Muton Elites began firing, and the Chronicler’s army responded in kind, blue lances returning the fire and cleaving through several of the Vanguards who then activated their psionic shields and began returning plasma fire which proved as ineffective as before.

 _“There is something else…”_ the Chronicler said slowly. _“Something wrong…”_

A sustained barrage of plasma fire managed to take down one of the Chronicler’s Mutons, but in retaliation several of the Muton Elites were targeted and shredded by repeated blasts from the particle weapons. The psionic shields the Sectoids had seemed to be protecting them, and they were moving to psionic attacks, as Abby saw purple energy forming around their wrists.

What was taking him so long? The Chronicler should have been able to dominate these aliens by now.

Abby leapt onto one of the small flat tops of the buildings; a perk she’d realized her armor had, in that it allowed her to perform physical feats that were impossible except through genetic modification. She raised her own rifle, which configured itself to something she assumed was long-range, and she fired on one of the Vanguards.

It would have been perfect, had the Vanguard not immediately moved the shield to where she had fired, blocking it completely. Odd, but she immediately moved to one of the Muton Elites and fired a sustained particle blast on the face of the alien, and a few seconds later it burned through, causing it to tumble to the ground.

Just as they were gaining the upper hand once more, the Chronicler audibly growled and violently gestured towards the mass of aliens. Corrosive psionic energy convulsed around him, and the alien mass was suddenly engulfed in a massive psionic maelstrom that vaporized the ones at the center, and just as easily overwhelmed even those on the edge.

And just as quickly as he had brought it into existence, the maelstrom vanished, leaving only purple wisps. _“Something is blocking my telepathy,”_ the Chronicler stated. _“Or more accurately, someone is protecting the aliens.”_

 _“You can’t break it?”_ One of Harper’s soldiers asked.

 _“Not on my own,”_ the Chronicler admitted. _“The skill is…unlike anything I have encountered before. Nonetheless, we should be able to continue even with this roadblock.”_

Then in the middle of the street, in the center of where the psionic maelstrom had been, the air shimmered a faint purple and an Ethereal literally stepped out of thin air, much like the Chronicler had done before. A very familiar Ethereal, now that Abby thought about it.

Quisilia raised a hand in greeting. “Hello there!”

Every alien of the Chronicler’s army, and Abby herself, trained their weapons on the lone Ethereal. The Chronicler himself stepped forward. “ _Ethereal. I was beginning to think you would let me continue unopposed.”_

While Abby didn’t know the exact abilities of Quisilia, that he was apparently powerful enough to block the Chronicler’s telepathy was concerning. “I’m afraid not,” Quisilia said mockingly. “I must say you…aren’t quite what I expected. Just who are you? Not ADVENT or XCOM.”

The Chronicler seemed amused. _“And just how would you know that?”_

“Because I’m looking into the mind of your XCOM associate now,” Quisilia said clearly from behind her. Abby jumped and flew around to see the Ethereal standing behind her, the metal helmet looking forebodingly down at her. The Ethereal raised one finger to where his lips would presumably be, and vanished from sight.

Heart pounding, she returned looking to the street, where Quisilia was still inexplicably there and continued. “It appears she doesn’t know what you really are. Not surprising. Puppets usually stay quiet in these situations.”

 _“Like you are any different, Ethereal,”_ the Chronicler responded. _“Or has your arrangement with the Sovereign One changed?”_

Quisilia vanished and suddenly appeared directly before the Chronicler, standing over him by several feet easily. “I somehow doubt you know the intricate details, little puppet, suffice to say you vastly underestimate just how much we _know_.” He vanished and reappeared further down the street in his original position. “Do you really think we are as _ignorant_ as the puppet species normally are?”

 _“I think you’re stalling for time,”_ the Chronicler responded, psionic power gathering around him. _“I would expect nothing less from those who ran from the ones who destroyed their species. Even now you fight using the tactics of a coward. Otherwise you would not be able to stand and fight.”_

Quisilia laughed and something flashed in his hand and he vanished once more and reappeared behind one of the Chroniclers Vitakarian soldiers and stabbed him through the chin with some kind of blade. With another arm he did the same thing and a third dropped some kind of ball that exploded into a black swarm of nanites that crawled up and into a nearby Muton, eating him alive.

Quisilia vanished and reappeared in the same place as before, now accompanied by a perfect copy of himself, then two, then more until the street itself had several dozen. “You are not fighting the Battlemaster, little puppet. Fighting fair is only for the naïve and honorable. Even then, when faced with overwhelming odds, even the Battlemaster would use every trick he could.”

The Quisilia figures pulled out another blade, this one colored obsidian and clearly visible. “So show me what you can do, little puppet; show me the gifts your benefactor has blessed you with.”

The Muton being consumed by the nanites suddenly flared in psionic fire, incinerating it completely presumably to kill all the nanites and keep them from spreading. _“You are walking a dangerous line, Ethereal,”_ the Chronicler warned. _“You don’t want to make me angry.”_

“Oh, I do, little puppet,” Quisilia mocked. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

The Chronicler swept out an arm, sending an arc of crackling energy towards the alien. It passed through the illusions without doing anything, and they all vanished. _“Come and find me, puppet. I will be waiting.”_

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_11/21/2016 – 12:16 P.M._

_“This is Chief Marshal Kong to all ADVENT Forces,”_ the Chief Marshal said into his helmet as Duri led his squad towards the trenches, accompanied by thousands of ADVENT soldiers all rushing to their positions. _“We have confirmation of alien invasion fleets heading to the city, as well as other cities in South Korea. Flak Towers are online and armored vehicles and artillery are moving into position now. Take position and push these vermin off our world.”_

“Encouraging speech,” Cara commented as they ran. “Bold to attack when we’re crushing them in America.”

“No, is smart,” Aleksandra countered as she checked her armor. “ADVENT busy with America. Might not be elsewhere.”

Duri would have found that argument a little more convincing except for one minor detail. “See, if they wanted to exploit that, South Korea is the _last_ place they should have attacked. We’ve been preparing for _weeks_.”

“I don’t think this is in response to that,” Beatriz added as they reached the descending trench entrances. “I think they’ve been preparing for this for a while. They just decided to launch it now.”

“All right, let’s get focused and get ready to fight,” Duri interrupted, cutting everyone off as they descended into the trenches. They’d spent enough time training here that all of them were fairly comfortable with what would likely be a prolonged fight. They had been assigned to the Yongho 1 District of the city, which had several important components such as hospitals to protect.

In theory, ADVENT would want to have the entire country protected from coast to coast, lining the border with Flak Towers to blow any alien attack out of the sky. Realistically, they needed a more concentrated defense and resources were not infinite. So the main trench line had been formed around the district itself, and ADVENT had gone from there.

Fortunately, there were dozens of trench lines that were interconnected throughout the city itself. There was at least one route that ran the entirety of the Busan city itself, with some working as tunnels instead of trenches. In front of the trenches themselves, there was a flat, open space that had once been a forest.

The goal was to give the aliens clear places to land, otherwise they might resort to bombing runs or orbital bombardment, neither of which were ideal. So there had to be some spaces that were ‘designated’ for alien landing. However, the no man’s land was massive and there was no cover whatsoever for at least several miles.

Further compounding the issue for the aliens was that mines had been laid at random in the open space itself. The massive Flak Towers also dotted the trench line, just constructed behind the trenches at intervals of half a kilometer, with the trenches also being a means to access them. True towers, Duri was constantly amazed at how much _firepower_ those things had at every floor.

Behind the trench lines were lines of tanks, artillery, and armored M2 Browning machine guns, as well as other stationary turret defenses. Throughout the trenches themselves were also stations where they were established as well, one of which Cara was going to be using; something she had told him she was looking forward to.

The trenches weren’t covered, unfortunately, but tops had a metal sheet slanted away from them, allowing them enough sight to view and fire from, while providing some kind of protection. The entrances and exits had metal protection as well, as did the trenches going under the Flak Towers. All in all, the aliens were in for a _really_ bad time.

They reached their position, and Cara took the elevated position and grasped the Browning in her hands. “Oh yeah, forgot how good this feels.”

Duri grinned under his helmet, and made sure everyone else was in position. Mana took a position on the other side of Cara’s emplacement, rifle raised to the currently-empty battlefield. Aleksandra took her position beside the Hawaiian, glancing over to Duri. “Say when you want me to create field.”

“If everything works correctly,” Duri said, rechecking his weapon again. “You won’t need to.”

Beatriz took a position by him, and rested her sniper rifle on the edge of the ground and was already peering through the scope. Nobuatsu was rushing to the nearby medical and ammo sections of the trenches, making sure everything was ready. The roles had been decided long ago, most of them were going to be fighting, but Nobuatsu was going to be performing medical duties wherever he was needed, and Miguel would be making sure everyone had ammo.

Speaking of Miguel, he was moving his SHIV to an appropriate position, which was on the edge of the back wall of the trench, overlooking the squad itself and cannon aimed down the open area, waiting for anything to even get within range. “SHIV in position,” Miguel reported, hooking the remote control to his waist and turning to Duri. “All of you let me know when you even _think_ you’re running low.”

“Copy that,” Cara said giving a mock salute. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to deliberately waste ammo.”

“I wouldn’t be concerned about that,” Miguel shrugged. “We’ve got enough ammo to probably fight off an alien army three times the size of whatever’s coming.”

“UFO on approach!” Beatriz suddenly said. “Four of them, Scouts I think.”

“Time for the Towers to do their thing-“ Mana said before he was interrupted by the thunderous sound of the Flak Towers firing every available weapon on the oncoming UFOs. Duri looked into the sky to see the orange-white streaks of AA fire combined with lasers that sped towards the oncoming UFO fighters.

The frontal two UFOs were ripped to pieces by the rounds hitting them and further carved apart by the lasers. The latter two only survived a few more seconds before they were similarly torn apart by the towers. Cara cheered as the UFOs crashed into the nearby ocean or just behind the trenches themselves.

Collateral damage was a concern, but supposedly ADVENT had thought ahead to a degree and stationed the new Priests in various positions around the city, many of them telekines to deflect or catch falling debris. That was really all that was missing on his squad now, a Priest. Although they seemed to work in teams made up of their own, so that probably wouldn’t happen.

Perhaps it was for the best. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was having someone like that on the team.

“I don’t think they try that again,” Aleksandra said wryly.

Well, they knew the Flak Towers worked now. Duri suspected that the aliens had assumed the same, and _almost_ felt sorry for the pilots who had clearly been selected for suicide duty. Then again, they were aliens, so he didn’t feel they really deserved it to begin with.

“Now we wait,” Duri said. “Won’t be long now.”

As it turned out, he was partially right. Roughly twenty minutes later the first blips of the aliens appeared from the other end of the no man’s land, from the remains of the forest that ADVENT had left. “They’re just a little out of immediate engagement range,” Beatriz said. “Looks like a mix of Mutons and Vitakara. No armor units yet.”

Cara whistled. “They are going to get slaughtered.”

Duri had to agree. That was perhaps the worst composition possible to use to attack the trenches. The plan regardless was to let the aliens advance a certain ways, and then open fire and kill a large number at once. They’d figure it out eventually, but the goal was to make the initial engagement as costly as possible.

“Do you think they’ll charge?” Miguel asked. “Or-“

They were all suddenly cut off by a loud burst of static, which seemed to be affecting all of the nearby soldiers. _“Greetings, ADVENT, and it is a pleasure to fight you on the battlefield today,”_ a dry, sarcastic voice said over the radio. _“I am Venadiar, Watcher of the Elders and Hunter of the great bitch herself, come today on behalf of your soon-to-be alien overlords, and am to give you a warning that if you do not surrender, blah, blah, you know how it goes.”_

The ADVENT soldiers looked around in confusion. “I’m sorry,” Cara said to no one. “Who the fuck is that?”

 _“We all know how this goes,”_ the alien continued. _“And unlike my idiotic alien brethren, I won’t waste any of our time anymore. But on the orders of the glorious Elders, I will lead the Collective to victory against you. Except that’s rather trite and boring if I’m being honest, so we’re going to do something a little different today.”_

Duri didn’t know if this was something he should find intimidating or funny. Right now he just felt confused. _“We’re going to play a little game,”_ the speaker, the Hunter, said. _“The rules are simple and straightforward. There are two sides, Humans and aliens, you will fight each other. The one left standing, wins!”_ A pause. _“And in the meantime, I get to kill whoever the fuck I want.”_

Duri exchanged a look with Cara in disbelief. “Was that supposed to be a threat?”

“The Vitakara seem just as confused,” Beatriz reported. “I…don’t think they know what is going on either.”

 _“Get moving, imbecile aliens!”_ The Hunter growled. _“I’m not going to wait just because you’re scared!”_ Duri heard the faint sound of a weapon firing, even though he didn’t know from where.

“Uh…” Beatriz looked up at him slowly. “Three Mutons are dead now.”

 _“Same goes for you, Humans,”_ the Hunter said. _“If I have to kill all of you too, I will. And no, your trenches won’t protect you.”_

The weapon fired again and Duri heard a scream further down the trench as a soldier was thrown back, helmet completely caved in and dead before he hit the floor. “How the fuck did he make that shot?!” Beatriz asked, alarm clear in her voice. “And from _where?”_

“Aliens are charging forward,” Cara reported, voice tight. “Guess our trigger-happy alien friend is spooking them as well. Preparing to fire.”

The long-range artillery fired in the background, and the lower floors of the Flak Towers also began firing from the windows. “Let ‘em have it!” Duri commanded. “Open fire!”

As one the trenches of ADVENT fired, sending lethal gauss rounds and bullets into the defenseless alien horde, and the front line was ripped apart almost instantly. While they were still too far away to make an accurate shot, Duri contributed by firing in the general direction of the alien forces.

The armor the Mutons and Vitakara had was essentially worthless against the hail of ADVENT fire. Intermittent explosions claimed more aliens, as even more were falling in sprays of golden blood and torn metal. No man’s land was also lit up with artillery fire, taking out even more scores of aliens. It wasn’t anything close to a fair fight.

 _“This is more like it,”_ the alien hummed in approval. _“A bit too one-sided though. Let’s even the odds a bit.”_

Duri heard, more than saw the explosion behind the trench lines. “What was that!” he yelled.

“Artillery piece!” Miguel yelled from behind him after around half a minute, one hand to his helmet as he listened to radio chatter. “Don’t know which one or how that was taken out in one shot!”

“Yeah, you run away cowards!” Cara shouted as she sprayed more rounds from her Browning. “They’re running away!”

“I can’t blame them,” Duri said, as he saw what remaining alien forces there were turning around and fleeing back to the alien-controlled territory. “I’d run too instead of a suicide charge.”

 _“Oh, dear,”_ the Hunter chortled. _“The aliens are running. Well, I don’t always pick my targets.”_

“Yep, he’s actually shooting at them,” Beatriz confirmed. “They’re apparently arguing about what to do. Looks like they’re going to try and build some kind of trench of their own.” She snorted. “Which is going to be difficult since they don’t have any tools. And assuming that we don’t kill them first. Or our Hunter friend decides to take out a few more ADVENT targets.”

Either way, the trench lines had held against their first major charge. How well they would continue to hold up would depend on what the aliens did next, and if this Hunter was going to continue shooting at both sides.

Duri grimaced. Someone who could apparently make a shot anywhere was not a risk he enjoyed having hanging over his head.

Based on how the alien talked, he suspected the alien enjoyed having that effect on people.

***

_The Island of Hawai’i - Hawaii_

_Operation: Kamehameha – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 12:44 P.M._

The attack on Hawai’i was proceeding well, at least from what Sierra could tell. ADVENT had established Gateways on the island, as well as temporary command centers and supply depots. One of which she was at now, refueling and restocking before she went back out there. The good news was that the island was sparsely populated, and all the defenses were on the coast, where both sides were under attack as ADVENT was attacking from multiple points.

 _“Hey, Sierra, looks like the aliens are sending in their stronger units,”_ Ted reported. _“Elites are being reported. Almost all the gateways in this town are shut down or destroyed. The last few have Sectopods and Elites. They need our help.”_

Sierra activated her engines after doing a quick check to make sure everything was ready. “Copy, on my way now.” She shot up into the air, roaring to rendezvous with the other members of her Host. The aerial view of the city illustrated the situation much better than she could put into words. The Purifiers had continued their work and there were noticeable swaths of the town burning, boxing the aliens in a ring of fire preventing retreat and putting them between ADVENT and toxic flame.

A fitting end for them, Sierra believed.

The Purifier teams had of course come under attack, but with Priest and Lancer support, as well as their own whenever they were called, there wasn’t much that could stop them. Sierra saw where Ted and Anna were flying over now, plasma bolts flying up in their general direction. Anna had expended her replacement rockets some time ago, and was simply using her autorifle.

Ted was still shooting psionic lances, although he was noticeably becoming more tired as the fight progressed. The armor around his arms and hands was blackened, cracked, and in poor condition. XCOM really needed to develop more psionic-resistant armor. Two Runianarch Soldiers crumbled under one lance, and he swooped to the side as Sierra shot in, flamethrower extended as she moved to torch the street.

The orange-white flame spat from her wrist, engulfing the street and torching the Mutons and Vitakara as one. She spotted the Gateway not too far away, the massive red-armored Elites pouring through and beginning to raise their plasma cannons to her. ADVENT was advancing on the streets below, the Lancers picking off whoever was still alive.

Anna swooped down to briefly land on a flat rooftop as she laid down gauss fire on the Elites, causing them to roar in pain as they brought their rifles to bear on her. Sierra reached to her waist and pulled out a thermite grenade, and tossed it towards the trio of aliens. “Ted! Cut the power when I give the word!”

“ _What_?” He demanded as the Elites howled as the thermite ripped through their armor and Sierra dropped from the sky to land in front of them. Anna saw what she was doing and began targeting the other aliens around her.

“ _Be quick about it,”_ Anna warned as she shot a flanking Vitakarian soldier. _“I can’t hold them back forever.”_

“Doable,” Sierra confirmed, raising her wrist and engulfing the weakened Elites in napalm. The exposed plasma of their weapons couldn’t handle the heat and exploded, taking off their arms and much of their torso with it. That out of the way, Sierra took a few tentative steps forward, focusing on the Gateway itself, directing the flame towards the concentrated maelstrom of purple ethereal energy.

“Now!” She called to Ted who swooped down towards the powering cables, while she continued spraying flame into wherever the Gateway was connected to. She thought she heard shouts in the distance and smiled grimly at that. Ted’s arm glowed with crackling psionic energy; a purple lance of energy shooting from his arm and with one swipe he severed the power.

The swirling purple vortex dissipated almost instantly and Sierra ceased her fire, and leapt into the air, jets firing the moment she was airborne. “One more Gateway for us,” she commented in satisfaction. “Good job everyone.”

 _“Think most of the aliens are cleared out here,”_ Anna said, also rejoining her in the air. _“Been listening to ADVENT comms. The other assaults are going well, and Hawai’i itself is almost taken. Nearly all Gateways are down and the stragglers are all that’s left on this island.”_

“What about the inner islands?” Sierra asked, shooting down at one of said stragglers, a Muton who she killed with a few rounds to the head. “That’s where the alien command is.”

 _“Intact for the moment it seems,”_ Anna said, swooping to the side and outflanking a Borelian soldier which she promptly tore apart with her autorifle in a spray of golden blood. _“Don’t know what they’re planning, but the leadership is intact. Right now they’re exchanging fire with ADVENT naval forces. Neither side is doing much right now. Guessing that will be our next target.”_

“Then let’s clean up here,” Sierra ordered. “Ted, how are you holding up?”

 _“I’m alive,”_ he said non-commitally. _“I can’t feel my arms, and I’m exhausted. I need a stimulant, telepathic or otherwise, if you want me to keep this up for another island. Assuming that it’s at this level of difficulty.”_

Sierra thought for a brief moment. “We’ll finish up on this island, then we take a short break. ADVENT will likely want to have a coordinated attack for the inner islands. We’ll take a look at you once this is done. Can you hold out until then?”

 _“I can,”_ Ted confirmed, and as if to prove it, gestured a purple-encased hand towards a Muton and the alien was encased in purple energy which began eating away at him. _“Let’s finish this up.”_

An explosion in the distance several blocks over signaled another Sectopod falling. The bright sun above, Sierra appraised the scattered alien forces below her, determining where best to strike. In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter too much. She picked one out, and angled herself down and gunned him down from above, like a lethal bird of prey.

That wasn’t too inaccurate, in fact. They were indeed hunters.

Alien hunters, but hunters nonetheless.

***

_Sacramento, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 11:46 A.M._

One thing Nuan had never really _grasped_ before actually participating in combat was the sheer _scale_ of war. It had been decades since there had been an actual, proper war with armies fighting over cities. Was World War II the last one? Every one after that seemed to get smaller, and more asymmetrical. Armies were removed in favor of guerilla forces, maneuvering was less important with the rise of airstrikes and drones.

Enemies were harder to defeat if they had no allegiance to a country. Terrorism had changed how war was fought, conducted, and won. But it clearly wasn’t that way anymore. The aliens were a clear, present, and entrenched threat. They wouldn’t be defeated by drone strikes or guerilla squads. Only by legions of men and women marching to fight them.

And it was going to take a very long time.

The mass of ADVENT and XCOM forces marching down a barricaded street was one Nuan figured would be on every propaganda piece ADVENT put out after this. Which she couldn’t fault them for. It was a powerful image, especially seeing Humans of all various nationalities and backgrounds coming together to fight a common foe.

Somewhat romantic, in fact.

She was dreading the war coming to China though, not simply because it was her homeland, but because the war there would be messy at _best_. Beijing or Hong Kong consumed by war would be a nightmare of tactics, logistics, and scale. Not to mention that she didn’t know where the civilians would go.

They couldn’t just relocate hundreds of millions of people. And where would they go? What could support them?

China hadn’t shared with her, and she doubted they would bother to ask her opinion.

The road, or the road the aliens had carved out, as it was clear that they’d removed multiple buildings and houses to accomplish it, was seeded with towers, barricades, and other defenses. They weren’t close to the main base proper, but the defenses had only gotten more and more extensive. They’d just punched through a small base which had two Gateways, both of which they’d been forced to destroy.

Now things were getting more difficult as plasma was fired from the distance. Not to mention Geist had mentioned a little problem.

“Something is blocking me,” he’d said non-commitally, brow furrowing as if it was a minor issue. “Large telepathic attacks are being negated. I suspect there is an Ethereal supporting them. An issue. I will work on subverting this.”

Nuan found the man unsettling, yet at the same time trusted that he knew what he was doing. Maybe he was a good actor, but when he said he was ‘working on subverting this’, she got the feeling he might actually have a plan. She wished she had the ability to be literally unfazed by anything. The sheer confidence and command in his voice had also made him the leader of the current ADVENT forces they were with.

Although, she had to admit, he hadn’t given them much choice.

Geist planted his feet and extended an arm, psionic energy flowing off him as a massive barrier appeared before them, effectively cutting each side off from each other. “Begin the establishment of a defensive line,” he commanded. “Shieldbearers, prepare activation of PDS fields.”

The MDUs in the group also advanced to the front, aware enough not to try and fire at the shimmering shield. The alien fire had stopped as well, and Nuan focused to see exactly what they were facing.

It was not encouraging. Four towers that were abruptly cut off at four stories were arranged in a square, and covered by a layer of black alloy. Within them were automated defenses and openings manned by what appeared to be Vitakarian soldiers. They were connected by walls roughly one story high, manned by….

She frowned. These were new. They appeared to be Mutons on first glance, but they were…altered. They were black-armored, almost mechanical in nature. They wore helmets and the eyes were a bright orange. “Iosif,” she said slowly to the Templar as ADVENT continued setting up their line. “Do those Mutons look different?”

Iosif cocked his head and took a step forward. “I would say they were the Centurions. I know there were some in Japan, but they haven’t shown up for a while. But they were different. Larger and they seemed more…alive.”

Nuan, after watching them a few more seconds, realized the same thing. None of the Mutons had moved so much as an inch. Their weapons were also different. Many plasma weapons the aliens employed had exposed plasma innards for some reason, one Nuan could only imagine was for cost or maybe energy output, but nonetheless was a major flaw in the design.

The weapons these Mutons had kept the main model of the plasma rifles, but it was bigger, encased in the black alloy, and completely covered up the exposed plasma. “New unit?” She wondered out loud.

“Yes,” Geist said unexpectedly, walking up to them, the familiar serious look on his face. “They come from Fectorian, an Ethereal specializing in cybernetic enhancement, and deployed on the direction of the Battlemaster himself. The aliens are intent on keeping these cities, we should prepare for an extended siege.”

Both she and Iosif looked at him in mild surprise. “How the hell do you know _that_?” Nuan asked.

Geist sniffed. “The one protecting the aliens here is either incompetent or simply doesn’t care. While I cannot take control of the aliens, there is shockingly nothing preventing me from reading their minds. These mechanical units have their brains cybernetically altered, which ironically, makes their thought patterns straightforward. I suspect I would not be able to alter their minds even if they were not protected, not at first. But it is not important, at this moment, they are waiting for orders.”

Nuan somehow found the idea of Geist referring to an alien that was managing to somehow protect _all_ aliens from mental control as _incompetent_ highly amusing. But she limited it to a smirk under her helmet.

“I was similarly amused,” Geist nodded, the faintest sliver of amusement running through his eyes. “But they are Ethereals in all likelihood. They are arrogant by nature and uncreative in their pursuits.”

And he was right back to being creepy. “Please don’t read my mind,” Nuan said. “Take a cue from Patricia.”

“Patricia is idealistic and deliberately handicaps herself,” Geist said flatly. “I do not. But this is not the time for that discussion. We need to prepare for our attack.” And with that he marched off to go speak to a trio of Priests.

Nuan decided not to dwell on it and regrouped with the other XCOM soldiers who were grouping near the front of the shield, behind the cover ADVENT was establishing. Soldiers were already using it, aiming their weapons at the alien fortress. More were massing out front, and she saw a mixture of those enhanced Mutons and…she squinted…Oyariah.

“Titans,” Moriai stated, the scowl plain in his voice. “I remember them from Japan. The damn things took several rockets to take out just one.”

Nuan had never seen them in person, and they definitely looked foreboding. They stood as tall as the Mutons, carrying massive shields that seemed to be made out of stone, nearly as tall as them, and in their free hands they held flanged clubs like Iosif’s. Nuan knew they were naturally tough, and the black armor they wore was only going to make them more difficult to kill.

Then as one they began moving forward down the street towards them. The twenty or so Oyariah stood in front of the larger number of enhanced Mutons, effectively providing a barrier. Not that it was needed as the shield prevented anyone from firing on them. “Clever,” Oliver commented. “Guess they’re going to force us to do something unless we want them to get close.”

“Take your positions,” Geist commanded, walking up, with a dozen Lancer Executors beside him. “I will be lowering the shield momentarily. Begin firing. The Priests will provide offensive support, and when the Lancers and Iosif charge, focus your fire on the base itself.”

The energy pulsating around his arm vanished and the shield fell. “Open fire.”

The pounding gauss fire slammed into the Oyariah line, the sheer force causing them to slow momentarily, before they closed ranks even tighter than before and began advancing, although at a much more methodical and slow pace than before. Rockets firing from the Dragoons sped towards the Oyariah line and the Mutons behind them, although the damage done seemed negligible to the Mutons who shrugged off the loss of armor or limb and continued forward.

The Oyariah Titan shields hit had pieces blown off, but they still maintained their integrity. That was when the Priests began their attack. A psionic maelstrom erupted in the Muton ranks, ripping one apart at the center and causing substantial damage to the ones around him. Psionic shears of energy slashed around the Titans, although it seemed to not be having much of an effect outside of damaging the armor.

One Priest screamed some kind of battle cry, as she extended a hand towards the encroaching Titans, and one was slowly lifted into the air, and with a thrust of her wrist, was sent flying into the sky. Nuan was doing her own part as she firing into the line of aliens, although they all had to contend now with the fire from the base, which was constant and unrelenting; barrages of green plasma raining down upon them.

The Goliath was the focus of a good portion of the defense, and the Priests were maintaining shields on it as it returned fire. “Engage at close range,” Geist directed calmly. “All ADVENT and XCOM forces, focus fire on base defenses and personnel.”

Iosif and the Executors charged forward, and the Oyariah took the opportunity to finally split and charge the encroaching Humans. Over a third of their number had been killed, so it was a much fairer fight than before, discounting the Mutons behind them. Fortunately, Geist and the Priests were also on top of that.

The Mutons were clearly able to take more damage, and were unrelenting in their attack as they moved forward, firing steadily at the defensive lines. However, Geist seemed to have a way to deal with them. One Muton was suddenly surrounded by psionic walls, and the ceiling barrier above him suddenly slammed down, crushing it to the ground. A small psionic barrier also popped up between the melee duel and the Mutons, forcing them to go around while the Priests continued their psionic attacks.

As for the duel that was taking place, it was not exactly going as planned. The Humans were smaller and faster, but the Oyariah were also faster than they looked, and easily outmassed even the strongest of Humans. It wasn’t so much of a duel as it was pairs of Humans and aliens avoiding being crushed by the other.

One Executor missed a swipe with his warhammer, and the Oyariah slammed the shield into him, forcing him to stagger back while a lighting strike with the alien’s flanged club slammed into the Executor’s knee, shattering the bone and while pinning the fallen Executor with the bottom of his shield. The Titan raised the club and slammed it down on the Lancer’s face until it wasn’t anything but mush inside.

Iron skin didn’t do much for blunt injuries it seemed.

In general the shields were giving the Oyariah a gross advantage. That they also outnumbered the Lancers, even slimly, was also another advantage. One on one, it was clear that the Oyariah held the upper hand. Iosif was unsurprisingly doing the best, although he was more _surviving_ instead of actually _fighting_.

Two of the Titans were fighting him, and he was doing his best to block their attacks by well-placed psionic shields, dodging, and when possible, giving return strikes of his own. Although there was little he could really do against the shields which the Titans continued to try and slam into him. “We need some help here!” Iosif called.

Geist motioned to several of the Priests, who directed their abilities not towards the Mutons, who while not completely destroyed, were far fewer than before. The Oyariah were suddenly thrown back, tossed into the air, frozen, or had their weapons torn away.

“Order the Hussars to eliminate the Titans,” Geist ordered, as he created several more crushing prisons on the Mutons. “They are more dangerous than I anticipated.”

The Officers quickly communicated that order, and a few moments later heads of various Titans began snapping back. Some took nearly a half dozen shots, but they did go down, leaking golden fluid form their faces. The Titans held in stasis allowed the remaining Executors and Iosif to get in some strikes of their own.

The helmet of a Titan crumpled under a two-handed blow from Iosif, and a repeat blow seconds later penetrated the head itself, spraying blood all around it. Nuan looked around the defense lines, trying to see how much damage they had sustained beyond losing many of the Executors. There were multiple ADVENT corpses from the Muton fire, and that from the base, and others who were being dragged away to be fixed by the Medics.

The MDUs had suffered losses as well, being easy targets and exposed to sustained plasma fire from a distance. Nuan couldn’t tell what losses had been inflicted on the aliens, but she doubted that it was equal. She hoped it was, but realistically, that probably wasn’t the case.

There were more aliens coming out of the base now, and they appeared to be Vitakara that had been similarly modified like the Mutons. Very not good. They were accompanied by drones, and were carrying what looked like tools with hovercarts behind them. Engineers probably, and ones who were likely trying to establish a closer line.

“The current strategy is ineffective,” Geist said, swiping a hand towards the battlefield. “We need to reevaluate.” The purple barrier between the two armies reappeared and the plasma fire slowly stopped. Nuan glanced around again, noting that there were many of the Priests who had taken their helmets off, and looked exhausted or sick. For some of them, this might have been their first actual combat mission.

Now protected, the Medics were everywhere, and the soldiers, Officers, and Lancers were rushing ammo around, reloading, and frantically talking with each other. Engineers were working on repairing and reinforcing the defenses, while Geist was frantically talking with several Priests and Officers.

The battle had now turned into a siege. Nuan supposed the plan now was to hold out until the main ADVENT army arrived. Air support was likely not going to happen until the main AA defenses were taken care of, and there were already dogfights in the skies.

Hopefully they could last until then.

***

_Near Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_11/21/2016 – 3:17 P.M._

There were certain expectations in war. Humans in particular expected certain things from their enemies. There were fights on certain fronts that were to be expected. Japan, Korea, America, ADVENT knew they were going to be attacked. There was some honesty there. Both sides accepted that the war was going to be fought along the forever changing lines.

Yet there were certain things they would be surprised by.

An attack on the capital of one of their biggest countries was likely among them.

“We are approaching the outer defenses,” the Battlemaster stated as they strode towards the city in the distance. “Prepare to open fire.”

He had wondered how best to send ADVENT a clear message without provoking Aegis to significant action. Perhaps he would miscalculate here, but he doubted it. There were certain figures that would prompt a response. Chancellor Vyandar was one, and he doubted he would be able to penetrate the ADVENT HQ as Switzerland was by all reports, a fortress.

The same could not be said for Washington D.C, or President Nicole Treduant. The landmarks of America would be razed to the ground today, and their President would join the numbers of the dead. No holding back; the goal today was a simple display of consequences.

If ADVENT wanted to make a statement, he would oblige them.

“Honored Battlemaster,” Senorium said by his side, the Warlock fully armored and ready for battle. “The Cleanser Ships are in position. ADVENT is likely aware now. They are requesting permission to open fire.”

“Granted,” the Battlemaster stated as they began approaching several of the outer trenches. While ADVENT maintained a garrison here, as well as some of the Flak Towers, there hadn’t been a sustained effort to make it the fortress Korea was right now. Likely because they had not expected an attack here.

He was aware of what would happen once he was spotted, and indeed it probably already had. The President would be evacuated, likely through the underground tunnels from the White House, and evacuate at the Anacostia Naval Support Facility. The Battlemaster was expecting several additional contingencies, since he wasn’t naïve enough to believe they would be so brazen as to make their _actual_ evacuation plan publically available. How he had been able to find it with a simple Google search was baffling.

As such, the Cleanser ships weren’t just going to target the Support Facility; they were going to target every airport in the D.C. area. While one focused on the airports, the other would hit any Flak Towers available. The protection fleet of Sectoid fighters would be sufficient assuming ADVENT could even reach them in the middling atmosphere.

The small strike force he had brought along were all chosen for specific purposes. Very few could fit in the Cultro, so he had to make do with what he had. The Warlock was an obvious choice, and would provide substantial psionic support. There were a dozen of Fectorian’s modified soldiers, six of his Muton Ravagers who specialized in explosives and destroying buildings, and six modified Zararch agents, primarily long-range snipers.

The only other units were the four Spectres. Black humanoid figures who occasionally rippled as the nanites continuously recalibrated, they mimicked Humans and Vitakarians in shape, including the five-fingered hands, although they held no weapons in them. The heads were akin to helmets, with a symmetrical green light strip running down the sides of their faces. From what the Battlemaster had seen, this color changed once they were in combat. They said no words, but would follow his orders without question.

A half dozen yellow streaks rained down from the sky and slammed into the facility. The Battlemaster couldn’t see it of course, but he could hear the muffled explosions in the distance. Another dozen streaks landed a short distance from that. The Battlemaster knew there was still a heavy civilian presence in the city, and thus many would likely die today, although he had taken several measures to mitigate that.

The airstrike on the main Reagan National Airport wouldn’t hit the facility proper, but it would target the airstrips themselves, as well as the planes, rendering escape impossible. Aside from that, there was another rule enforced for his strike team. “Remember,” he warned Senorium as the ADVENT soldiers in the distance began scrambling to get into the trenches. “Do not target civilians unless they attack.”

“Of course, Battlemaster,” Senorium planted his feet and drew upon the psionic energy as more airstrikes pounded in the distance. Encased in the swirling vortex of energy, he thrust a hand forward and hundreds of ghostly purple figures charged the defense lines. Scattered gauss fire and screams of panic greeted this, and the Battlemaster charged forward.

“Destroy your assigned targets!” He commanded, performing short staccato psionic dashes to make it more difficult for the Humans to target him. “Leave none in ADVENT alive today!”

The Spectres dissolved into a black swarm of nanites and joined the charge forward, as did Fectorian’s soldiers. There were four main targets, which would be led by one Spectre and four of Fectorian’s soldiers. The Warlock would continue waging a constant attack from the spot he was in now, continuously summoning more of his ghostly and disposable soldiers.

There were three targets the Spectre teams would attack: The Pentagon, the Anacostia Naval Facility, and from there, the underground tunnels, and finally a march through the city targeting the various monuments. At the same time, he and the remaining Spectres would march towards the White House and Capitol Building to destroy both of them. Once President Treduant was located, he would converge on her position and execute her.

The possibility of her escape was higher than he would like, but even if she was not killed, this would have a significant impact. The Battlemaster materialized in front of a trio of ADVENT soldiers rushing towards the trenches, and he decapitated them with one swipe, and sent another twelve around him flying with a telekinetic blast.

The Spectre materialized in the trenches and grabbed one soldier by the throat who began screaming as the Spectre infected him with nanites. At the same time it extended another hand towards the soldiers behind it, almost invisible wisps of nanites flying towards them. The soldier in the front began clawing at himself, and was gradually covered with a thin layer of nanites, and a few moments later he was still.

The gauss fire against it was ineffective as the Spectre simply opened up holes in itself where the slugs were calculated to hit, and they passed right through with no damage whatsoever. The Spectre dematerialized and rejoined the Battlemaster as he continued advancing forward down the street into the still-bustling city.

Behind him, the first of the new Spectres emerged. For all intents and purposes, they were the same thing, except they retained the outline of the victim. The Battlemaster decided to wait several minutes for the new Spectre army to form, and soon enough, they emerged. Black forms of ADVENT soldiers, with the now-red lines running down the helmet.

The Battlemaster had seen them work, and knew there was unlikely to be anything left of the body, and even the ones the Spectre had killed quickly would eventually rise as another one. Every nanite had the programming to create more Spectres, no matter if it was one nanite, or one million.

The civilians had noticed him as he continued advancing, and while he didn’t attack, most broke down in an utter panic as he approached, swerving away and crashing, or getting out of their cars and fleeing on foot.

Inconsequential, not worth paying attention to.

However, they were making it difficult for the ADVENT soldiers to target him or the Spectres. Missed shots would almost certainly hit civilians, but he was not so hindered. While the soldiers yelled for the civilians to get down, he reached out with his two lower arms and telekinetically snapped the necks of the ADVENT soldiers in the area.

Normally he would spend some time fighting them, but today there wasn’t time.

The Spectres paused by the bodies as they marched by, implanting several nanites to begin the creation of more Spectres. No holding back today. Not anymore.

Even if XCOM decided to engage, he did not plan to toy with them. He had a mission to accomplish, and nothing was going to distract him this time.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room – United States of America_

_11/21/2016 – 3:51 P.M._

The day had started out very well. To be fair, it was still holding steady through most of the day, but it was now starting to falter. The Commander had to admit he hadn’t expected this to happen. Where the Battlemaster would show up was a constant guessing game, and he had expected LA or Sacramento, if he showed up at all.

But definitely _not_ Washington D.C.

The Citadel was not quite chaos at this point, but something very close to it as reports were scattered and contradictory over what exactly was happening. The Collective had actually used orbital bombardment and had targeted the airports and Flak Towers. There were Firestorms being sent up to fight, but the damage was already done.

Given that they had specifically bombarded the place where the President was supposed to evacuate, it was likely that Treduant was a target for the Battlemaster. They hadn’t received anything on her status, and the Commander assumed it would be a helicopter evacuation, although he didn’t know if there were any that would be able to get there in time.

He wouldn’t put it past the Battlemaster to blow up the whole White House if he learned there were helicopters going to it.

Tactically, this was a brilliant move, devastating as it was for ADVENT, and he was furious with himself that he hadn’t anticipated it. Such a surprise attack seemed atypical of the Battlemaster, something more akin to what Quisilia would do. Which was quite possibly what the Battlemaster had been relying on.

And the response was going to take time since the team responsible for fighting the Battlemaster was on the West Coast, and had to spend valuable time flying to the other side of the country.

On top of _that_ , the Collective had launched _additional_ attacks.

“We’re losing too much ground in Alaska,” Commander Christiaens said grimly, looking down at the holotable. “It’ll take a couple days to get support there, even if I can send several Russian Legions immediately. The Canadian Legions are preparing their own country, but they might not be enough. A lot of the Mexican Legion is also assisting us right now.”

“It’s luckily concentrated in a few cities,” the Commander noted. “Even if they sustain heavy damage, they can hold out for a couple days at least.”

She scowled. “Not if they decide to bombard us from space.”

That was a good point.

“Still no word from the President?” He asked, hoping it wasn’t rhetorical.

“None,” she shook her head. “And apparently the entire city is under attack. The Pentagon is saying they’re being attacked by cyborg aliens and some kind of nanite weapon. Others are reporting the same thing. Black humanoid things that dissolve and reform – and then replicate.”

“No video?” He asked.

“Nothing actually usable yet,” she said. “But we do have images of those psionic manifestations again. That Warlock is apparently with the Battlemaster, who is apparently not even giving us a chance to fight back. Apparently all those times before he was holding back.” She rubbed her forehead. “He snapped the necks of a dozen soldiers with a gesture. Fuck. Even if I get every available soldier there, it will be too late, and I can’t just bomb the city.”

While the Commander didn’t have any hesitation sacrificing civilians, he did agree there. It would accomplish nothing and likely not work. “At least he’s not targeting them,” he noted. “Which is…something.”

“It works to his advantage,” she said. “Makes us hesitate to open fire, and they get out of his way without him prompting. Win-win for him. Not to mention it doesn’t give us more fuel for propaganda.” She paused. “Although after this that’s not really going to save him.”

“Let’s focus on the other battles,” the Commander suggested. “We’ve both done what we can for D.C. Now it’s up to the soldiers.”

Despite that, he wasn’t confident in what the outcome would be.

Hopefully the XCOM team could handle him.

And even if that was successful…these apparent nanoweapons might be a bigger issue.

He shook his head. One problem at a time. The Battlemaster was the key to their military operation. Weapons could be destroyed eventually; Ethereals were not so easy.

***

_Los Angeles, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 1_

_11/21/2016 – 2:10 P.M._

The battle had been proceeding relatively well; Patricia’s domination had successfully permeated thousands of aliens and already she had forced the destruction of multiple Gateways, although the Collective had wised up and began sending through mechanical units and Vanguards, who while they couldn’t resist her concentrated power, could protect themselves against the cursory commands she imposed on the more vulnerable aliens.

And then it had all been stopped, and she had been metaphorically kicked out into the real world with a burst of dizziness as the sights and sounds of the world rushed back to her. ADVENT Special Forces and soldiers were still rushing into the city, but she knew from briefly scanning the mood that it was a continuous hard fight.

Frowning, she closed her eyes and extended her reach yet again. The aliens she could still sense…but there was indeed something _else_ there. She stiffened upon a cursory inspection, and felt the presence of something ancient. It wasn’t the Imperator, she was familiar enough with him that she couldn’t mistake his presence, which meant that there was only one logical explanation.

The Overmind.

She didn’t bother turning around as her hands clenched unconsciously. _So this is how you will try and force my hand, Imperator? Cheat?_

“I did nothing,” the Imperator stated walking forward, wearing the same form as before, although he didn’t exactly sound displeased. “I suspect the Battlemaster asked for his assistance. Be thankful he is restricting himself to defense.”

Patricia figured she’d might as well walk forward into the city itself, since her telepathy wasn’t useful right now. _Then would you politely ask him to leave?_

“And why would I do that?” The Imperator asked, his voice split between amusement and sincerity. “What do you expect would happen?” He raised a finger at Patricia. “You are _dangerous_. You are a _threat_. It should not be surprising that you would be dealt with as one.”

He paused briefly, then once more clasped his hands behind his back. “Nonetheless, my offer of help still stands. I know what the Overmind is doing, and how to combat it. There are more aliens coming in now, in numbers your soldiers will not be able to hold out against. Fectorian’s soldiers are only some of what you should be concerned about, and I doubt you want to lose today after what has happened.”

 _What are you talking about?_ Patricia mentally growled as she stormed around the street corner, ignoring the ADVENT soldiers snapping to attention as she passed them. The sounds of combat echoed in the distance, and she followed.

The Imperator kept pace beside her. “The Battlemaster has launched attacks across the coasts. South Korea is under siege, and the Battlemaster himself is attacking Washington D.C.”

Patricia spun to him. “What?” She demanded out loud. _“How?”_

“Confirm it with your superiors if you wish,” the Imperator dismissed with a wave. “I have no reason to lie to you, but I suspect that it raises the stakes for you. Now you cannot _afford_ to lose. And why are you skeptical, Patricia? Is it because I am supposed to be your enemy that is holding you back?”

 _Just a little bit._ She fumed, trying to consider the implications. _And also because Aegis told me enough about what you can do. Letting you in my head is a bad idea._

“Debatable,” the Imperator mused, glancing around at the rushing soldiers. “What I am offering is information. _Knowledge_. Things that you are continuously seeking. If you have a noted flaw, Patricia, it is that you lack _nuance_. You are blunt and see the world in certain ways, whereas reality is not as straightforward. Aegis represents one such viewpoint. I represent another. Neither are necessarily right, nor absolute, yet you insist that one is more valid than the other.”

 _You are trying to confuse me,_ Patricia physically shook her head as she approached the frontal defense line. Plasma was flying in green waves toward the ADVENT and XCOM soldiers, as they besieged a carved-out tower which had likely been part of a greater block, and now was an alien command center. Surrounding it was a black alloy wall, with multiple barricades and cover placed in squarish formations around it.

Elites, Vanguards, Fectorian’s soldiers, even Cyberdisks were floating above. The purple of psionic attacks flared on both sides, and ADVENT soldiers were falling, succumbing to plasma fire or psionic attacks. The aliens were filling out their ranks with reinforcements presumably from the Gateway housed within the tower.

“You do not need to fail, Patricia,” the Imperator said. “Witness what I can do before passing judgement on my sincerity.” She watched as he stepped forward, observed the battle before him, raised a gauntleted hand and snapped the fingers of one hand. As one the entirety of the alien forces, minus the cyberdisks, fell to the ground.

“I have taken the liberty of ensuring the Gateway is deactivated from the inside,” the Imperator continued. “Consider this a lesson, Patricia, what I did you could have very easily done. Yet you are too quick to give up when faced with a roadblock, only returning when you have overwhelming strength to destroy it. Every psion has their weaknesses, and the Overmind is no exception. I can always give you what you want, but I am now curious what you can figure out for yourself.”

The sounds of ADVENT destroying the Cyberdisks, and a few Vitakarian soldiers who were somehow still alive, faded in the background as she appraised the Imperator. _I suppose I should say thanks. Whatever your reasons. If you’re being so generous, might you kill the aliens elsewhere?_

He smiled. “Not today, psion. But you should go for now. If I might offer some advice, take your position in the tower as the defenses are more entrenched further in. Goodbye for now, and I will be waiting should you accept my help.”

And with that he vanished once more. He always left her with a lot to think about, and maybe she could do that once there was a lull. But right now they needed to take the tower and fortify it. “Secure the tower!” She demanded, marching forward, Creed rushing towards her. While ADVENT and several XCOM soldiers moved to help, he came up.

“Was that you?” He asked.

“No,” she answered honestly. “Not this time. There’s an Ethereal protecting them. Something was probably miscalculated. That’s…easier to do than you think. It doesn’t matter, we need to keep moving forward. It’s only going to get harder.”

Even through his helmet she could sense the questions swirling around. “Alright,” he finally said. “We need to get caught up on the larger situation. Some of the things I’ve heard are bad.”

“So I’ve heard,” she muttered, still somewhat in awe at the sheer gall of the Battlemaster. “Let’s get communications fully up.”

***

_Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_11/21/2016 – 4:39 P.M._

The area close to the White House had a large amount of military forces, and for what little good it did them, they put up a fight.

Unfortunately for them it was largely ineffective against the Warlock’s psionic manifestations, and absolutely worthless against the Spectres. The nanite figures had reached the point where they nearly outnumbered the ADVENT soldiers in the area, and were spreading like locusts throughout the city. The Battlemaster found them to be by far one of the most useful units in combat.

No one was immune to them. He dashed towards a team of Lancers and blasted several back with a telekinetic push, snapped the neck of one, and picked up the other by the helmet and tossed her directly towards a Spectre. The body passed through the Spectre and emerged on the other side, completely encased in nanites and thrashing on the ground as they began consuming her.

Explosions in the distance signaled the fall of monuments and buildings. The Capitol Building was burning and the Spectres were already inside, killing the ADVENT personnel within. The Battlemaster had made the distinction between civilian and ADVENT clear – anyone affiliated with ADVENT in a governmental and military capacity was a valid military target, the rest were not.

Ironically, considering how Humans despised their politicians, some might not consider it a great loss. But the destruction of the center of United States government would hinder them for weeks at least, and with the President dead or in hiding, it would take longer. Streaks of gold from the sky struck intermittently, likely targeting more Flak Towers.

Now he was at his primary target, the White House stood in front of him and the ADVENT forces were going to fight to the death to protect it from him. Admirable, but pointless when facing his army of Spectres, who bore the appearance of the soldiers they had killed. He paused as he heard the familiar roar of a Skyranger overhead.

XCOM. Expected, and today, he wasn’t going to waste time dealing with them.

Right on cue, three XCOM soldiers jumped out and two flew out, an odd combination. He recognized several of them. One wielded a warhammer encased in psionic energy. Chan Jin-Taek, if he recalled the name. The latter soldier who had dropped out was a larger concern. Matthew Hawkins, one of the Furies.

Target one was now designated. The telekine posed the greatest threat and needed to be eliminated. All of the Templars were approaching him like they were expecting a standard duel. He wouldn’t resort to the Spectres, they did not fully deserve that level of refusal, but he was not interested in them slowing him down.

One psionic dash and slash later, aiming right for the neck of the Fury, and the headless corpse of Matthew fell to the ground before he could even make a motion. The Battlemaster lifted two of the Templars with a free hand and slammed them violently to the ground, while using his other free hand to grasp Chan telekinetically and pull him towards his grasp.

Another psionic dash forward, and the Battlemaster stabbed downwards into the skull of one of the Templars, a woman judging by the brief scream, and twisted the neck of the Templar in his grasp with surprising ease. It appeared he had not received the Iron Skin genetic modification, but nonetheless he was killed easily.

The other XCOM soldier, who he now saw wasn’t a Templar, but another psion, on the ground he lifted up, and squeezed the helmet; applying physical and psionic pressure until it shattered under his hand and the skull underneath was crushed. He dropped the body and leapt in the air towards the Archangels, one of whom was unable to get out of the reach of his greatsword, and cut easily through the engines, forcing the Archangel to crash to the ground.

While not dead, the Spectres were converging, and he would die to them. He reached up with a hand to telekinetically grab the other Archangel, and began crushing it. The delicate components could not withstand the psionic pressure, and with a thrown hand the solder was slammed to the ground.

His back turned to the soon-to-be-dead soldiers, he resumed his march to the White House, seeing two more XCOM soldiers retreating in the distance. Snipers most likely, irrelevant. He had noted one had been wielding one of the electricity weapons, and felt some regret that he hadn’t been able to test out the armor properly, but there would be time for that later.

A dozen of the Spectres peeled off to follow him, and he simply pointed to the interior. “Locate President Treduant, do not kill her without my command.” His size made entering the White House an issue, but the Spectres would perform that task well enough, as well as kill anyone else inside. As far as he was concerned, the hard part was over.

While he waited, he observed the fires in the distance that permeated the air. The muffled booms of rockets signaled another relic of Human civilization falling. They would not see it that way, of course, but Humans placed a surprisingly amount of sentimentality and symbolism in their monuments and statues.

But that age of Humanity was over.

 _“President Treduant has been located,”_ the dead voice of the Spectre informed him. _“White House roof. She has not attempted to escape.”_

That was surprising. He would have expected at least an attempt. Regardless, he marched towards the White House itself and leapt upward, landing on the roof with a thud. President Nicole Treduant stood before him, closed a briefcase she held in her hand and calmly set it down to face him fully.

She didn’t look any different than how she was during her various public appearances. Calm, charismatic, and proud. Fearless too, judging from the way she faced him.

It was the body language of a woman who had accepted she was going to die, and was going to go out on her feet. Admirable. He had intended to kill her quickly to begin with, but she had gained some respect in his eyes.

“Battlemaster,” she finally greeted.

“Madam President,” he briefly inclined his head. “I suspect you know what happens next.”

She gave a sad smile. “I do.”

“I am surprised you did not try and leave.”

“We began,” she said, looking away in the distance. “Although the bombardment rendered the initial plan impossible. The chaos made a ground exit similarly difficult, and leaving by helicopter would be conspicuous and would likely be targeted by your ships. So I did what I could. All ADVENT forces were ordered to retreat and you get to kill me. Little more I can do except fight a battle I’ll likely lose.”

She reached for the pistol at her side, and the two Spectres moved forward before the Battlemaster waved them off. She didn’t pose a threat, not to him. “You are brave, Madam President. You will die well.”

She smiled unexpectedly. “As will you, I hope.”

“You cannot kill me. Nor can XCOM.”

“No,” she said. “I can’t. But I’m not going to just let your army of…” she looked behind her. “They are made of nanites right? Little machines?”

“Correct. A highly advanced weaponization of nanotechnology.”

“Good.” Her smile widened, and the Battlemaster took a step forward. “I didn’t want to make a mistake that big.”

 _“Nuclear launch detected!”_ The CODEX suddenly interjected.

Impossible.

He looked at the woman in disbelief. “You ordered a nuclear strike here?!”

“It seems you do have some way to know,” she lightly chuckled. “Not exactly. But you can’t outrun it now. You like talking I guess,” she lifted the briefcase. “Right before you came, I authorized a nuclear launch, and the rocket will detonate before you can escape.”

Not likely, the Cultro could _probably_ pick him up in time. But he didn’t like the position he was being put in. “Killing me won’t make the Collective leave. And my ship will arrive before the blast hits.”

“Oh?” She asked. “Who said the nuclear blast was going to hit _here_?”

She looked down and the sky suddenly exploded in a blast of orange and white. He looked up to the sky and was wondering why she would bother launching a strike in the atmosphere when the ground below was hit with a noticeable shockwave. Then the Spectres began disintegrating; falling to the ground like dust.

The ones around Treduant were the same way. The lights across the city suddenly flickered off; cars stopped moving; the city itself came to an abrupt, screeching halt. Only now did the Battlemaster remember that an effect that a nuclear weapon had when detonated at a certain range was a dispersed EMP effect.

All of his suit electronics were no longer working. No communication with the Collective; no HUD, even his new resistance against electricity was likely no longer effective. Not once had he been attacked with that kind of weapon, and as such had never thought to have the suit hardened.

That was probably what Fectorian had mentioned when discussing the flaws of the suit. He should have listened and followed his advice more closely.

The situation was now surprisingly precarious.

In the distance, the Battlemaster saw the Cultro fall from the sky and crash. “Well,” Treduant said coming to stand beside him. “It worked.”

All he could do was nod. “Well done. It did.”

Tricked again by a Human. They were certainly proving to be intelligent and worthy opponents. He couldn’t hate them for fighting for what they presumed was their own survival. “You didn’t target the civilians,” she said. “Noble for an alien.”

“No reason to.”

“Do you want to say anything else to me, or should we finish this?”

He turned to her, right as she raised the pistol, waiting for him to make a move. “No. Die well, Nicole Treduant. It is an honor to kill you.” Before she could even fire off a shot he lashed out with his sword and easily separated her head from her body in a spray of red.

The headless corpse tumbled over, the head a short distance away. The Battlemaster flourished his blade and considered the city before him. He had no communications, no support, and no direction. He was a target for ADVENT for miles around.

Unfortunately, he was nowhere near Collective territory, and he had no idea where the Warlock was, and it was likely ADVENT would be targeting him next. He would have to fight his way to safety, and that was going to be a long and bloody road.

With sword in hand, he jumped to the ground, and prepared for a long battle ahead.


	29. Siege: North America

 

_Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_11/21/2016 – 9:47 P.M._

Night had fallen some time ago, and the Battlemaster ducked into one of the many alleys in the city to pause and think.

The situation here was not ideal.

Treduant was dead, and Washington D.C. was coming apart, with fires spreading throughout the city and lighting up the night. The primary objective had, albeit with some difficulties, been accomplished. The issue was he was more or less stranded deep in enemy territory, and ADVENT was going to be closing on him with every soldier in the area.

Treduant’s last order had been tactically brilliant, and had placed him in what could be considered a dangerous situation.

The Spectres, which had been his largest advantage, were all dead; Fectorian’s soldiers were either damaged, or by this point, likely destroyed by the surviving ADVENT soldiers. Senorium was likely alive, but he’d seen no psionic manifestations or any indication he was in the area. While the Battlemaster didn’t believe he would just run, he was aware that the Warlock probably wouldn’t stay in the same place, nor did he have the energy to maintain an attack for hours.

By now ADVENT likely knew what was happening, and while it was risky to stay around the same general area, it was arguably more risky to just leave the city entirely.

He was not _small_. Stealth and subtlety were not his skills, and with his size, it was impossible. It was not a matter of if he would be found, but _when_. ADVENT was not going to negotiate or try anything other than killing him once and for all, and he suspected that they wouldn’t restrain themselves in the tools they used.

If he was caught far enough out, there was little stopping a nuclear strike from hitting his position and not only would he be ignorant of it being launched at all, he had no means of escape; no means to contact the Collective, and as an unfortunate result, staying near D.C was the safest place to be.

However, it would not take the Collective long to figure out where he was. The problem was going to be breaching what would soon be the heaviest concentration of ADVENT and XCOM forces in the country. At this point in time, he was vulnerable. That of course did not mean he was in danger, but he recognized that this was perhaps the best chance ADVENT would have to kill him.

He looked down at the red-stained sword. It had been decades since he’d been in a sustained fight. Bodily fluids wouldn’t affect the metal, though it was a different sight than what he had become accustomed to. But he did not train for mere show. He could fight for days at full strength, and he would receive help long before he began to tire.

He walked back out onto the street and continued forward, stepping around, between, and over the abandoned cars as the cracking fires burned around him. The city was eerily silent, and the silhouettes of the hundreds of corpses on the ground did little to change the feeling. All the civilians had fled some time ago, although the Battlemaster saw flickering shadows every so often.

Likely homeless Humans, not a concern for him. There might be some others staying in their homes, but they were not a danger to him.

The EMP had at least worked against ADVENT. Every soldier in the blast would have no communications, and their weapons would be incapable of firing. At least their gauss weapons; the Battlemaster had already encountered some soldiers who had reverted to pre-invasion ballistic weapons that, while laughably ineffective, did seem to still work.

But largely he had been left alone; left alone to wander the city as it burned around him. It was a curious sensation to see the aftermath of the conflict around him. Very rarely did he stay after a battle, leaving the cleanup and organization to his subordinates, but winding around now reminded him of the latter parts of the Synthesized War, when the core Imperial worlds had been attacked.

The first Siege of Etharia Prime reminded him of this. It had been one of the first worlds colonized by the Empire, and had eventually turned into one of its most culturally and historically important planets. It had been home to some of the most advanced labs, experimental architecture and archives supposedly dating back to the formation of the Empire.

Having such an important planet slowly be destroyed had almost been worse to witness than it simply being destroyed at once. There had been no way to retreat, and the rest of the fleets had been caught out of position, and at the time he’d known it would be days before they would get reinforcements, leaving him with only a few soldiers of the Division of Battlemasters, several of the Guardians, and several thousand civilians to work with.

Entire sections of the planet had to be sacrificed; entire records of Imperial history had been simply erased; homes, relics, and more were destroyed by the indiscriminate horde. The cities retained were consistently under siege, with it slowly crumbling around them as they desperately tried to hold the lines.

By the end, they had saved a world that was little more than rubble.

It had taught him a lesson about the uselessness of sentimentality. Strategically, the world had held little value to the Empire, and was simply considered such because of the emotional value assigned to it. And that had brought them nothing but thousands of dead Ethereals.

If he’d had to do it again, he would have abandoned the planet and had a Reaper destroy it, killing the dozen or so Director Flagships on it. At least the victory would be worth something, as they had barely managed to destroy half that number before help had arrived.

He did wonder what lesson the Humans would take from this. Looking up at the shattered Lincoln Memorial, with the Capitol Building collapsing in fire opposite it, he imagined the Humans would be furious. But he understood the effective psychological distress this would cause, because it had happened once before.

Oddly enough though, as he turned to walk down by the reflecting pool that led to the Washington Monument in the center, he did feel some regret. While this was a war, attacking symbols and monuments of history could be seen as dishonorable. Something that the Zar’Chon or Quisilia would have probably come up with, now that he thought about it.

He found himself unknowingly walking down a pre-determined path, one with a wall that had been directly targeted with missiles. There were some corpses on the path as well, which seemed to be leading to a circle ahead with some toppled flagpoles. Ironically, the United States flag was still flying below.

He looked at what the missiles had hit and noticed that the wall had originally seemed to be a large mural of sorts. Soot and cracks covered what was still left, but he could see what was likely originally supposed to be there. To the right there was a triangular field that held statues, and though most were melted, warped, and had clearly sustained some damage, their original forms were still recognizable.

The Humans depicted were equipped differently than modern ones were. The statues held rifles, which while clearly aged, were recognizable as guns. However the statues were also depicted as wearing some kind of poncho-jackets. Odd clothing, and it seemed more of a hindrance than anything else. There weren’t any Human females either, which seemed strange to him. Perhaps they had not been as involved in the past.

Times had clearly changed if that was the case.

A memorial of some kind, most likely. As he approached the center he saw the dust of the Spectres and multiple dead ADVENT soldiers around it. There was also some writing which likely explained what the purpose of this was. It didn’t appear to have been completely destroyed, so he spent a few moments reading it.

A memorial to something that was called the Korean War. One that, from the brief history written, did not appear to have gone well for anyone. With how many had died, he was surprised he hadn’t seen it covered as much in his rather brief search of Human history. There had only been a few conflicts that had seemed relevant at the time, namely the World Wars and the more recent War on Terror, since those were most equivalent to the tactics he would be facing.

In truth, the history itself was not as important as learning their military specifications and modern tactics. He had assumed that, while the wars in the past would certainly shape the future to an extent, modern warfare would take cursory inspiration at best. It would be different; evolve and improve. With how the current war had gone, and with the Humans clearly adapting tactics used in older wars, that was perhaps a mistake.

He shook his head at nothing. When planning the attack, the only place he had thought to really avoid was the Arlington Cemetery, as that was simply not an acceptable place for combat. It was disrespectful and an unnecessary target. However, he could have made the same justification for monuments like these. Regardless of their irrelevance to this war, he could respect those who fought and died in battle; to ignore that was disrespectful regardless of species.

He sighed to himself and turned to walk back to the Reflecting Pool, almost wanting to be attacked as it would be less distracting than thinking. It appeared he had likely made something of a mistake, not in the actual target, but by setting few restrictions on the targets. Military targets were acceptable, and his original mindset had been that anything aside from civilians was a fair target.

But it did raise the question of if it was _necessary_. In the end, Humanity would be conquered; in which case, was it really needed to have their relics and history attacked as well? If they were an actual threat, this would not be a debate, as the situation had changed, but this was far from a full war. The Humans were clever; far more so than he had initially given them credit for, but they would not win a war, that was simply impossible.

The Humans should be beaten militarily, and only that. This war did not need to be won through trickery or terror; that was not the right way it should be conducted, and something he had put to the side when attacking D.C. The message needed to be sent, but it could have been done just as effectively had he simply targeted the Pentagon, White House, and other military targets. Making the city itself a target had perhaps been a mistake.

The recent conflicts with the Humans had made him realize that the Collective Military itself was deeply flawed. While the Humans were not holding back, and advancing at a steady rate, the Collective had been stagnant for entire decades, not just the military. All of them were preparing to fight the same war again and had not been _learning_ anything about how to improve.

There had been no _drive_. No reason to innovate. Advance.

If this was what a primitive, and the Battlemaster was no longer sure that word applied to Humans anymore, species could do against them, then what chance did they have against a more advanced species, much less the Synthesized?

Fectorian, Revelean; the Imperator had allowed both of them to work on their projects, but never allowed them to truly affect what was supposedly the organization his species was to _lead_. Perhaps Aegis was more justified in making a statement against the Imperator than he had originally assumed. While a traitor, perhaps there were more reasons than what the Imperator had said to him.

For an organization called the _Ethereal Collective_ , he was wondering why he was the only one to actually have a public presence.

If they were supposed to be the leaders of such a Collective, why weren’t they?

Was that one reason why they were struggling to such an extent?

The Battlemaster stopped walking, wondering why exactly he was thinking about this now. He was not anywhere close to being out of danger, and this was something that required a safer environment to really consider the implications.

A battlefield was not that place.

Thumping in the distance reached his ears, signaling the sound of helicopters arriving in the distance. They were arriving.

He flourished the blade in his hand, and marched forward to fight ADVENT’s reinforcements.

***

_The Citadel, Situation Room – United States of America_

_11/21/2016 – 11:51 P.M._

“I have every nearby Garrison closing on D.C. now,” Laura updated the hologram of Saudia, as well as those of Weekes and Patricia. “The Battlemaster will not be able to get far before we locate him. He also won’t be able to call for reinforcements, and can’t be picked up without us noticing.”

Saudia looked understandably skeptical. When the nuke launched by Treduant had gone off, no one had initially known what to make of it. However, some of the communications equipment was EMP hardened and they had been able to piece together at least some of the situation. It appeared that the nanoweapon the Battlemaster had brought had been destroyed, and Fectorian’s soldiers had been damaged as well.

With that said, the city itself had reportedly sustained substantial damage and museums, monuments, and government buildings had been targeted. Civilians hadn’t, which was perhaps the only good news to come out of the situation.

Either way, this was not what anyone would consider ‘good’.

 _“Are you sure about that?”_ Saudia demanded. _“Because I’m going to have to give an update, and I can’t exactly cover up the fact that there was a nuclear weapon detonated above D.C. As it is this is hard to portray as a positive, especially as Treduant is dead.”_

“Then don’t,” The Commander interrupted flatly, raising a palm. “This was not just a military target, this was a psychological one. The only intent here was to pacify us and scare us into submission. Don’t hide what happened. _Show it_.” Laura nodded beside him as he continued. “This was an unprovoked attack on not just our government, but on the history and culture of America itself. We still don’t know what we lost, and we haven’t even _mentioned_ the people who have been killed. Use it to make people angry. This was a direct statement that there are no places that are safe from attack. Perhaps we should respond directly in kind.”

 _“And how do you propose we do that?”_ Weekes demanded, his helmet on as he was still on the front lines. _“It’s not like we can hit their own bases, otherwise I agree. We can’t let this go unanswered, and our offensives are already stalling. At best this is going to turn into a sustained siege.”_

“Two options that I can see,” the Commander said. “There are areas that the Collective controls on Earth, primarily Australia and Japan. We detonate nukes over those countries and disrupt them at the very least. If we want to send a more permanent message, we hit them with nukes directly.”

 _“No,”_ Saudia shook her head, scowling. _“I already don’t like that we are using nuclear weapons in the atmosphere. Using them on land is not something I will authorize.”_

“Maybe not on land,” Laura interjected. “But the Commander has a point. I am not going to let this go unanswered. The aliens have escalated this conflict, and if they feel safe attacking our capital cities, than we need to respond in kind. Disrupting their hold on Earth will send that message, even if it won’t permanently destroy them.”

 _“If you do that, it needs to be done now,”_ Patricia added. _“This will only work a few times before they figure out countermeasures. I doubt many aliens even knew about the EMP aspect of nukes. Now they will. Use it before they adapt.”_

“It will take them time, even if they do,” Laura commented. “They can’t exactly overhaul their entire army overnight.”

 _“I’m in agreement with both commanders,”_ Weekes said. _“Let’s exclude the attack on D.C. At least some of us are Americans, and we’re not exactly rational about it. The fact is that D.C. is…was a valid military target. The civilians weren’t harmed. I doubt the Battlemaster cared about anything beyond expressing how much he disliked us having the gall to attack his bases.”_ He finished that sentence with a snort.

His gaze swept around. _“With that said, it doesn’t fucking matter where he attacked. That isn’t an escalation in my opinion. What is an escalation are those nanoweapons. Nanoweapons that are self-replicating. If we aren’t justified in responding appropriately to that, then whoever holds that opinion can go straight to hell. Black out Japan and Australia. Chancellor-“_

 _“I can guess what you’re going to say,”_ Saudia interrupted, looking over at him. _“And yes, research into nanotech is going to be accelerated. We don’t exactly have a choice now. Commander, does XCOM have anything to share on that front?”_

“We’ve been conducting research,” the Commander said. “It is a relatively new area, but we will share what we have learned to help you. But at the moment, we need to focus more on defending against nanotech than weapons of our own. Those will come later.”

“Agreed,” Laura nodded. “Chancellor, with your approval I will prepare our nuclear subs to launch EMP nuclear strikes over the discussed locations. After it has of course been approved by the appropriate divisions.”

Saudia was silent for a few moments. _“Granted,”_ she said. _“I will have Minister Kyong inform China of the impending strike over Japan so they don’t panic when they detect a nuclear launch.”_

“Good idea,” the Commander said. “I’d add every nearby foreign nation to that list. No reason for everyone to suddenly panic.”

 _“If I may offer a suggestion,”_ Weekes interjected, raising a hand. _“We don’t need to use our nuclear subs. India has land-based ICBM capabilities, correct? Why expose our nuclear subs unnecessarily?”_

The Commander exchanged a glance with Laura. “Can India hit Australia? Japan is obviously in range.”

Laura pursed her lips, briefly looking down at her tablet and pressing buttons on it. “Yes,” she finally said. “India has the capability to reach Australia. In fact, North Korea’s nuclear arsenal would be best deployed over Japan. India will target Australia.”

 _“It’s settled then,”_ Saudia looked between Weekes and Laura. _“However, keep several nuclear subs on standby if there are issues.”_

“Certainly,” Laura nodded, setting her lips in a thin line. “But now we need to focus on how to proceed with Sherman.” A holographic map of North America appeared. “We have penetrated Collective territory, but they are holding steady at LA and Sacramento. Hawaii will soon be taken by us, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to hold onto that if they aren’t driven off completely.”

 _“We’re not giving it up now,”_ Weekes practically growled. _“And what exactly is the Collective going to do? Send another fleet to take it back?”_

“I doubt it’s an actual concern for them,” the Commander interrupted. “The bigger issues are that Canada is coming under attack, as is Mexico.”

“Alaska is heating up first,” Laura corrected, pointing at the map. “Anchorage is already coming under attack. There are multiple cities that are also being struck. There aren’t enough soldiers to protect them all. Fairbanks is the only location aside from Anchorage with Gateway support. I’ve diverted several Garrisons who helped in California to there.”

“ _How long can they hold?”_ Saudia asked.

“Anchorage?” Laura paused. “Based on the size of the alien force, they can hold out for a few days, minimum. Fairbanks…that depends on how badly the aliens want it. Even a medium-sized force will probably take it. They aren’t prepared.”

 _“How are Vancouver and Guadalajara holding?”_ Saudia asked.

“Surprisingly well so far,” Laura updated. “The good news is that the aliens don’t seem to know how to handle trench warfare. Even with the defenses half-finished at best, they are holding out extremely well. The bad news is that they’re expanding to strike the less-defended areas. Seattle has just come under attack. Again.”

The sigh that went around the room was almost palpable. At this point there wasn’t much left of Seattle except empty buildings and damaged skyscrapers. There hadn’t been time to even dig the trenches fully yet, much less build Flak Towers. “Portland should prepare for another attack,” the Commander suggested, looking at the map. “It might be best to adapt our strategy in Seattle.”

 _“How?”_ Saudia asked.

The Commander looked to Weekes. “You mentioned one the SFD chiefs specialized in inter-city guerilla warfare tactics, right?”

Weekes snorted. _“By ‘one of the SFD Chiefs” you mean Chief Ranta, yes?”_

“Yes,” the Commander nodded. The Finnish Chief of Hussar Operations Niklas Ranta, formerly a sniper of the Utti Jaeger Regiment, and supposedly one of the best living snipers in the world. These days he had apparently had a more administrative and tactical role, which, combined with his skills, was likely why he’d been chosen to lead the Hussars.

He’d also apparently made himself specialize in urban guerilla tactics, and was a proponent of using more of them in the war, most of which had been temporarily denied. Now though, it was as good a time as any to see how useful they would be in this war. “Commander Christiaens, looking at the numbers, Seattle will not hold out against another sustained assault. Instead of wasting soldiers, we should at least attempt to experiment in weakening the Collective in other ways. Weekes, is he as good as he says?”

 _“Absolutely,”_ Weekes nodded. _“Give him what he needs, and he’ll make Seattle hell for the aliens. Although he’ll likely destroy a lot of the city with it. But he’ll make sure there are dead aliens.”_

“My only concern is that this may be out of his jurisdiction,” Laura warned. “We don’t _have_ a guerilla division-“

 _“Then clear it with Chief Operator Schalit,”_ Weekes interrupted. _“We’re the Special Forces Division for a reason. Asymmetrical warfare is what we do. I’m not going to let ‘jurisdiction’ of all things be a problem.”_

 _“Your point is made, Chief,”_ Saudia interjected. _“Laura, make sure Chief Ranta actually can do what we need before giving him resources. Otherwise, I’m in agreement. If we can’t hold Seattle, we should ensure the aliens die by the thousands to take it.”_

“Patricia,” the Commander looked over to her. _“_ Anything you want to add?”

 _“No,”_ Patricia shook her head. _“Apologies, I’m distracted. The Overmind is directly supporting the aliens, and from what I’ve been able to tell, on every battlefield. I’ve been trying to figure out some way to subvert it, but it’s rendering any kind of offensive telepathy difficult.”_

“Little we can do about that,” the Commander said grimly. “Let us hope he doesn’t turn his abilities against us.”

“In some good news, South Korea is holding steady,” Laura updated, giving a brief smile at that as she turned the map to the respective country. “I don’t know what the aliens were thinking here. They were clearly not expecting this level of defense, or even how to get through them. And they apparently have some kind of homicidal alien that’s shooting at, and I quote, “Whoever the fuck he wants”.”

“Funny.” The Commander honestly wasn’t as concerned with Korea. There were enough defenses there to possibly hold out for half a year against a Battlemaster-level threat, much less the somewhat half-hearted attempt they’d seen so far. “How close are the Garrisons to D.C.?”

“Helicopters are already there,” Laura said. “The main army won’t be far behind. An hour or less.”

The Commander nodded, wondering if that would even be enough. Still, he was trapped behind enemy lines without a way to escape. Contacting Aegis was something that wasn’t exactly…easy to do here, but if there was anyone who might have an idea on how best to capture him, it would be their resident Ethereal.

“Excuse me for a moment,” the Commander said, stepping back. “Call from the Praesidium.”

Laura simply nodded and he stepped out into the hallway and after ensuring the call would be secured, put a call towards the Praesidium. _“Commander?”_ Jackson asked. _“What do you need?”_

“Aegis,” the Commander answered. “I need to speak to him. Concerning the Battlemaster. I assume you’ve been following the developments?”

A pause. _“Yes. We’re lucky Shen had the foresight to harden the more delicate systems of Aegis armor from EMP attacks. Operatives Nira and Tendai retreated, and are alive. They’re trying to locate the Battlemaster and provide location data.”_

Some good news there. He wasn’t surprised he hadn’t been updated yet about their status, as this had happened such a short time ago. “We held Shinobi Cho back, correct? What is the status of Roaring Sky?”

Another pause. _“Crashed. The skyranger was hit by the blast and Roaring Sky had to punch out. MEC Pilot Cho is alive though, and the Shinobi is largely functional, although all the healing nanites were disabled. She is currently protecting Roaring Sky, and is outside D.C at the moment. Should I order her to pursue the Battlemaster?”_

The Commander shook his head. “Negative. Have her get Roaring Sky to safety and regroup with Nira and Tendai, as well as the ADVENT forces. Given how easily the Battlemaster took Knight Team apart, it would be suicide to attack.”

 _“Agreed,”_ she said. _“I’ve got Aegis now.”_

 _“Commander,”_ the voice of the Ethereal greeted. _“I have been appraised of the situation. I would advise your remaining soldiers approach the Battlemaster peacefully. He can be reasoned with, if you are willing to accept his surrender.”_

The Commander gave a humorless chuckle. “How serious are you now, Aegis? Do you really think he would surrender? And that we would do anything except execute him?”

 _“You of all people should understand the tactical usage of similar tactics, and have performed worse than the Battlemaster ever has,”_ Aegis answered flatly. _“So yes, I expect you would. XCOM is not ADVENT. The Battlemaster is an enemy combatant, and if captured, he would be treated well and not turned over to ADVENT who would desire only to execute him.”_

Aegis didn’t hold back. Fair enough. “And what is the problem with that?” The Commander asked. “If we win this war, I don’t see him surviving. I also don’t expect him to surrender.”

 _“If he did,”_ Aegis said slowly. _“Would XCOM hold him as a prisoner of war, one treated well, until the war was decided one way or another and ultimately not turned over to ADVENT? You would also not be bound to inform them of his capture, if you wish to avoid the issue altogether.”_

“What is your plan, Aegis?” The Commander demanded.

 _“Let me speak to him,”_ Aegis said. _“We were friends. I know him better than you. I know that he can be convinced to surrender if he knows escape is impossible. Let me at least attempt this, as there might not be another opportunity. If I succeed, we retain a valuable asset in the coming war, and increase your chances of victory significantly. If I fail, ADVENT still has a chance to kill him.”_

The Commander considered that for a moment. “Fine. Once my soldiers see an opportunity, they will put you in contact with him. However, if the Battlemaster just kills them, their deaths will be on _you_. And I won’t forget it if it happens. Do you understand?”

 _“If they approach peacefully, the Battlemaster will not attack,”_ Aegis assured him. _“But they must follow my instructions. The Battlemaster will not be taking chances now.”_

“Central, did you get that?” The Commander asked Jackson.

 _“Yes, Commander,_ ” Jackson confirmed. _“I’ll patch Aegis into their comms as soon as possible and give their orders. For the record Aegis, I’m not expecting this to work.”_

 _“Truthfully, neither am I,”_ Aegis admitted. _“But I will at least make the effort. He deserves that much. He is ultimately not your enemy here. He is only following the directive of the Imperator.”_

“Directive or not, he’s still the enemy,” the Commander grunted. “But good luck, Aegis. Hopefully he’ll listen to you. Commander out.” He tapped his headset and ended the call, before turning to head back to the Situation Room.

Depending on how things went, this day could potentially get a lot more interesting.

***

_Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit_

_11/22/2016 – 2:11 A.M._

This entire operation was not exactly going, as Ravarian would put it, _well_.

Not just because everyone seemed to be forgetting that he _wasn’t_ an actual military leader. He was the Zar’Chon, but no one actually bothered to think if the head of the Collective’s Intelligence organization was actually qualified to make military decisions. He was certainly knowledgeable on the subject, and could offer certain insights from the perspective of an intelligence operative.

But he wasn’t the Battlemaster, nor from the Runianarch, Lurainian, or Federation Military for that matter. He was, unfortunately, the highest ranking Collective officer in the Solar System, and thus, he was having to make decisions outside his comfort zone.

And as such was the immediate target for being yelled at by, admittedly, justifiably furious commanders.

 _“What do you mean ‘you can’t do anything’?”_ Runi’callista’vitiary, the Collective Commander in charge of the Korea invasion demanded. _“I am losing soldiers to some crazed traitor! Where is the Battlemaster?!”_

“The Battlemaster is currently fighting,” Ravarian answered calmly, knowing there was little he could do to lessen the anger of the Borelian. And technically, it wasn’t a lie. He was very sure the Battlemaster was in combat. “I’ve attempted to pull the Hunter back, but he…ah…isn’t responding.”

 _“You’re Zararch,”_ Callista growled, stepping forward. If she hadn’t been a hologram, Ravarian might have been concerned for his own safety. _“If you can’t order him back, I want your snipers to kill him.”_

From what little Ravarian knew of the Hunter, that was probably not going to work. “Do you have a location? Snipers aren’t good without targets.”

 _“No, I don’t,”_ Callista snapped. _“So I’m stuck with a trigger happy traitor sniper? Is that what you’re saying?”_

Ravarian paused briefly. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m overseeing and providing logistical support to a half-dozen major operations at this time. Every Ethereal I know is indisposed. I’m afraid I can’t help you now, I’m sorry.”

Callista raised one finger at him. _“I’m keeping a list of every soldier that’s died because of your incompetence. And anyone else who put this traitor on this mission. If this problem isn’t solved soon, I will ensure that the Aui’Vitakar hear the full extent of your failure. And don’t even think of trying to cover this up, as I know you are.”_

The hologram was abruptly shut off.

This was a problem.

He was honestly surprised the Hunter had actually been this much of an issue. He had easily been identified as insubordinate, but Ravarian would have never guessed him to be a traitor. Now he was directly threatening the peace on Vitakar. He sighed, activating the holodisplay in his hand, and quickly navigated to the list of Collective commanders.

This was a problem for the Battlemaster to solve, once he was recovered. Callista would calm down when he returned. But for now, a communications restriction was needed. For the remainder of this operation, she would not be able to communicate outside the Solar System, despite her threats. As much as Borelians were fearless, they were not always the most intelligent, especially in fits of anger.

However, her anger was justified so she wouldn’t be removed for now. It would be ironic, but helpful if she was in the Hunter’s sights at some point.

Actually no it wouldn’t. It would just be further evidence of the need to execute the Hunter, which there frankly didn’t need to be more of.

He did not like being so visible in the Collective. Quisilia was off in Australia, the Battlemaster was fighting somewhere in D.C. while they were still trying to determine his location, and both Guardians had left for unknown reasons. At least the Second Guardian had said she was going to assist in the operations in Canada. The First Guardian had just disappeared.

Typical.

Typical, frustrating, and annoying Ethereals who couldn’t be bothered to put a cohesive plan together. Oh no, each of them had to do their own thing and not tell _anyone_ else about it, because each Ethereal was always on a top secret mission and didn’t have time to inform the mere Zar’Chon about where they’d be and what they’d be doing. No, that information was _certainly_ useless to him.

Ethereals may be immortal gods wielding psionic energies to destroy entire armies, but they were exceptionally _bad_ leaders. The only ones who seemed to have any sort of idea how to _work_ with aliens were Quisilia and the Battlemaster. The others obviously could care less.

It was part of the reason he hadn’t contacted Caelior about possible assistance. There was a greater possibility that he’d get his neck snapped than the young, arrogant alien actually listening to what he had to say. He could imagine how the conversation would go:

_“Elder Caelior, if it would be possible, would you lend your assistance in an operation to extract the Battlemaster-“_

_“What? Has your incompetence put him in danger? I will not work with such a failure as you!”_

_And in a fit of juvenile rage, Caelior snapped the Zar’Chon’s neck._

Ravarian grimaced, feeling an overwhelming sense of frustration. The _Sargon_ of all things was more helpful than any Ethereal. More polite too, for that matter. He was quite sure Quisilia would be reading his mind after this, and frankly, he didn’t care right now. If one thing had become apparent over this conflict, it was that most of the Ethereals, the Battlemaster and Quisilia excluded, had no idea how to run the Collective they supposedly led, much less interact with aliens they obviously saw as lesser.

It turned out that war revealed the nature of beings much better than words and propaganda ever could.

He doubted Quisilia would execute him. Maybe thinking this had crossed a line though. But was it _really_ a crime to accuse Ethereals of (in his mind) incompetence if it was true?

While the Battlemaster had his faults, he was actually someone he could respect. Quisilia too. Not the absent Imperator or any other arrogant Ethereal. No, this was not something he was going to tolerate any longer. Once this conflict was resolved, he was going to make major revisions to the Zararch and how they interacted with the Collective.

If the Ethereals didn’t like it, they could kill him, but he was going to reexamine certain rules and guidelines given by the Ethereals and determine their merit. If they had a problem with it, they could speak to him in person.

He felt something rub up against his leg, and unconsciously bent down and picked up Cali’Zar’Chon, who had grown quite a bit over the past few months. It was nice to hold it while considering various tactics on holodisplays; a surprisingly good stress relief. A few of the analysts had given him some odd looks when he’d brought it out the first time, but everyone had gotten used to it.

Some of them had seemingly given jealous looks too. Over a cat of all things.

Maybe he should bring in several cats to wander around and provide moral support to his staff. The little furballs did have their uses, it turned out. Apparently dogs had a similar effect. Maybe he could run a secondary experiment on which one was better.

Something for later when he wasn’t as stressed.

 _“Zar’Chon,”_ Disciple-7 said into his earpiece. _“We believe we have intercepted communications displaying the location of the Battlemaster. I am beginning to put together an extraction team.”_

A competent subordinate that communicated things. Amazing. “Excellent,” he said, moving to walk back to the main hub. “I’m on my way down to assist.”

***

_The Island of Hawai’i - Hawaii_

_Operation: Kamehameha – Day 2_

_11/22/2016 – 8:32 A.M._

Sleep was somewhat fleeting for Sierra, but now that several of the major islands, including Hawai’i were taken, they had gotten a little bit of downtime while the rest of ADVENT kept the pressure on the alien strongholds. So she’d gotten some food and a few hours of sleep, and right now was doing some socialization with several ADVENT soldiers before heading back out to battle.

“Did you see anything through that Gateway?” Peter Hale, one of the regular soldiers asked. He was about the same age as her, if a bit more chipper than she was. He’d said he was originally from California, which clearly gave him a more personal stake in what was happening.

“Nope, just purple,” Sierra answered, shaking her head and pushing around her morning rations before finally deciding to just eat it. ADVENT rations were definitely not as good as what XCOM had. At least for now she’d have to get used to more bland military food. At least it wasn’t _bad_.

None of them were wearing armor, obviously, the ADVENT soldiers were wearing their standard fatigues, and she and the other Archangel pilots had a more sleek undersuit as even normal clothing would be too bulky. There were some more regular clothes, but considering they would be leaving in…she glanced over to the clock…roughly a half-hour, she hadn’t thought it was worth it.

The price of that was that the suit was…rather tight and not exactly what Sierra would consider _modest_. It had been somewhat amusing to see some of guys being very unsubtle in checking her, and Anna for that matter, out, while the others kind of just tried to look everywhere but _at_ her. However, being an Archangel came with certain expectations, and people kept their distance.

“So how are the suits piloted?” Dianne, a soldier from Florida asked, sipping from her plastic cup. “You just angle your body? You’re not handling levers I assume?”

“Not quite,” Sierra explained, setting down her food briefly and standing. “Yes, angles help and direct us. But how those are controlled is through a…kind of neural implant.” She reached back and pushed her hair off her neck and turned slightly to give them a look at the implant in it. “Don’t ask me how it works, but from my understanding it reads certain brain patterns associated with actions. Essentially this allows us to control propulsion, weapons, speed, all with our minds.”

“Wait…” Dianne frowned. “You’re plugged _into_ the suit?”

She exchanged a glanced with Anna. “Yes…” Anna said after a pause. “I think that’s accurate.”

Some of the soldiers looked visibly uncomfortable. “Just through that one implant?” A soldier she didn’t recognize asked. “Or are there others?”

“A couple,” Sierra recalled. “There are two that line the spine, and two more just above the joints of the arms and legs. Improves speed so I’m told. It doesn’t hurt either, if you’re curious.”

“These definitely were,” Ted chimed in from the corner, a smirk on his face. The psion had largely kept out of the conversation, and she could tell he was still tired. He had the arms of his undersuit unzipped and was lightly spraying them with a Medkit as more of a preventative screen than to actually heal them.

Psionics really did take a major toll on their bodies. When he’d taken off the suit his arms had been literally ripped and it looked like an entire layer of skin was gone. How he’d still been walking around with not much more than a grimace was something she didn’t know. She knew that Offensive Psions did have the Biomuscular Regen modification, but that seemed to function more as a way to ensure that the psion wasn’t rendered useless after a few displays of power.

“Hey, don’t scare them,” Anna chided lightly. “They’re still getting used to psions.”

“Don’t worry,” Ted reassured them. “I can’t read your mind, just pick up on certain emotions.” He raised a hand. “I’m better at killing aliens.”

“All of you seem to be,” Peter noted. “Although since you’re from XCOM…”

Sierra chuckled, thinking of the ironic fact that they were housing quite a few aliens themselves. “You have no idea.”

“Are you all from America?” Another soldier asked, cocking her head their direction. “You don’t have accents.”

“Yep, born and raised in Florida,” Sierra said.

Ted shot her a suspicious look. “I would not have guessed that.”

Sierra rolled her eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, not everyone from the South has a so-called southern accent.”

“Montana for me,” Ted added. “Don’t have anything to add beyond that. No psychic powers as a kid either.”

“Anna?” Sierra prompted.

“I came with my family from Ukraine,” Anna shrugged. “Lived in Vermont once we settled. Nothing more interesting beyond that.”

Huh, she hadn’t known that about her. Sierra had just assumed she’d grown up American from birth. Despite what Anna said, there was probably some story there, but that was for later when the aliens were gone. Her earpiece buzzed, indicating that they needed to get ready. “Nice chatting with you all,” Sierra said, giving a little wave. “But duty calls. See you all out there.”

“If you die, can I get your suit?” Someone called, to several scattered chuckles.

“No!” Sierra called back, then paused. “Actually, sure! But only if you record your face when the suit skewers you where the implants are supposed to be.”

“Never mind then!”

Sierra smirked and followed the other Archangels out, getting her thoughts organized for the battle ahead.

***

_Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_11/21/2016 – 10:29 P.M._

The helicopters wasted no time in opening fire on him.

The Battlemaster had chosen to make the first battle along the Reflecting Pool, as it was an open space that would provide plenty of maneuverability. Gauss machine guns spat slugs from the air as they attempted to circle around him, in a vain attempt to keep him in one single place. There were six in the air currently.

Too many.

The Battlemaster lifted one fist into the air and enveloped himself in a telekinetic field that stopped all the projectiles instantly. With his free hands he reached towards two helicopters and clenched his fists, crumpling the rotors and blades that allowed the machines to levitate. But all things had their weaknesses, machines included.

Soldiers were marching in the distance, and guns were already being fired at him from the ground. The air turned purple as he transitioned into a charge and dashed forward as the helicopters began falling to the ground. With a free hand, the Battlemaster reached towards one turning to let its gun fire on him, and telekinetically grasped it.

He directed the machine into a nearby one, and although it was clumsy and required a brief amount of effort, he was successful and the two machines connected. Teams of ADVENT soldiers were now taking positions, especially gunners who were unloading their gauss autorifles into him. He simply transitioned into a psionic dash and performed several quick zig-zags towards the line.

“Hold him!” One of the soldiers screamed, and the Battlemaster belatedly noticed that there were the distinctive ADVENT Priests in the reinforcements.

So this might be a pleasant initial challenge.

He then paused as he suddenly realized that there was quite literally an army heading towards him. He was on the latter end of the reflecting pool, and everywhere from the Washington monument backwards had entire squads of ADVENT soldiers, with healthy mixes of Gunners, Snipers, Rocketeers, and Priests.

MDUs also dotted the army, and several of the ADVENT soldiers had the small SHIV machines. There were also the Lancers, and many ADVENT Special Forces units leading the charge behind the initial sacrifice.

This was potentially a problem. It was one thing to fight soldiers, but now that psions were involved, and the army more diverse, it was more difficult. No holding back today.

The Priests were extending hands his way, and he felt the iron grip of telekinesis wrap around his legs and quickly threw a hand forward, blowing back the soldiers immediately in front of him and transitioning into a psionic charge. While not lethal, it disrupted the hold on him and he was free. One swipe slaughtered a swath of soldiers, while his free hands were clenched fists that similarly found targets.

The armor of ADVENT did not protect fully against the steel of his armor, and soldiers went flying or stumbling backwards when hit by him. The Battlemaster twisted one lower hand violently and all soldiers within his hastily constructed telekinetic field were twisted around. Some bones snapped, some were bent in two; all were disrupted.

The Battlemaster slashed down at a Priest and cleaved through her armor with relative ease, the force crumpling her body to the ground. Gauss fire became a melody to him as it flew around and bounced off his armor. One hand slammed to the ground, sending a telekinetic shockwave that unbalanced everyone around him.

He psionically dashed forward and spun in a complete circle within the blink of an eye killing all the ADVENT soldiers around him; the now-headless corpses collapsing to the ground. Without pausing he began cutting his way through the ADVENT soldiers as they desperately tried to contain him, but they had never faced the unrelenting strength that was a Battlemaster unleashed.

Armor was punctured by metal; skin and bone were crushed under a telekinetic grip; time was a commodity that was not allowed, as the Battlemaster moved too quickly, and targeted the vital soldiers in the army to remove possible threats. The Priests he killed barely had time to shout before their heads exploded, necks snapped, or they were thrown straight up into the air.

The soldiers within the range of his sword fared even worse. They were short enough to be like fighting children with how little they could withstand his strikes. His free hands picked up and threw, slammed, or mutilated them with ruthless abandon. The air around him became tainted with the smell of blood and discharged weapons.

The MDUs and machines assisting them were turned on their own with simple applications of telekinesis. The bipedal machines were compressed into balls of metal and thrown into more soldiers, while the little SHIVs were stomped underfoot. The iron skin of the Lancers did little good as they were drawn to his hand and slammed onto a knee or the hard concrete, leaving them as broken wrecks.

Yet it was exhilarating.

Two Priests attempted to coordinate in the chaos, one shooting streams of psionic energy at him, while another telekine attempted to hold him in place. The Battlemaster telekinetically raised the second psion, crushed him and tossed the broken corpse away, before psionically dashing towards the first psion and decapitating him with a single strike.

Three MDUs stood before him then, their laser weapons already lighting up and with an upwards swipe one was destroyed, while his two lower hands grasped the machines and clenched them into fists. The white bipeds crumpled into balls, and a stab into the center of the standing MDU shut the machine off for good.

Time had essentially stopped for him, caught up as he was in the battle and seemingly massive army he was caught in the middle of. Soldier after soldier died to him; none had time to even escape his reach, much less strategize or prepare. Every strike was a deathblow. Every motion a death sentence. Each motion; every move the Battlemaster made involved the death of another.

Even as he cut down a trio of ADVENT he was already taking in the immediate soldiers around him; the next sword stroke, telekinetic grip, and psionic dash already being calculated. Multitasking was one of the first things taught to potential Battlemasters; how to effectively manage large groups of enemies in close proximity to each other.

He had to not only be cognizant of the threats themselves, but thinking three steps ahead every second. It had been difficult to fully visualize at first, but with thousands of hours of training, the War against the Synthesized, and countless more hours in the Prism, it was second nature to him, but admittedly something he hadn’t allowed himself to be immersed in for a long time.

One soldier was slammed to the ground by his hand; a swipe of his sword killed another Priest; his other two hands crushed an MDU and blasted back a squad of ADVENT soldiers. All simultaneously; all within moments of each other; and already he was moving to the next targets.

A stab to kill an MDU. A SHIV crushed underfoot. The screams of ten soldiers lifted and then bent in two, then throwing their broken bodies at their comrades. Sprays of blood and bone adding red layers to his armor from each punch and sword slash. Over and over; on and on; a battle that seemed like there would be no end.

And then everything went silent.

The Battlemaster deliberately pulled himself out of the trance he’d fallen into and observed the carnage around him. Wrecked helicopters, faint sobbing and screams of the mortally wounded soldiers, and corpses covering the ground around the entire Reflection Pool, with some floating in the water itself.

MDU and SHIV wrecks sparked and smoked intermittently, and the ground was stained with blood, soot, and metal. The Battlemaster quickly reviewed his own status. His armor was coated and splattered with blood, the gauntlets were a deep red, as was his sword. His cloak was ripped, burned and torn, and even the armor had suffered small dents.

Still, the effort had tired him. He was fully capable of falling back into the trance, but he would eventually become sloppy, and those would not be the last soldiers ADVENT sent. He needed to keep moving, maybe go to somewhere they wouldn’t immediately expect. He had memorized the basic layout of the city, and knew a place he would have a brief reprieve.

With that decided, he began the march towards Arlington, knowing that if the Warlock was still around, he would most likely be in that area. Much as he had derided the Chosen as a tool, they would stand a better chance of surviving together than alone.

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_11/22/2016 – 5:18 P.M._

Duri had never even known that it was possible for an alien to talk as much as the Hunter did.

The battle had persisted for over twelve hours straight now, and the Hunter had essentially been providing live commentary throughout the entire thing. If he hadn’t been a terrifyingly effective sniper, making shots that no one could begin to guess at how they’d been pulled off, Duri would have found it hilarious.

Even more so since the Hunter had also not stopped the trend of shooting his own side.

 _“Sectopods,”_ the Hunter was musing now. _“I’ve always wondered what the Sectoids were thinking when they made them. Not a bad idea, but far too easy to outmaneuver.”_

“He is _not_ seriously going to do what I think he is,” Beatriz said flatly, looking through her scope. “No fucking way.”

 _“Oh, but I am, ADVENT sniper number one-hundred and two, or whoever the fuck you are,”_ the Hunter chided mockingly, making Beatriz immediately duck under the firing slit as if she was afraid of a sniper bolt hitting her. That was another thing he’d been doing. He’d occasionally address soldiers at random. He didn’t seem to know the names thankfully, so he called them random numbers.

It was a bit unsettling though. No one knew how he was still in their network, although Miguel said he was probably spoofing their network with stolen ADVENT proxies. Whatever that meant. Duri wasn’t a computer guy, much less a network guy, so he’d taken the engineer at his word.

“You are _not_ going to be able to make the shot,” Beatriz muttered. “I don’t care how bullshit your sniper rifle is.”

 _“Watch and learn, little human,”_ the Hunter chuckled. _“And I don’t blame you. I’m much better than you’ll ever be.”_

The curiosity apparently got the better of her, and Beatriz propped her sniper rifle back up and peered through it. The aliens had managed to erect some form of barricade in the no man’s land, but it was extremely far away as to be ineffective, and the area had already been besieged with artillery, although they had also deployed scattered Andromedon shields to provide some protection.

Behind the lines there were the clear outlines of Sectopods and Cyberdisks. Ironically, the latter had proven to be little more than floating targets as they didn’t have the range to actually move forward without being shot out of the sky. Not only did they have to worry about the hail of gauss fire from the ground, but also the Flak Towers which had shot down a few more additional spacecraft that had been foolish enough to get too close.

“Cara! Setting ammo behind you!” Miguel told her, tapping the elevated turret ground she was standing on. “Anyone else need reloads?”

“Three more mags and I’ll be set for a while!” A nearby soldier called out, and a few more voices added to that. Miguel made a hasty note on a pad and dashed off to get the ammo. All of them had adjusted to the trenches fairly well, more so than Duri had expected. Miguel kept all of them supplied with ammo, and Nobuatsu had kept them well-hydrated and fed.

Although right now he was assisting several soldiers who’d been shot nearby by stray Collective plasma. Even they had to hit something.

For his part, he’d felt somewhat useless, as he couldn’t really aim at anything with an acceptable degree of precision. Only Beatriz had any kind of accuracy, and Cara with her Browning could inflict damage reliably. He was mostly relegated to directing fire and keeping everyone in line. He’d instructed Mana and Aleksandra to hold their fire unless they could actually aim for something. Otherwise he’d occasionally had them relieve Nobuatsu and Miguel.

Beatriz had kept him updated on what the Collective was doing on their lines, and occasionally asking what she should be targeting. He really needed binoculars, and had requested some but they had yet to actually come. But she was doing a good job illustrating the battlefield, so he didn’t feel too hampered.

Cara meanwhile had seemed to be having far too much fun with her gun. She was exceptionally good with it, and had audibly taken great pleasure in ripping the initial alien charge apart, and more recently overwhelming Andromedon shielding and cutting through Cyberdisks.

The biggest threat they now faced were the Sectopods, which were visible monoliths in the distance that were growing ever-closer. They were at the alien line now, but it looked like they weren’t in range yet to actually begin firing. The Collective had also begun firing at them, but their aiming was just as bad as ADVENT’s own. If they had their own snipers, they had yet to show them.

“They’ve got the Andromedon shield back up,” Beatriz reported, and Duri saw a square of red light up in the distance. As it was still night, the line itself was rather hard to see.

“Enemy composition the same?”

“Mutons and Borelians,” Beatriz confirmed. “Sectopods behind them. They’ve got some kind of support soldiers helping their wounded.”

Tactically, it would probably have been a good idea to have her target the support soldiers. But there were some things that shouldn’t be done, and attacking medics was one of them. Maybe a bit old-fashioned for ADVENT, but he would prefer their own medics not be attacked, so he would allow them the same courtesy.

That didn’t apply to their tools though. “Hit the Borelians if you can,” he instructed. “Cara! The shield is back up!”

“I see it!” She yelled, chuckling as she began unloading onto the shield in the distance. “I’ll take it down again!”

If Duri recalled right, if she did it, it would be the third time so far that shield had been erected, and then overloaded. In general the Andromedon shielding only lasted until someone in the trenches noticed, realized that no one was firing on it, and then had their gunners focus-fire it. They clearly didn’t have the infrastructure to properly power any equipment they had.

“Sectopods are moving forward,” Beatriz updated in between shots. “Got one Borelian too.”

“Good shot,” he patted her shoulder and activated his squad channel. “Alright everyone! Ready positions! We’ve got Sectopods coming in!”

“About time I do something,” Aleksandra stated, coming up beside him and readying her rifle. “Boring combat otherwise.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mana chided as he took a similar position beside her. “Personally, I prefer battles where my chance of dying is low.”

“Focus!” Duri chided as the ground rocked as missiles suddenly shot from the two dozen Sectopods, right from the back of the primary ‘pod’. The streaks in the air looked intimidating and were angling down towards the ADVENT line, and it was at an angle that none of them had a good shot at it.

From behind him he heard the pounding of one of the THAAD and Flak Tower defense systems, and sniper fire from the Hussars accompanying it. At the same time, various points along the trenches were encased in a purple bubble, likely from the supporting Priests anticipating where the missile strikes would be.

Several of the missiles exploded in a burst of green fire, but many streaked down towards the ADVENT line and hit with explosions that shook the ground. Most of those hit the psionic shields created by the Priests, but several hit the lines themselves with the accompanying screams of pain. One directly hit a Flak Tower a short distance away, destroying most of the rooftop weaponry and setting it ablaze.

“Going to help,” Nobuatsu updated and dashed away. Duri simply nodded and began focusing on the advancing Sectopod in the distance.

 _“Wow, amazing, the supposedly superior side actually hit something,”_ the Hunter commented. _“I was beginning to wonder if they were all incompetent, or if I’m just stuck with an inferior bunch.”_ A pause. _“Alright, for what I’m going to be doing next, I’m going to require a few volunteers. Anyone want to sacrifice themselves for the good of humanity?”_

“Oh, that’s not good,” Duri breathed. “Everyone get down until he…does whatever he’s going to do!”

Because the alien lunatic was clearly planning to kill some number of them. _“Clever, little Officer,”_ the Hunter chuckled as the soldier next to him suddenly slumped forward, most of his head gone and showering his nearby comrade with blood. _“Just for that, I’m not going to shoot any of your squad. However, medics always annoyed me.”_ A few shots rang out. _“Nothing more irritating than shooting something and an idiot medic saving them. Kill stealer.”_

 _“He-he just shot the soldier I was patching up!”_ Nobuatsu stuttered, sounding completely shaken and terrified. _“Right in front of me! The other one who survived is dead too!”_

Duri scowled. “Coward,” he swore. “At least go after something that actually gives you a challenge.”

 _“Oh, shut up,”_ the Hunter drawled. _“I’d argue that hitting those damn Humans without scratching your precious medics was challenging enough. Why do you care anyway, not like you knew them?”_

He opened his mouth to spit something out, but felt Cara grip his arm and could easily image her shaking head. “Don’t let the alien goad you, Duri. Let’s blow up their little army.”

 _“Duri, then,”_ the Hunter chuckled. _“Listen to your less intelligent friend. Blow up the Sectopods, be a good little soldier. Leave the moralizing to others.”_ Another series of shots, though these were towards the alien line. _“Everyone is equally worthy to die out here today,”_ the Hunter continued. _“And ultimately, none of you actually matter. The ones who do aren’t here. Die or not, the galaxy will continue on without you.”_

“Get this alien out of comms,” Aleksandra spat. “Ignore. Kill Sectopods.”

And that was what ADVENT was not doing. White-orange streaks of gauss and Browning fire were fired towards the alien machines, which were seemingly able to take it all. The artillery booming behind them though signaled that was possibly going to change. Plasma guns popped out of the top of the Sectopod center pods, and began firing at the ADVENT line.

No-man’s land lit up with artillery shelling and rocket bombardment. Several Sectopods stepped on mines which blew apart their clawed feet, and sent one tumbling to the ground. Several stumbled and exploded as the shelling took out their more delicate systems. Others weren’t heavily affected and only suffered superficial damage.

The centers of the pods began opening up, revealing a glowing red center that was getting more intense. “Aim for the center!” Duri roared, aiming his own rifle as best he could at the machine. Then the Sectopod suddenly stuttered, and the pod exploded, blowing into nearby Sectopods and unbalancing them. Another explosion followed suit; then another.

 _“Now that’s what I call a finale,”_ the Hunter stated, humming a tune. _“You’re welcome, Humans. I’ve wanted to blow up those things for ages.”_

“He didn’t get all of them,” Beatriz said, even as ADVENT did manage to take out a few more of the Sectopods. However, a couple did manage to unleash their main laser cannon which was not aimed at the trenches, but at the Flak Towers and artillery behind. One tower exploded and began falling apart; multiple pieces of artillery blew up in the distance as the red laser struck them.

Still, all in all, the majority had been destroyed.

But as useful as the Hunter was, Duri would have preferred he just not interfere at all instead of treating all of this as some kind of game.

There was enough to worry about without a mocking alien on top of it.

***

_Sydney Outskirts – Australia_

_11/21/2016 – 12:13 P.M._

The fight through Sydney had led to Abby seeing the sheer destructive power the Chronicler had at his disposal. His soldiers now stayed a fair ways back, although even they were being affected by his ever-growing fury at the aliens facing him. The very air cracked and splintered around the Chronicler, and his psionics had turned lighter, until there were flickers of blue in them.

Psionic energy enveloped the Chronicler, and no alien could stand against him.

Those that tried were blasted into pulp by purple circular blasts that threw the destroyed being back, or they were compressed into broken balls of bone and flesh. Despite being a medic and having a high tolerance for bodily damage, it was disturbing even to her. And now the Chronicler was taking random aliens and drawing out their deaths to presumably make a point.

 _“Do not hide, Quisilia!”_ He roared, standing in the middle of a now-torn street, a dozen various kinds of Vitakarians lying on the ground, one of his hands raised over them as he methodically snapped their bones one by one. _“I will rip this city apart, Elder!”_

Abby was watching from a distance as usual, keeping to the rooftops. She pursed her lips and considered just killing the aliens as she suspected this wasn’t going to make Quisilia do anything. Pain for the sake of it was pointless, but she felt disrupting the Chronicler now was…dangerous. He wasn’t acting like he normally was.

“So uncivilized,” Quisilia chided from right behind her again. “Fine then puppet, let’s see if you really want to fight me.”

Before Abby could even turn, she caught a glimpse of the Ethereal as he vanished and reappeared down at the edge of the Chronicler’s force. He held some kind of blade in each of his hands and slashed and stabbed simultaneously, and within a few seconds a half-dozen of the Chronicler’s aliens were dead. The Chronicler immediately materialized next to the alien, a purple hissing blade of psionic energy in his hand, which slammed into a small psionic shield Quisilia had summoned.

 _“You made a mistake coming here, Elder One,”_ the Chronicler growled as his aliens began raising their weapons and he stabbed forward with another psionic blade which Quisilia also deflected. _“You don’t want to challenge me.”_

“Do I now?” Quisilia answered lightly, tossing some kind of grenades with his free hands towards the traitor aliens around him. Nanites spewed out of them and began filling the suits of the aliens. Abby also saw two black figures coming forward, red lines down their face. Some kind of mechanical unit she hadn’t seen before.

The Chronicler blew Quisilia back with a psionic blast, and the blades dissipated right before he brought them forward to form a shockwave that straight-up collapsed the building behind Quisilia. It unfortunately didn’t hit the Ethereal, as he vanished from sight only to materialize behind the Chronicler who met him a reformed psionic blade.

“I’m curious,” Quisilia mused almost mockingly as they began dueling more conventionally. The nanites were eating through his alien force, and it turned out those figures were also made up of nanites who were engaging Harper and his soldiers. “You are quite weak for a puppet. Disappointing. No wonder you’ve done nothing for generations.”

 _“Enough!”_ The Chronicler pushed Quisilia away, and raised his left hand into a clenched fist, picking up the Ethereal and slamming him into a nearby building with enough force to crack the foundation. Except when the form of Quisilia fell to the ground it dissipated, and the Ethereal stepped out of this air.

“How very impressive,” he chided. “I would have thought a puppet would be able to tell the difference between an illusion and the real thing. But I suppose you are too blunt for that kind of-“

He was forced to vanish as the Chronicler sent a blue-tinged psionic wave at the Ethereal that tore right through the buildings and caused them to begin crumbling to pieces. Quisilia reappeared a few feet away from his original position. “Now, as I was saying-“

 _“Be silent, Elder One,”_ the Chronicler snarled, and Abby realized that his voice was no longer his own. It was like a groaning giant, slow, ancient, methodical; like a monster that had just been woken. The Chronicler was no longer surrounded by purple energy, but that which was a bright blue. The air felt charged with… _something_ Abby couldn’t describe.

It felt as though something dangerous was now here; something old. Everything suddenly felt oppressive and like she was moving through molasses. Quisilia was suddenly trapped in a perfect cube and lifted into the air. While the Ethereal tapped on the blue wall, the Chronicler spoke.

 _“He warned you not to make him angry,”_ the thing speaking through the Chronicler said. _“Now you will die, Elder One. Die as your brethren did to the Replicators.”_

“Curious,” Quisilia didn’t seem particularly concerned, even as the walls were closing in on him. “That wasn’t what we called them.” Quisilia made a motion, and froze. The Chronicler chuckled.

 _“Did you really think I would let you simply step through a portal of your making?”_ He mocked, completing the reversal of fortune. _“You are a child in this galaxy, as is your mastery of it.”_

“And you are as arrogant as your brethren, Sovereign One,” Quisilia answered. Gesturing down and the Chronicler suddenly vanished into a shimmer in the ground, although he burst up again from another opening he had likely created. But it was enough to loosen his concentration and allow Quisilia to vanish from the cracked blue cage.

Abby didn’t see where he went, but the Chronicler turned his attention to the nanites that were slowly destroying his army. The air around his army suddenly charged with lighting-like blue strikes that hit the nanites themselves, while not hurting the soldiers. One of the black figures was suddenly alight in blue lightning and fell to dust.

Four Quisilias suddenly stepped out beside the Chronicler, their movements mirroring each other as he reached for another strange bladed weapon. “You are powerful, Sovereign One,” Quisilia chided as he struck down, only to be met with the Chronicler shielding himself in a blue psionic shell. “But that is all you have.”

The Chronicler squeezed a fist and the Quisilias were suddenly levitated into the air, and began to be compressed. Abby didn’t think he was actually there, but it was still mildly concerning to see a perfect replication of an Ethereal being crushed like a toy. _“Who does your species serve?”_ The Chronicler hissed. _“Lacesseran? The Black Fleet? Exspirant? The Bringer?”_ A sharp hiss. _“The Leviathan?”_

Abby didn’t know what he was possibly referring to, but she suddenly knew that whatever the Chronicler was caught up in, it was much, _much_ larger than what they could imagine. Whatever was happening, it did _not_ seem like a good idea to stay around. Maybe Quisilia knew what he was talking about, but she certainly didn’t, and she actually assumed that the armor she was wearing…that all of them were…it came from whoever was speaking now.

The Quisilias all dissipated, and another one stepped out in front of the Chronicler. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” He asked. “Interesting. That narrows down the list of...names.”

 _“You will answer the question,”_ the Chronicler stated, pointing a finger at the alien. _“Or I will take you back with me and tear the knowledge from your mind. You cannot resist forever.”_

“Then find me, Sovereign One!” Quisilia taunted, giving a wave before he vanished.

 _“Run, Elder One,”_ the Chronicler taunted back, lifting a hand and the air in the distance flickered with blue sparks and rifts. _“I do not tire. I do not die. I will crush this city and drive you away or kill you. Run back to your master, puppet. This species is mine!”_

Oh fuck.

Oh no.

The air in front of her became a blue charged maelstrom that roared more powerful than a hurricane and collapsed down on the buildings below it, shredding them into small chunks of rock within seconds. The Chronicler ceased the maelstrom a few seconds later, leaving a massive section of the city reduced to rubble.

Abby instinctively ducked down as the Chronicler and what remained of his army marched forward. But they thankfully didn’t seem to care about her anymore, which was a massive relief.

There was the slight problem of being stuck here, but she needed to at least stay and watch who would win. She wasn’t getting out of here right now, and the Commander needed to know what was happening here.

***

_Sacramento, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 2_

_11/22/2016 – 5:17 A.M._

“Here,” Nuan said and handed Iosif a bottle of water. The disheveled Templar gratefully took the water and gulped it down.

“Thanks,” he told her earnestly. “Gonna need it since Geist will want me back maintaining the barricade in…” he paused for a moment. “Probably pretty soon.”

Nuan grimaced. “That barricade isn’t necessary. He’s going to kill our psions if he makes them maintain it another day.”

“We’ll see, we’re still alive in the same blasted spot we were in before,” Iosif shrugged, looking exhausted. “Considering how outgunned and outnumbered we are, I’d say that’s not bad.”

Nuan had to admit that the only reason they were still here and not retreating was because of the iron will of Geist who had stated in no uncertain terms that they were not going to give up _any_ ground whatsoever. To this end he had organized the available psions and effectively taken command of the several hundred man army.

It would be unfair to say it had been a unilateral takeover, as he had gathered up the ranking Lancer, Hussar, Cuirassier, Dragoon, and Protopriests, as well as the highest-ranking officers to form a makeshift strategy team of sorts. He’d apparently had a spat with the Chief Marshal of the operation, Theresa Lambert who had apparently been shocked that they had still held their position, which was presumably much deeper than any other one.

She’d ordered them to fall back for their own safety, and Geist had flatly refused. Chief Marshal Lambert had apparently been placated when several of the Officers had offered support for Geist, and once the plan was explained, she’d tentatively allowed it to move forward. That had been the last of her protests, and Geist had begun turning their position into an unbreakable fortress.

The most important aspect of this consisted of the massive psionic barrier between them and the aliens. It had sustained a relentless pounding, but Geist had every single Defense-oriented Priest taking part in forming the barricade and sustaining it. He’d then had the Officers have their Engineers begin erecting defenses.

Since the offensive-oriented psions were not in a good position to help, he’d ordered them to assist the Engineers in constructing the barricades by using their corrosive and destructive powers to weaken concrete, metal, and stone. The telekines had also similarly assisted, moving heavy debris out of the way, or creating temporary cover themselves.

The telepaths had been ordered to mentally sustain the psions erecting the barrier. Geist himself had gone into some kind of trance to, as he had explained, ‘keep everyone awake and alert’. Since Nuan had not once felt tired during the entire night, she figured that it had worked. However, this couldn’t go on forever.

“How are you holding up?” Iosif suddenly asked her.

“Well,” she answered noncommittaly. “I don’t really have to worry about physical exhaustion anymore, although maybe that’s Geist’s trick.” She didn’t really know though, as her cybernetic limbs had allowed her to handle much heavier loads than she could have previously. Which she’d done a lot of to help ADVENT set up a line.

She eyed him suspiciously. “But I should be asking you that. You look like you’re going to collapse.”

“Hey, I might,” he admitted with a weak smile, as he held his helmet under his arm. “But I’ll get a boost from one of the psions. With any luck we’ll be getting actual reinforcements, and the barricades are probably good enough to reach even Geist’s absurdly high standards.”

Nuan glanced over to where the psion, helmet still foregone, stood speaking evenly to one of the Protopriests. If there was one thing she could say about him, it was that he knew how to command large groups of people. He knew what to do and didn’t waste time debating it. “A shame you’re not a telepath, otherwise I’d say you can transfer some of my focus into you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t do that. No reason to weaken you.”

“Quiet,” she scowled. “I mean it. It’s not like I’m really doing anything right now anyway. Even now that the break is over.”

Iosif put on his helmet. “Thanks, Nuan. I appreciate the offer. Really.”

“Dying to exhaustion would be an idiotic way for you to die,” Nuan said as she copied him by putting on her own helmet. “In fact, I would say that for every way you could die. Otherwise I’ll be the one writing your tombstone.”

“Oh no,” he said in mock sarcasm. “Truly a grave threat. I’ll have to do my best to stay alive then.”

Nuan lightly chucked as they walked to the line of erected barricades. “If you’re going to collapse though, just stop. If Geist says no, I’ll punch him in his robot face. He probably wouldn’t feel it anyway, since he’s essentially a robot already.”

“I’d urge you not to test your luck,” Iosif gently warned. “I don’t think he understands humor.” With that Iosif gave a quick salute to her and jogged to where one of the Priests was to relieve him. Nuan instead walked to where Geist was standing, overlooking the barricade, barrier, and alien fortress before them.

“Where am I needed, Overseer?” She asked, making sure to be polite now.

“Right here, currently,” he said in the same monotone as usual. “I’ve deployed Scout Man and Jin and several Hussars to determine what the aliens are holding. I am awaiting their return, and when they do, we will attack again.”

Nuan glanced over to him. “I assume the plan of attack will be different?”

“To an extent,” Geist said slowly, crossing his arms. “While I could request Archangel Hammarström to raze this to the ground, she and her Host are needed elsewhere. Our options are limited, and reinforcements are still hours out. I have estimated the strength of our psions, and we would be able to hold out perhaps another day; longer if we relied on our barricades.”

Nuan was waiting for him to get to the point. “We are going to take this without firing a shot.”

“Really,” Nuan said skeptically. “How.”

She was aware it was more of a statement than a question, but she didn’t see how that could possibly work.

Geist frowned. “Perhaps I misspoke. The aliens will doubtless send machines to help. Those will need to be destroyed, but I believe I know how to deal with their organic components.” He actually had a brief moment where pride lit up his face. “I have been experimenting with the aliens, testing the limits of this Overmind. Powerful to have so long a reach, but sloppy. Ineffective to someone with creativity.”

He shook his head. “My experiment during the night was a success, and now I simply need to apply it more aggressively.”

“What experiment?” She asked.

“Sustaining my forces telepathically,” he answered. “The effort would have exhausted me. However, as the majority was drawn from the aliens, this was not a concern. I simply need to transfer this knowledge to the telepaths and make the aliens die from exhaustion. Even the ones with machines in their brains are still dominated by their organic component. And from that power, we will make our soldiers fresh.”

He glanced down at her. “Your offer to Templar Bronis was noble, but unnecessary. The aliens themselves are an untapped resource, and we will sap them of it.”

“Stop reading my mind,” Nuan growled.

“And if you attack me, I will make you remember the moment your arms were severed from your body,” he added flatly. “While I understand humor, contrary to your belief, it has no place here and I am your superior officer. I know more than you here, and it is why we have advanced while ADVENT has fallen back. Do I make myself clear?”

She gulped. “Yes, Overseer.”

“Good, then prepare to take the fortress,” he said, turning his attention back forward. “When the time comes, you will know when to move forward.”

Nuan didn’t risk saying more, even if she knew he was probably reading her mind now, so she gave a salute, and dashed away from the psion as quickly as she could. Directly to Iosif in fact. If Iosif was the friendly psion; Geist was the one who everyone was scared of.

She felt it best not to interact with him too much more after that. Because at the moment, he scared her more than any alien.

Funnily enough, she wondered if the aliens felt the same about their Ethereal masters.

That would be suitably ironic.

***

_Los Angeles, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 1_

_11/22/2016 – 12:01 A.M._

The alien fortress was easily overtaken with the majority of defenders dead, and the cybernetic enemies were quickly overpowered by the combined forces of ADVENT and XCOM. Right now the majority were taking a rest and fortifying their position in the fortress itself. There was a wealth of stored weapons and equipment within it as well, with what appeared to be alien rations of some kind as well. No one had been brave enough to test them yet.

What was interesting were some of the corpses they had found, particularly aliens that had appeared to be Vitakarians, but they hadn’t died when the Imperator had performed his little trick. It turned out that they were machines; replicas designed to apparently look like Vitakarians with uncanny accuracy. If not for the machine fluids and metal skeleton, she never would have guessed that the corpse in front of her wasn’t organic.

“No organic parts at all?” She asked Harkin who had been performing preliminary battlefield autopsies with several ADVENT medics and engineers. “So it’s not a cyborg.”

“No,” Harkin shook his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “No organic components at all. Honestly, with how much empty space is in this body, I’m not even sure it’s finished.”

Patricia furrowed her eyebrows. “How?”

“Based on how it’s designed,” Matt Freeman, one of the ADVENT Engineers answered, nodding to the wreck on the table. “It’s a skeleton in a near-literal sense. There is _space_ that would normally hold organs. But there’s nothing there. The power cells are built into the spine, and the ‘brain’ of this machine isn’t complex or large enough to handle anything more than very simple commands.”

Sussan and Creed stood beside her, helmets off and clearly thinking hard. Sussan was definitely approaching this from a data standpoint and trying to figure out how many there were, and how to pick them out. Because they posed a distinct problem to telepaths in that these wouldn’t be able to be sensed in the first place.

Ideally, it made them excellent assassins and served as an anti-psion weapon.

Creed on the other hand was focused on a much simpler question. “Why bother with this in the first place?” He wondered out loud. “I assume that this was, or will be, used to create a Human variant for infiltration purposes. But the aliens don’t need that…?” He frowned. “There isn’t much of a reason to have this in the first place aside from a somewhat more durable soldier.”

“He has a point,” Sussan finally commented, biting her lower lip. “It would be one thing if they were being used like the Seekers. Assassins against us. But they weren’t. These were fighting on the front lines.”

“Maybe to cull division in the ranks?” A medic suggested with a shrug. “Do you know if that’s a problem?”

“No, they don’t work like that,” Patricia disputed. “Division in the ranks isn’t a problem, especially for Mutons.”

“Either way, the fact that they _can_ make something like this is concerning,” Harkin interrupted. “And it potentially means that any civilians we encounter will be…” he nodded down. “Fake. We’ll need telepaths to verify each one.”

“I’ll be ready if needed,” Sussan said.

“As will I,” Patricia confirmed. “Get some rest everyone if you can, this is not going to end anytime soon.”

She departed the room and walked out onto the upper wall of the fortress, some distance away from where ADVENT were trying to set up plasma defenses built into the alien fortress. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize the reason such units were designed,” the Imperator said, appearing beside her, this time taking on the appearance of the Commander. “In fact, you were most likely the reason for them.”

 _Really,_ Patricia wondered. _So would you enlighten me to the actual reason?_

“This time I can,” the Imperator said with a mocking smile. “Machines are invisible to us. They are immune to our influence. Thus, they are something that is a threat, but also a means of defense against psions. Your display in Las Vegas was so successful because there was nothing to indicate that anything was wrong. That is an advantage of such a machine, to observe, report, and watch for possible psionic influence.”

When put like that, it did make sense. _Interesting_.

“Fectorian will be doing what you suspect,” the Imperator continued. “He would not overlook such an opportunity. But it will not be as obvious as planting them in controlled cities. No, it will be a gradual insertion into Human society. Into ADVENT. Replicas that replace unknown citizens and function as sleeper agents much like EXALT did. So how will this be combated?”

Patricia sighed. _That is a problem for another time. Preferably when there is no battle being fought._

“If you insist,” he said nonchalantly. “So I would focus on ending this battle then. Did you figure out what I did?”

Patricia crossed her arms. She had quite a few theories as to how the Imperator could have bypassed the Overmind, besides cheating and telling the Overmind to leave temporarily. It had to have been far beyond a surface-mental attack like she was used too. It was likely an attack on the deep biological components of the brain, much like how a computer functioned. She was used to attacking the high-level code of the brain, whereas the Imperator had focused on the machine code of the brain itself.

Clever if true, and she hadn’t truly experimented with the possibilities there. The alternative was that he had exploited some weakness in the Overmind’s command and protection of the minds. Since this presumably spanned over multiple battlefields and countless soldiers, it meant that each soldier couldn’t have the best protection imaginable.

So it was entirely possibly to have a wall that blocked out certain attacks completely, but let others slip by. Anything malicious would be blocked, but, for example, telling them to do something which would almost certainly-but not for sure-get them killed might be able to bypass the defense due to it not being inherently malicious.

“Good,” the Imperator said approvingly. “Memories, thoughts, emotions, those are indeed powerful attacks, but the strength of a telepath lies in how deeply we can affect the body itself.” He motioned out to the city. “There is no such thing as a perfect defense, and there never will be. Even I almost certainly have vulnerabilities in my defenses, and a clever enough psion will be able to experiment and find the imperceptible loophole.”

 _You make no sense._ Patricia still couldn’t really believe they were having this conversation right now. _What exactly are you trying to gain by telling me how to beat the Overmind? Or you for that matter? Are you trying to lose?_

“No, I’m trying to make you _think_ ,” the Imperator stated, his voice deepening sharply. “Your perception of psionics is _limiting_. For you, ADVENT, and nearly everyone else, it is a way to levitate objects and control minds. You do not _push_ what is actually possible. You discover the power, and as little can contest you, you maintain the status quo.”

His voice became slower. “I will tell you something, Patricia, _that_ is why we ultimately lost the war with the Synthesized. We were comfortable with our own power and saw no reason to _advance_. We had no _drive_ , we had no _reason_ to do so. We were not _challenged_ , and as a result we were unprepared for an enemy that had done nothing _but_ improve.”

Patricia saw several explosions and heard the resounding booms in the distance. Another attack or something else it looked like. It barely registered because she was thinking about what the Imperator was saying. That didn’t sound quite like how Aegis had described the Synthesized, which she had equated to more of a horde than something that could critically think.

“Because that was a _lie,_ ” the Imperator stated, leaning on the wall. ”Not from Aegis, he would not lie about something like this, but it was a lie that was all they _were_. Aegis participated in the entire war, on the front lines in many cases. He only saw a fraction of what was happening near the wars end. They stuck with overwhelming numbers for the majority of it because they realized they didn’t _need_ to adapt.”

He raised a hand and a shimmering figure appeared in front of her. It was a strange amalgamation of flesh and metal, with odd growths and bulges protruding out of it. The left hand was some kind of metal melee weapon, and the right was a misshapen hand. “This is a simple Synthesized ‘soldier’,” the Imperator began. “What inspired the name for them. Look at it and what do you see? Sloppiness; inelegance; brutality; you see something that can die easily.”

 _Right._ Patricia nodded.

“Exactly,” the image vanished and in its place appeared something completely different. It was a bipedal figure, extremely thin, and the body was covered in a sheet of some black metal. Vine-like flesh-colored tentacle-things wrapped around the legs and up across the torso. But it wasn’t a mishmash of organ and machine, it was symmetrical and clean. The fingers of the alien were similarly closer to tentacles than jointed fingers.

More tentacles fell from the supposed ‘mouth’ of the alien, and the head itself had red-orbed eyes and obvious black cybernetic implants around the skull that seemed to drill right into the brain of this creature itself. It held no weapons from what she could see, but it looked like a near-perfect fusion of machine and flesh in an aesthetically pleasing way.

On the center of its chest, she saw what appeared to be a front-facing image of a Director Flagship, encased within a triangle outlined in red. “This is what killed four Imperators,” he said. “There was only one survivor, who managed to acquire the first glimpse of the true ingenuity of these Synthesized. However, I do not think it was designed in response to _us_ , but it was activated because we began adapting to their initial tactics. I never learned what it could do, but as best I can tell these were the warriors of the Director Flagships themselves.”

 _Aegis didn’t mention this._ Patricia recalled.

“Because he never fought against them,” the Imperator answered simply. “They were, as I recall, only deployed against Battlemasters, Reapers, or Imperators. And of course, whatever entered a Director Flagship. Quisilia would be able to tell your more, as he was one of the few to kill one.”

 _The history lesson is interesting,_ Patricia admitted. _But what is the point?_

The figure vanished and a new one appeared. This was again a bipedal figure, one that was also thin, but unlike the previous one, it was covered entirely in armor. It had double-jointed legs with small rounded feet. The limbs were almost normal, culminating in three-fingered hands. The head itself was also encased in armor, with an almost ovalish shape and slightly tinted red helmet receptors. The top of the head also appeared to take into account some kind of horns or growth.

The design was definitely of the Synthesized, and it also had the same Director Flagship symbol on the arms, also within a red-outlined triangle. _Another one?_ She looked up to the Imperator. _Ones Quisilia fought?_

“No,” the Imperator smiled. “This is a Synthesized that exists in this very galaxy right now. The Synthesized never left the galaxy, not really. They are simply watching and waiting. For what, I have yet to determine, but I have my suspicions.”

 _Does Aegis know?_ Patricia demanded; the implications of this immediately dominating her mind.

“No.”

_Why the hell not?_

The Imperator lost his smile. “Because Aegis is, and has always been fixated on the obvious. He does not, nor does he wish to understand the higher level that the galaxy operates on. He thinks in simple terms of ‘ally’ and ‘enemy’ but not about the _why_. If he learned the Synthesized were already here, he would simply demand all plans be accelerated and potentially cause a civil war because he does not _understand_ why they are here. All he would accomplish is ensuring that we die out.”

 _Will you please enlighten me as to the larger picture then?_ Patricia demanded.

“Not now, not here,” the Imperator said. “But considering certain events that are happening, I suspect you will begin to realize the situation sooner than you think. But the point this leads to, Patricia, about why I am helping you, it is because it ultimately benefits us.”

Patricia waited, and he continued. “I specifically chose the Ethereals with me now because they, in some way, broke the mold of the Empire,” the Imperator continued. “They were exceptional in their adaptability, power, ingenuity, or vision. I believed that would be enough. For some, it was. For many others, they were simply content to resume the status quo. They have no _challenge_. You cannot _command_ or _instill_ drive, not when nothing can challenge you.”

The Imperator smiled once again. “So that is why I tell you how to defeat my Overmind. That is why I help you when it makes little sense to do so. My species is arrogant, it is our greatest weakness, and I have allowed them to continue as such for too long. There is little point in coddling them any longer. Change will come to the Collective, Patricia, and should you listen to what I have to say, you will be a catalyst for it.”

He motioned to the city. “Now defeat my Overmind and take this city for your species. Perhaps he will realize what is happening, perhaps not, but you have what you need to beat him. I will be watching with great curiosity.”

And he vanished once more. Patricia stood silent for a moment, then closed her eyes, and began once more touching the minds of the aliens in the city, probing and testing the limits of what the Overmind had instilled.

It was odd, to actually _want_ to prove the Imperator right.

But considering he was advocating against his own species, she supposed that was acceptable.

***

_Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_11/21/2016 – 11:02 P.M._

The darkness made it easier to hide despite his size. The blacked out city also certainly contributed to this detail, as the Battlemaster had walked across the bridge, and as a consequence got closer to Arlington, and the edge of the city proper, he came across more civilians. Most ran at the sight of the silhouetted giant walking down the street, but he barely paid attention to them as he walked.

He had been fortunate that there was a bridge almost directly to the area close by. There had been a small team of soldiers at the entrance, but he had killed them before they could actually do anything more than shout a warning. He felt that there were more coming soon, and the next engagement would probably be fought differently.

How different was something he didn’t know yet.

But he would be ready to meet it.

Now that he was in Arlington, he was surprised to see that there were actually people hiding out there, or at least as much as they could. But there were others that were just sitting near the various memorials or on benches, almost as though they were expecting to die there. Most of them made themselves smaller, or ran away when they caught a glimpse of him, but he didn’t really notice them.

The cemetery itself was rather peaceful, if a somewhat oppressive air hanging over it. The Battlemaster knew little about it, save that it was the gravesite of American soldiers and important public figures. He’d specifically made sure to keep the fighting out of it, since fighting on the graves of soldiers, enemies or not, was something he would never willingly do.

As it was, he did not intend to fight here, it was simply a place he doubted ADVENT would expect him to go, and it would allow him some time to regroup and potentially allow Senorium to find him. He suspected ADVENT would be hesitant to fight here as well, but if pressed even they would just for an opportunity to kill him.

But he would prefer to avoid that. The cemetery itself was relatively untouched, and it was an almost haunting experience sightseeing the rows of white crosses, tombstones, and other symbols he presumed had religious connections, which he could only assume rested on graves.

While he would normally take the most direct route, for now he was staying on the designated paths to avoid going over the graveyards themselves. If ADVENT arrived, he would take a more direct route, but for now he was content to move briskly along the paths. Up ahead he saw a fairly large structure, an amphitheater of sorts it looked like.

Out of curiosity more than anything else, he walked towards it, thinking it was likely another memorial. Given the importance that seemed to be placed of it, it was likely important. As he got closer, he also saw something that made him grip his sword tighter. It did appear that it was actually under guard.

However, these soldiers were much different than standard ADVENT soldiers. In fact, there weren’t any at all. Their uniforms were clearly more ceremonial, with badges and pins on them, white gloves and old military caps he recognized from studying pre-ADVENT human militaries. In their hands they didn’t hold gauss weapons, but older traditional rifles with bayonets.

Not a threat then, not really.

He considered killing them, but in the context of where he was, and how little threat they actually posed, there wasn’t necessarily a reason to. It was likely they were guards tasked with protecting a monument or tomb of something important. But it depended on the soldiers, if they wouldn’t attack, neither would he.

But he was at least going to see what they were guarding.

The guards raised their weapons as he approached, but seemed smart enough to realize that he wasn’t planning on attacking them, not yet. He was impressed that they barely seemed perturbed by his approach, and their faces were complete stone as they aimed their unwavering rifles at him, for all the good it would do them.

The Battlemaster was aware he posed an intimidating figure, but if that affected the guards in front of him, they did not show it. He moved around the building until he saw what was probably the object they were guarding. There were no less than a dozen guards around it, and all of them had their weapons raised.

It appeared to be a large box, made out of some kind of white stone or marble. Perhaps it represented a tomb. There was clear inscription on it as well, and it was rather ornate indicating its importance. The Battlemaster carefully walked around the soldiers in front of the perimeter, who followed his every move with their rifles.

In front of it, he finally got a good look at what was inscribed on the monument itself: “ _Here rests in honored glory, an American soldier, known but to God”_

Ah, this was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. He’d seen mention of it, but had not known it was treated with such reverence. The concept was one he could admire, as he was aware of the number of those who would die and never be remembered again. Against the Synthesized it had not been uncommon, and in this war…it was again the same.

Even symbolically, it was a noble gesture.

He was curious if they would change the wording now that they were a part of ADVENT.

But that was ultimately not his concern. His curiosity had been sated and after looking at it for a few moments longer, he walked away, leaving the guards alone, even if they never lowered their rifles once. Dedication to a simple tomb. Respectable, even if it was something of a waste. But perhaps it mattered to the Humans more than him.

With that done, he kept walking to the far exit that would lead to the subdivisions and housing areas of the Arlington area. Staying near the Pentagon was not a good idea, and he knew ADVENT would be hesitant to nuke him so close to the city itself.

“Battlemaster!”

He immediately froze and swung to where the voice was coming from, sword at the ready, and saw something he was not expecting. It was one of the XCOM snipers that had retreated earlier, except that she had her hands up and was weaponless from what he could tell. This couldn’t be a surrender. He was the one at a disadvantage here, not her.

So she wanted to talk? About what?

“Do not come closer, XCOM,” he warned, pointing the bloody blade in her direction. “What do you want?”

“I have orders from the Commander,” she said, a bit gruffly. “An opportunity for you to surrender to XCOM. You would be treated well and kept from ADVENT who would likely execute you.”

The Battlemaster stared in disbelief. “No.”

“Not my job to convince you,” she said, slowly and deliberately reaching down to her waist and unlatching a device. “I’m just supposed to deliver this. You made a good decision coming here. ADVENT is looking in the wrong place, so you’ll have some time to talk. In the meantime, I’m ordered to lure them elsewhere temporarily. But you’ll have to make it fast.”

She tossed the device at him and he telekinetically caught it roughly halfway between them, keeping it suspended for several seconds in case it blew up. When it didn’t, he brought it forward until it was in one of his lower hands. The XCOM soldier was already backing up and sprinting away from him, so he turned his attention to the communicator before him.

He pressed the button and a hologram of Aegis appeared before him. _“Battlemaster,”_ Aegis greeted. _“I wish this were under better circumstances.”_

“As do I, traitor,” he answered, calmer than he felt. “I suppose it should be expected that you wish me to simply give up.”

 _“You cannot run forever,”_ Aegis warned. _“ADVENT is ensuring that no reinforcements can come and save you. Yes, many will die, but that is what is considered acceptable for them. More of the Priests will come, and at some point even you will become tired.”_

“Then I will die,” he stated flatly. “Unlike you, I don’t avoid what threatens me. But I will not surrender. Not to XCOM, and certainly not to a _traitor_.”

 _“I am not a traitor.”_ Aegis said. _“I am performing what has to be done, which is preserving our species.”_

“By allying with our enemies?” The Battlemaster demanded.

 _“The Imperator is no longer concerned about the Synthesized,”_ Aegis said. _“The purpose he recruited us for has changed. He will go to war against the galaxy to restore the Empire as it was, without realizing that is how we’ll be destroyed for good.”_

“And the best way to accomplish that was by betraying _us_?” The Battlemaster growled. “I do not know why you think the Imperator has abandoned our mission. I have seen nothing to suggest that.”

 _“If that is the case,”_ Aegis said, pointing a finger at him. _“Then why are we on opposite sides? Why was this war fought in the first place? If the Imperator really wished to prepare for the Synthesized, then why do we fight our potential allies? What is different about the Humans as opposed to the Vitakara and Andromedons?”_

Early on, the Battlemaster had wondered that.

However, he potentially had an answer.

“I am not the Imperator,” he admitted. “I cannot read his mind, nor would I have made the same decision. But I believe that it was to force us to change. We have been stagnant for hundreds of years, and yet we cannot win a war against a species confined to their homeworld. War brings refinement, and the Humans were chosen to be our catalyst.”

He paused, considering. “The Collective is flawed, Aegis, I am no longer blind to that. You might have had your reasons for leaving; ones I cannot say were invalid. But you ran instead of trying to fix them.”

_“Do you really think I didn’t try?”_

“No,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “Not really. If you had, I would have known about it. Sana would know about it. Nebulan, Sicarius, the Guardians…You left to make a statement and it was received. But if change was what you truly wanted, then you are a coward who ran in fear of the Imperator. He is our leader, but not our master.”

Another pause. “The Humans are not as I was expecting. Perhaps they didn’t deserve it. But their fate was decided long ago. You have stayed out of it so far, Aegis, and if you wish to survive the end of this war, you will continue to do so. I will not surrender, traitor, and if I die today, so be it. But I will not take the easy way out of this. If you truly wish for this war to end, convince the Commander to surrender. Otherwise it will not be decided until ADVENT and XCOM are destroyed.”

He shut off the communicator and tossed it away. Unsurprising in retrospect that Aegis would wish to convince him to surrender, but it was always doomed to be futile. But now he had to focus on leaving; finding Senorium, and plotting a path where he survived.

Despite Aegis’s warning, he was confident he could survive.

If he had survived the war against the Synthesized, he could survive against ADVENT.

***

_Sacramento, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 2_

_11/22/2016 – 8:16 A.M._

“Prepare to lower the barrier!” Geist commanded, as the respective soldiers readied themselves for the fight to truly begin. Oliver and David similarly readied their weapons. According to Geist, the main barrier would dissipate and the Priests would erect defensive cover similar to their initial push. They would assist and protect ADVENT Engineers as they constructed permanent defenses, and presumably continue forward until they reached the fortress.

Geist had also said that he would be applying ‘his own abilities’ to the push, although what those were he hadn’t specified. It was primarily telepathic, likely. Oliver wasn’t entirely sure now what the aliens were doing in the fortress, as they had stopped firing some time ago, and he had noticed the subtle changes to the guard.

“What do you think they have?” David asked as the Priests began shimmering in purple energy. “They have to know what they’re facing now.”

“Don’t know,” Oliver shrugged. “But it isn’t anything good. They’ve been replacing everything with those cybernetic Mutons.”

“Begin!” Geist ordered, and the purple barriers flickered and dissipated, as an unbroken line of cover appeared a short distance ahead, and that was their cue to begin. The aliens in the fortress began raining plasma down on them, most of which missed the initial push, but a few ADVENT soldiers succumbed to the rain of plasma.

However, most of the initial charge was successful in making it to the psionic barricade. Oliver slid into position, and noted that Iosif and Nuan had also made it successfully. Darego had also made it to his left, and all of them were returning fire at the alien fortress. Cracks from the gauss sniper rifles of the Winged Hussars in the back rang out and already there were a few aliens that stumbled back.

“Scoot over some!” One of the Engineers beside him demanded, laying a small rectangular bar on the ground which he knew was the first step in establishing permanent cover. A sheet of metal was pulled up, locked in place, and another Engineer beside her began passing metal pieces which she began welding in place.

Oliver looked back to see Geist still standing back at the initial line, one right hand extended to the fortress ahead and the opposite held behind his back; a posture of a man who had no fear of death whatsoever. Psionic energy shimmered around him, although it was less pronounced than in the Priests holding up the barricade.

“We’ve got hostiles on the ground!” One Officer shouted, and from the fortress Berserkers stormed out. These weren’t standard Berserkers, but something that had been similarly enhanced like the Mutons. These Berserkers were clad in black armor, were somehow bigger than regular ones, and twin alloy blades protruded from each of their hands that looked at minimum half the size of himself.

Behind them came out the largest Mutons that Oliver had ever seen. These stood far taller than the Elites, and were constructed out of the same black armor as the rest of these enhanced Mutons. But as they lumbered forward, Oliver saw the extensive array of rocket launchers on the wrists and shoulders, and the visibly _thick_ armor.

The enhanced Berserkers were charging forward, and the other Mutons were moving forward as well. _“Dragoons, target oncoming Berserkers,”_ Geist ordered calmly. _“Hussars, target explosive dispensers on the armored Mutons. Priest Telekines and Offensive forces, lift and destroy oncoming Berserkers. Once Berserker threat is removed, Telekines prepare missile defense techniques. Goliath Beauvau, target the armored Mutons.”_

It sounded good. The problem was that there were at least more than a dozen Berserkers charging forward, and at least a dozen of those armored Mutons. This _wasn’t_ counting the fact that they were still under fire from the fortress itself and the forces within. The Goliath behind him fired its weapon, the crack of the massive railgun drowning out every other sound around it.

One of the armored Mutons stumbled back, but amazingly it appeared largely intact, only sporting a hole in the armor. It raised its weapons to the MEC and fired in retaliation. It was joined by several more of the Mutons. The Berserkers were also close to the line, surprisingly not making any noise except for the thumping when they ran.

Oliver fired at it, but all it seemed to do was irritate it slightly. They simply didn’t have enough firepower to take them out fast enough, and the front had obviously been designed for frontal charges. The Berserker charging them was suddenly lifted into the air by one of the Priests beside him, one hand extended.

“Shoot it now!” He yelled. Other Berserkers were suddenly lifted up, but not all of them. The Offensive-affinity Priests then unleashed their own powers. Streams of psionic energy flared and small maelstroms and purple flares erupted on the battlefield. Another Priest behind him screamed as she fired a stream of psionic energy at the raised Berserker, corroding and destroying its armor.

Everything suddenly seemed to become much… _calmer_. The sounds of the battlefield became less distracting, allowing him to concentrate more easily. He no longer really felt tired or weary, as he’d become over the past several hours once the telepathic sustenance had ended. But that appeared to be back now, and it seemed a simple matter to aim his rifle up to an obvious gap in the head and fire.

The gauss slugs splintered the corroded material and lodged deep into the brain of the alien. More psionic energy followed the slugs, destroying anything in its path. The corpse was slammed to the ground and it didn’t rise again. Across the line, more Berserkers were meeting the same fate. Several had broken the line, however, and were wreaking havoc on the ADVENT positions.

The enraged aliens stabbed, grabbed, and threw soldiers around them, immune to pain and tickled by weapons. Iosif was currently trying to kite one of the Berserkers, slamming his mace down on the armored hands of the aliens, while Nuan tossed several grenades at the feet of the alien, which exploded in black goop.

Symbiote Grenades. Smart. The alien swung at her and instead of jumping out of the way, she used her prosthetic to straight-up _block_ the strike, and then grabbed the blade itself while she threw another Symbiote Grenade at the face of the Berserker which roared as it exploded in its face. Iosif meanwhile was working on smashing the joints of the alien, bringing it to the ground and Nuan finally let go and jumped back. Her entire right arm was sliced and damaged, but did seem to still be functional.

He didn’t want to know what that would have looked like if she hadn’t had prosthetics.

Iosif was joined by several Executors who first slammed their weapons on the joints of the Berserker, which took far longer than normal since the combination of metal and flesh was more interconnected that even he’d anticipated. It took a few times smashing the head, but eventually the alien was still.

On the battlefield itself, the Goliath was easily holding its own against the armored Mutons. Oliver hadn’t known that the Goliath had a point-laser defense system, but it did and had effectively taken out at least half of the missiles shot at it, and even though the others hit, it was _designed_ to be a tank and take extensive damage.

Four of the armored Mutons were destroyed now, and then, unexpectedly, all of the aliens suddenly fell down. Oliver cocked his head as the fire abruptly ceased from the alien side. “The hell?” David commented to no one in particular.

Oliver glanced behind him to see Geist walking forward towards them, the distorted psionic energy surrounding him. “I’m going to guess this is because of Geist.”

“Wasn’t he being blocked by one of the Ethereals?”

Oliver shrugged. “Maybe he beat him?”

“Exploited, would be a more accurate word, Infantry Ilari,” Geist stated as he walked up. “A theory, but one which has held up in practice. The enemy soldiers are not dead, I am preventing that from happening. They have simply collapsed from exhaustion as I have pushed their minds to that point. Their lower mental functions will keep them alive, but they will not pose a threat to us.”

He glanced over to them. “Well done, both of you. The line recovered quickly despite those Berserkers breaching it. However, such was inevitable with our limited numbers.”

“So what’s the plan now?” Iosif asked, walking up with Nuan.

“We secure the fortress and prepare the alien captives for extradition to secure ADVENT facilities, as well as taking some of the more interesting specimens for ourselves,” Geist explained, motioning forward to the Officers who were advancing across the now-safe concrete field. “Killing them, while satisfying, will not allow us to gain as much information as the alternative.”

“They’re not all dead!” Someone shouted, and all of them raised their weapons to see two black figures walking out of the fortress. They appeared humanoid, and in some kind of armor with green lights on their face.

Which then turned to red.

 _“Don’t_ open fire!” Geist called, raising a hand.

“Why not?” Nuan demanded.

Geist’s lips twitched. “I want to see how it works. Apparently DC has come under attack by these. I want to know if the reports are true.”

“Having also caught up on that,” Iosif interjected. “I don’t think I want to see how it works.”

Geist turned to one of the Priest behind him. “Protopriest Darrah?”

“Yes sir?” The Priest answered.

“Bring the defensive and offensive specialized Priests forward,” he said as the machines in the distance began moving on the fallen aliens, and seemingly shooting black dust into them. “If I understand how these machines work correctly, this should render them ineffective.”

“What are they?” Oliver asked as he saw the humanoids advancing forward, and now were apparently joined by the black ghosts of some of the armored Mutons.

“They are called Spectres,” Geist said, motioning the Priests to move forward, and began moving himself. “A nanoweapon that can be impossible to stop if handled incorrectly.”

“And you wanted to see how it works?” David demanded. “It seems pretty damn apparent!”

Geist furrowed his eyebrows. “Calm, Gunner Cannon, I know what I am doing.”

The Spectres were halfway across when one of them was suddenly encased in a psionic box. Two more found themselves in similar situations, and the Priests soon figured out what Geist was doing, and followed suit and before the now-four Spectres realized it, they were trapped in psionic cages.

They clearly didn’t know how to handle them, as one placed a hand on it, and the entire being rippled, as the nanites tried to eat through the psionic shield. It was unsuccessful, obviously, and several of the others dissipated into black dust and tried flying against the shield to brute-force a way out.

“Psions, burn the area inside the shields,” Geist commanded. “Be thorough.”

The psionic shields were suddenly alight with energy as the Priests created entire maelstroms in the prisons. Normally these would spread out, but contained within a psionic shield they essentially annihilated anything inside. At the same time, it extracted a toll from the psions maintaining the shields, but they held on.

A few seconds later the psionic storms ended, and there was nothing in the shields. “Maintain,” Geist commanded. “We cannot take chances with this kind of weapon.”

One of the Protopriests shouted a command Oliver didn’t hear, and the cages were again alight with a psionic storm. Maybe overkill in the literal sense, but with nanoweapons, Oliver didn’t think that kind of precaution was especially unreasonable. But once that finished, Geist and the Priests lowered the shields and nothing perceptible happened.

The effect on the Priests however, had been extensive. Most of them collapsed to the ground as the shield collapsed, and the offensive-talented Priests no longer had any armor on their arms, which were covered in blood and scars. Medics were rushing forward, and the rest of the army advanced as well.

“Good job,” Oliver told the psion who for once, looked actually pleased and not completely emotionless. He might not really like the guy on a personal level, but he had to admit he wasn’t sure even Patricia would have been as successful.

“Appreciated,” Geist acknowledged. “Now come with me and help find a more…organic alien. Once the captives are secure, I will need to attempt to interrogate it.”

“Won’t that be a problem?” David asked.

“I don’t need for it to be awake to extract what I need,” Geist explained as they walked forward. “If I understand the methods this Ethereal uses, it requires the alien to be cognizant. If it is not, it does not receive protection. However, it is difficult to locate unconscious minds and thus I need one in front of me.”

“Will do,” Oliver nodded as ADVENT took the alien fortress for themselves.

He wasn’t sure how the rest of the battle was going, but he was feeling a hell of a lot more optimistic now.

***

_Fairbanks, Alaska. – United States of America_

_11/22/2016 – 9:33 A.M._

Roman had never gone through a Gateway before, and now that he had…he found it slightly anti-climactic. Once you got past the purple lights and strange psionic-like visuals, it was relatively uneventful. However, stepping out into a completely different area was a realization that left goosebumps on him. The difference between Redding, California, and Fairbanks, Alaska, was night and day.

After Redding had been taken, he and several other squads had been redirected to assist in the defenses on other cities that had come under attack. There sadly hadn’t been time to enjoy their victory, but the day had been good and they’d been able to get some brief rest.

Now they were marching down the street with the Chief Marshal beside him, Halli Cursan who sounded understandably tense. “The situation isn’t as good as where you likely came from,” she warned as gunfire in the distance reached his ears. “We don’t have trenches complete, nor do we have many Flak Towers. We have limited air support and a similar number of Priests and Special forces.”

That indeed did not sound good. “Enemy composition?”

“That’s the good news,” Halli nodded. “Seem to largely be Borelians and Mutons. We’re holding the perimeter for now, and they are being sent in numbers we can handle. Losses are fairly equal for both sides from what we’ve recorded.”

Roman looked around the area, noting that it was much less developed compared to other cities, with no building reaching higher than four stories that he could see. It was all downtown buildings and houses. Up ahead he saw two Flak Towers beside the main road, which dwarfed everything beside them.

In the distance he saw plasma fire heading towards the ADVENT line, from aliens that were taking cover behind trees, cars, and cover they had established themselves. It was definitely primarily Borelians, and they did seem to be employing some tactics in their attack. “Where are the other attacks coming from?” Galina asked.

“The Airfield is one,” Halli said grimly. “The college has also come under attack, as has the airport. They are attacking us from all sides, and we can’t be everywhere.”

“We’ll assist here then,” Roman assured her, motioning his team to join the fight. “Request us if you need help elsewhere.”

“Good luck,” she said, and briskly turned to speak with one of the Cuirassiers that had walked up behind them.

“[I’ll be activating my field,]” Roman told them as he got a good look at the ADVENT line so far. Just in front of it were the half-dug trenches, but the line itself looked solid. Black alloy barricades and rows of ADVENT soldiers, with a few Priests that were providing various psionic support, although it only appeared to be defense and telekinesis.

“[Copy,]” Elena confirmed as their weapons were raised. Roman activated his field and once the line was reached the plasma bolts fired from the Borelian forces were deflected to the sides. That gave the aliens clear pause, enough for Maksim to snipe one from the back as he moved to enter the leftmost Flak Tower.

Galina immediately began laying down fire, rallying the other ADVENT gunners to begin concentrating their fire at the main alien barricades. The Borelians were dressed slightly different than the standard Vitakarian soldiers he’d been fighting, these seemed more armored and designed for colder weather than others.

He clipped one in the shoulder and it fell back into cover, though Konstantin and Stanislav were more successful, the former catching one trying to move to closer cover and was immediately ripped apart by the autorifle. Stanislav also wounded another Borelian. “Field ending!” Roman warned. “It’s going to get hot again!”

Sure enough, the moment he shut off the field green plasma shot towards them, managing to hit some ADVENT soldiers who fell to the ground. The ones still alive were immediately tended to by Medics and protected by the Defensive Priest. The other Priest moved to the front line beside him. “Provide covering fire!” She yelled, beginning to become distorted with psionic energy.

Roman nodded and complied. Galina and Konstantin laid down suppressive fire on the alien forces, forcing them temporarily back into cover. However, that only proved to be their deaths as the Priest raised her hand, and the half-dozen Borelians closest to the ADVENT lines were lifted up into the air, and…compressed.

Roman glanced to the woman to see her using her other hand to clap together with the first one, in a crushing motion. The results were…unpleasant. From there they could hear the aliens screaming in pain as their limbs were twisted and bones splinted as they were quite literally ripped apart and forced into the psionic equivalent of a hydraulic press.

Yellow blood dripped from their corpses and destroyed bodies and they dropped to the ground. The Priest fell back down into cover, breathing heavily. “Nice work,” Anton complimented. “That should give them something to think about.”

Roman agreed, and it looked like the aliens had gotten the message as they didn’t seem eager to take control of the forward point again. More snipers confirmed kills, even as more aliens began arriving. “ _Andromedons,”_ Maksim reported from the Flak Tower. _“And…some kind of armored figure.”_ A stunned pause. _“Roman…I think the Battlemaster is here.”_

He, and every other soldier nearby briefly froze at that. Roman felt his blood freeze and exchanged a quick look with Elena who was similarly paralyzed for a second. _“Repeat that!”_ Halli demanded. _“Did you say the Battlemaster was here? That can’t be, he’s still in D.C.”_

 _“Well, if it’s not the Battlemaster, it looks pretty damn close,”_ Maksim insisted. _“Getting a closer look now…uh…actually, I don’t think this is The Battlemaster. I think it’s another one.”_

“Another one?” Konstantin growled. “They have _another_ one?”

 _“It has some other aliens with it,”_ Maksim updated. _“Some kind of Vitakarian it looks like. Snipers. The other Battlemaster is coming up now.”_

“Hey!” One soldier called out. “They’ve stopped firing!”

Roman suddenly noticed that the battlefield had gone quiet. In the distance he saw the first glimpse of the oncoming Ethereal. He couldn’t fault Maksim mistaking the alien for the Battlemaster, as the Ethereal _was_ as large as the Battlemaster himself. But there was something clearly different about this one; first was that this one wore some kind of hood and a cape, both of which were deep purple.

The next was that the helmet, as much as some of it was hidden under the hood, was different from the Battlemaster’s, not as ornate and looked like it just covered the entire face with little decoration. The armor also looked slightly shinier and more durable. But what was interesting was that this Ethereal didn’t have a weapon in its hands.

“Should we open fire?” Elena asked.

 _“It looks like it wants to talk,”_ Halli said slowly. _“Let it come to the front alien line. No further. And be ready to retreat. We can’t defeat a Battlemaster.”_

“Copy that,” Roman muttered as the alien got closer. The alien _was_ massive, and even from a distance he knew it towered over all of them.

“ADVENT!” The Ethereal called out, with a distinctive female voice, despite the layering indicative of Ethereals. “By order of the Battlemaster of the Ethereal Collective, I have been allowed the freedom to allow your surrender. I will only make this offer once. Refuse, and your soldiers will die and citizens be taken captive.”

 _“This is Chief Marshal Halli of ADVENT,”_ she responded. _“Considering what we know happens to captives, your offer is rather hollow. Who are you?”_

“I am simply giving an offer,” the Ethereal said, taking an aggressive stance, one foot in front of the other. “How you answer is your decision.”

_“We refuse.”_

“Understood,” the Ethereal answered, and something flew to her upper hand. A cylinder of some kind flew into it. “If you must know who you will die to, it is the Second Guardian of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective, and in his name, you are marked for death. Fight well, Humans.” An orange-yellow beam sprang from the cylinder and extended to a length Roman suspected was as large as him.

“Fire!” Roman yelled, and gauss slugs and lasers from the MDUs flew towards the Ethereal Guardian who flourished her strange energy blade and thrust out a hand, stopping the projectiles in the air and at the same time jumped forward, pulling forward with the two lower hands and several ADVENT soldiers were lifted and went flying towards her.

The hand holding the energy blade slashed twice, and the ADVENT soldiers fell to the ground in pieces. The Ethereal thrust out with a hand and the ADVENT soldiers in front of her went flying backwards and she leapt forward and stabbed into one of the MDUs, then slashed up, and pushed the machine back with a telekinetic push.

The blade apparently could cut through anything, and now that the Ethereal was at the line, the soldiers were retreated. “Fall back!” Roman called to his team as the Ethereal cut through two more soldiers easily.

“Stay!” The Ethereal called out, and all the soldiers around her froze, including Roman, who while he could aim and think freely, couldn’t move. The rest of his team was frozen as well, and Roman watched in horror as the Ethereal decapitated Galina and followed up by stabbing Stanislav through the heart.

Elena shouted something Roman didn’t quite hear, but the Ethereal briefly stumbled as something hit it in the head. The sniper fire only seemed to barely distract her as she continued cutting through the soldiers with bloody and brutal ease. Upon closer inspection, Roman saw that it couldn’t have been an energy blade the Ethereal wielded in her hand.

The bodies, while clearly cut, weren’t cauterized and bled profusely. Now Roman could also hear a strange electronic buzz from the weapon, one which rose and fell in intensity whenever the Ethereal swung it. One arm reached towards him, and mimed a pull and Roman found his, Elena’s, and Konstantin’s weapons pulled out of their hands.

The Ethereal sliced her blade through the air and executed several more soldiers caught by her mental trap, and followed up with a stab towards another MDU, and Roman saw the beam of the weapon narrow and lengthen as it moved, until it was long enough to reach the MDU and stab it in the center. The blade retracted until it was the original length a second later, and the Guardian’s lower hands reached towards them and mimed lifting them up.

Roman barely had time to scream as he saw Elena crushed in a telekinetic grip and Konstantin’s neck snap before the Guardian lunged forward with her blade towards his neck. The last thing he felt was a searing warmth with his last thought hoping that Maksim would get out in time.

Then there was nothing.

Only black.

***

_Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_11/22/2016 – 2:01 A.M._

The Battlemaster heard the discharging of gauss weapons in the distance, and saw ADVENT soldiers rushing towards them as well, a surprise considering he was supposedly the primary target. But for now they were distanced with something else. The Battlemaster broke into a run towards the commotion, opening with a psionic dash that pulverized an ADVENT soldier and decapitated another.

They were in the Arlington subdivision, where apartments and housing complexes dominated the landscape. From what the Battlemaster could tell, they were seemingly empty but he figured there were at least some civilians staying in them. The area he was in now had clearly seen recent combat, as many of the houses had bullet holes, scorching, or had entire chunks blown out of it.

Once the Battlemaster turned the street, he saw a fairly welcome sight: Senorium.

The Warlock had clearly been in a fight, if not for his life, something that was pretty close. ADVENT soldiers were strewn around the area, most of which had sustained heavy damage indicative of psionics. Senorium’s armor was bloody, marred, and missing entire pieces. His helmet had been discarded or too damaged to provide any use, and as a result the Battlemaster could clearly see the rage that enveloped the alien’s face.

ADVENT had the Warlock surrounded, and were keeping their distance while firing gauss weapons. Blood spurted from his wounds, but the Creator had somehow enabled them to survive seemingly fatal injuries. The Warlock roared and extended his hands to one of the groups, shooting gouts of corrosive energy towards a group, while gesturing to another squad who stopped firing and dropped their weapons before collapsing to the ground in apparent pain.

However, the purple flare, size, and the Warlock’s more sluggish reactions indicated that his consistent usage of psionic was taking its toll. Much like a Battlemaster, the Chosen could not avoid becoming tired. He suspected that the alien could hold out for a while longer, but the issue was that Senorium didn’t seem to know how to pace himself, and if he wasn’t careful, he might quite literally burn out and allow ADVENT a perfect opportunity to kill him while he was paralyzed on the ground.

Something to watch for.

But there were more coming. Priests were in the mix as well, telekines and defensive psions it appeared, who were likely responsible for anchoring him to the ground, leaving him an easy target. Time to change that.

The Battlemaster thrust out an arm and the soldiers in front of him were thrown back several feet, while the ones closest to Senorium simply stumbled. With another clenched fist he collapsed their helmets into their heads, mixing brains with bone and metal. He killed one of the Priests with a simple decapitating strike, and the other he simply pulled into his hand and slammed the body onto the concrete where he followed up by smashing the face with his armored boot.

The Warlock gave a bloody grin as he saw the Battlemaster fighting towards him, and redoubled his attacks on the ADVENT soldiers, who began backing off once they saw the Battlemaster in the distance. A psionic maelstrom appeared on one of the ADVENT-controlled streets, cutting through the ADVENT soldiers and destroying the nearby houses many of the soldiers were using for cover.

“Battlemaster!” Senorium roared as the armored Ethereal joined him, flourishing his blade as he saw the ADVENT forces frantically communicating with each other in confusion and terror. “I’m pleased to see you survived.”

“I assume you have been kept busy,” the Battlemaster answered, declining to return the pleasure. “You’ve held out long.”

Senorium’s mouth formed into a sneer. “The Humans have attempted to kill me, all have failed. As one Chosen by the Creator herself, I cannot die to mere flying chunks of metal. I have held this position to give you a chance to find me, as I am certain you came to ensure my survival.”

The Battlemaster gestured to twin MDUs that were marching up, weapons raised and lifted them into the air before crushing them into steel balls. “We have a better chance of escape together.”

“That we do, Battlemaster,” the Warlock grinned, empowered further by the aura the Battlemaster commanded. More corrosive energy spat from him arms, hitting one of the ADVENT Gunners. “I am certain our extraction is coming. ADVENT knows we are here, and they will attempt to kill both of us. But we cannot be killed!”

Even in the middle of battle, he was tempted to let out a sigh at the idiotic fanaticism of the Warlock. Only idiots believed they couldn’t be killed. The chances of them dying were low, true, but those went up if they decided to stay in the _exact same place_. “No,” the Battlemaster interjected, walking forward. “We keep moving. Staying in one place is a trap. We cut a path through ADVENT. Follow my lead or you will die, no matter what you believe.”

He brandished his blade and began moving towards the street ADVENT was concentrated on. Senorium seemed briefly taken aback, but hastily dashed to his side. “Of course, Battlemaster, an Elder’s wisdom is far greater than my own.”

The Battlemaster didn’t bother to respond, and instead charged the ADVENT line and commenced the battle anew.

***

_Sydney Outskirts – Australia_

_11/21/2016 – 4:28 P.M._

It turned out that a fight between an Ethereal, and a being possessed by some kind of entity was a highly destructive fight.

Aliens weren’t even attempting to slow down the Chronicler anymore, they were fleeing either out of fear or Quisilia’s orders, both of which made perfect sense. Anything that stayed even close to the Chronicler was atomized and leveled. One thrust out hand sent out a shockwave that splintered concrete buildings and turned anything inside into blood and gore.

Abby herself was staying far away, observing through her armor which she felt trapped in at this point. Harper and the others were similarly pursuing the aliens, and even they seemed charged under some unnatural force. They gestured and aliens just melted into goop, surrounded first by black ripples and tears.

Particle beams still fired from their hands, but they ultimately served as the background to the Chronicler’s path of destruction. Abby was no longer a participant in this fight, but an observer who simply hoped she’d survive with her mind and body intact.

Both of which had yet to be determined.

Quisilia had reappeared several times, largely by illusions she’d believed, not really taunting so much as commenting on what was happening. No one had been in the mood to listen and after the Chronicler had leveled an entire subdivision in the event he was hiding there, he’d not appeared since. The Chronicler clearly intended to make good on his promise to level the city, or at least the entity within him did.

And now Quisilia appeared on the street before him, surrounded by rubble where buildings had stood as the Chronicler had leveled them once he realized aliens had been inside. “Is this all you can do?’ Quisilia asked, a blade twirling in his hand. “Destroy? Kill? I had honestly expected something with a bit more thought. You really think that you can kill someone by just blowing up buildings?” He wagged a finger at the Chronicler, and two more Quisilias appeared beside him. “No, that just doesn’t work.”

The Chronicler appraised him for a moment. _“No, Elder One. But it does put you at ease, and then you become vulnerable.”_ He suddenly reached behind him without looking and Quisilia, presumably the _real_ Quisilia, became visible and encased in blue energy, hovering behind the Chronicler, hand raised in a fist. _“I have seen more than you can possibly imagine, Elder One. I am no spymaster, but I understand the nuances of power; of visible and invisible influence.”_

“Not well enough, it seems,” Quisilia said, and that was when Abby noticed that Quisilia was holding something in his hand that exploded into a black mist that began flying towards the Chronicler. She also saw that similar mists had also appeared around Harper and his soldiers who were desperately backing off and trying to get the nanites off of them.

 _“Insolent!”_ The Chronicler roared as he flared with bright blue energy, and turned his attention to his soldiers. It was enough for the bonds to weaken and Quisilia vanished, only to appear behind one of Harper’s soldiers and stab up through the chin, presumably killing her. He vanished again just as quickly, then reappeared behind another of Harper’s soldiers and pushed him forward into a shimmering portal that had just been created.

Just as quickly, he attempted to vanish except that the air around him became charged with _something_ that even Abby could feel it. Quisilia glanced upwards, and realized that the Chronicler was blocking his teleporting again. Abby looked back to the Chronicler, who had one hand raised towards the air, and another towards Harper’s soldiers. Blue fire flared and killed the nanites, while Quisilia slowly backed up.

 _“You fight well, Elder One,”_ the Chronicler complimented, almost grudgingly. _“But you are no warrior. You cannot fight me and win. You cannot kill me. You can only try and slow me down.”_

“I want you to think for a moment,” Quisilia said, in the same light tone, although Abby could _definitely_ tell he was faking it. “You kill me here. Or capture me. What exactly do you think happens next?”

 _“Whoever your master is, they will receive the message to leave this world,”_ the Chronicler stated, slowly walking forward. _“You mean nothing in this War, Elder One. You do not belong in this galaxy any longer. Your time is past, and the time for the new species to rise has come. Your interference is at an end.”_

“I believe I disagree,” Quisilia disputed. “Just because we didn’t die when we were supposed to, doesn’t mean there isn’t a place for us.” He raised a black blade towards the Chronicler. “And all you’ve said simply reaffirms what the Imperator has learned. Even if you kill me, you will make a powerful enemy.”

The Chronicler laughed.

He gestured with one hand and Quisilia went flying, slamming into a building all the way at the end of the street. He teleported directly in front of the Ethereal pinned to the wall, who had hit it with enough force to crack it. Abby had to sprint forward to even catch what they were saying.

 _“You have no idea of what you speak,”_ the Chronicler said quietly, mockingly. _“Your kind are the same as all Elder species. Believing they are superior simply because they live. Because they survive. And think they will be the ones to end the War. Freed from ‘tyranny’; from ‘control’. No…you do not care about that. You simply want to rule this galaxy undisputed.”_

He chuckled. _“Not that I can blame you. But your delusion will die. Starting with-“_

The world suddenly became brighter than the sun and it felt like an earthquake struck the ground around her. Abby was thrown to the ground and glanced to the sky to see a sight she had not thought to see in person.

The mushroom cloud of a nuclear blast.

The other soldiers had fallen to the ground as well, and even the Chronicler found his monologue cut short as he stumbled and glanced up at the sky. _“What?”_ Quisilia suddenly vanished as the Chronicler’s concentration, and likely vision, was broken since he wore no helmet and his senses were overwhelmed.

Quisilia then reappeared behind the Chronicler and pushed him forward into another shimmering portal and this time, the Chronicler didn’t immediately come out. He subsequently appeared behind Harper and each of his remaining soldiers and tossed them all into created portals to locations Abby didn’t have any idea of.

Then everything went quiet.

That was honestly not how she expected things to go.

“Towards the end, I did suspect the same,” Quisilia commented, appearing behind her, sheathing his blade on a slot on his chest. “Ironic. Saved by ADVENT in a likely attempt to cripple us.”

Abby had her weapon raised, but if Quisilia could beat the _Chronicler_ of all people…granted, this had been more luck than skill, she really didn’t have much of a chance. Not how she had expected, or really wanted to go out. Still, at least it required an Ethereal to kill her, not some stray plasma bolt.

“Please,” Quisilia seemed to snort. “I can think of at least five times where I could have killed you. I wasn’t keeping you alive to taunt you at the end right before I kill you like some sadist. No,” he sniffed. “That’s too boring and predictable. There was a very specific reason I’ve left you alive.”

Abby chuckled mirthlessly. “You’re going to let me live. Really.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of disbelief.

“Oh, it’s not because you’re not my enemy,” Quisilia quickly corrected. “However, I gain more from letting you live than die. I suspect you will soon anyway, so it will all work out in the end. But I am curious, what did you make of this Chronicler’s little benefactor?” He nodded towards her. “Who I suspect provided you with what you wear now.”

Abby thought for a minute. “Why does every alien species have some interest in controlling us?”

“Ah, I can answer that,” Quisilia said lightly. “You are _independent_. That is rarer than you might expect, but nonetheless something that others simply cannot allow. Independence in this galaxy is a rare and exceptional treasure. All species eventually succumb to one master or another.”

Abby smirked under her helmet. “We seem to be doing alright. And I assume you are the special ones who are free?”

“Mmm, a complicated question,” Quisilia said, looking up as a kind of drone floated down. “I’m fortunate I had the foresight to make this thing impossible to shut down.” The machine ejected something, and Quisilia tossed it to her, which she caught. A thumb drive.

“I suspect the Commander will be interested in this,” Quisilia said. “And make sure Aegis sees that as well. Perhaps it will enlighten him to what the Imperator’s concerns are. He is under the impression that our supposed allies are…benevolent…which I’m sure even you can call into question.”

Abby narrowed her eyes. There had to be another angle to this; Quisilia was letting her go with this information for a reason, and she doubted it had anything to do with what had happened. Either it was to cause division, or more likely, create a distraction.

“None of those, but I don’t particularly care,” Quisilia reached into a pocket on his suit and pulled out a phone. “Cheap piece of junk. Of course it wouldn’t work here. Shame.” He looked up at her. “Ah, right, you’re stuck here. I supposed I’ll have to change that.”

“Wait!” Abby said. “Where did you actually send the Chronicler?”

“An unspecified point in space,” Quisilia said absentmindedly, as he tapped his phone again. “The same with his other minions. I have no idea where they are, and I’m fairly certainly I didn’t kill them. But he’ll be forced to spend time coming back to Earth, and for now he’s out of the picture. I suspect he’ll be back, and then I’ll be…well…more prepared than I was.”

He casually tossed the phone away and gestured at her. “In the meantime, I can’t teleport you back to your base, since your memories are too imprecise, but I do have a location where you can probably help out your human allies. Until next time, Agent.”

She wanted to say something else, but the air shimmered around her and she was suddenly in the middle of…some kind of military base? An ADVENT one judging by the soldiers running around. Some of them stumbled back as they saw her, and she couldn’t blame them. Gunfire and artillery shelling was in the distance, and she turned towards it.

“Hey!” A man, an ADVENT Officer called to her. “Who are you?”

“Abigail Gertrude,” she answered, thinking it was a good idea to take off her helmet. “XCOM Intelligence.”

He cocked his head. “We didn’t know we were getting XCOM support. They’re all busy in America. We won’t turn it down though, I’ll take you to the front lines.”

“Wait,” Abby interrupted. “I need to contact my superiors. You have a communication station?”

“Why?” He demanded. “We honestly need you now. We’re putting together a strike team to deal with a particularly nasty sniper. We could use you.”

Oh boy, how could she begin to explain this? “Classified,” she relented. “Look, I’ll help you but this takes priority. Let me speak to them, and I’ll join your strike team.”

She could hear the exasperation in his voice. “Fine,” he said. “But make it quick. I’ll take you to it right now.”

Abby considered asking where she actually _was_ , but that would raise more questions than answers.

She’d have to figure it out on her own.

***

_Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_11/22/2016 – 2:48 A.M._

They were becoming more and more outnumbered, and ADVENT had begun finally using their soldiers far more effectively than they had before. They had quite rightly observed Senorium to be the weaker of the two, and as a result he was under constant assault by sniper fire. Golden ichor spewed out of his throat, face, and now eye even as his regenerative body began healing.

The Battlemaster couldn’t stay beside him either, as he was ensuring the front line of ADVENT died to his slices and telekinetic grabs. But on a narrow street, he was limited in what he could do. ADVENT was behind him as well now, the front line being Gunners who sent torrents of gauss projectiles towards Senorium, seemingly calculating that there was a better chance of them hitting the aliens than one of their own.

One punch pulverized an ADVENT Officer, and he slammed the blade of his sword down on another two, severing their shoulders and driving them to the ground. The Battlemaster suddenly found himself being lifted up by two Priests from the rooftops of a house, accompanied by other Priests who extended their arms and shot corrosive psionic torrents at him.

They were getting better.

Not good enough, sadly. His armor could withstand additional punishment yet, and he gripped the offensive psions in a choking grip, before sending them flying back. The other two he simply snapped their limbs and the moment that happened he dropped back down to the ground, readying his lower hand to slam a shockwave to destabilize the soldiers around him.

He risked a quick look behind him to see Senorium getting bombarded not just with bullets, but now rockets from one of the new rocket ADVENT soldiers. They were identified as Dragoons from the initial reports, and Senorium took one rocket directly to the chest, then another, and a third one blew it apart, forcing him to the ground, yellow coating the Chosen.

The Warlock roared and attempted to stand, one arm extended to the soldiers he was facing. The front line immediately started running away, but his telepathic command did not extend to the back row. Sniper fire continued ripping into the wounded alien. The other eye was shot out. The Battlemaster thought he saw a finger become shortened.

A dilemma. He didn’t particularly care about the survival of Senorium, but at the same time, if he was killed he was now in a much more difficult position. An executive decision needed to be made, at least until he could regenerate enough to become useful. His initial plan of ‘fight through ADVENT’ was becoming more and more difficult as he knew that no matter where they went, ADVENT would be waiting.

The Battlemaster sent a telekinetic wave towards the ADVENT soldiers he’d been fighting, then psionically dashed to where the Warlock was struggling to rise. The Battlemaster jammed his sword into a corpse, and leapt briefly up into the air to perform a repulsion attack, a weaker variant, but one that was useful when completely surrounded.

He hovered briefly in the air, crossing his arms as he gathered his power, then thrust them out in an expulsive wave that leveled the nearby houses and left a large crack on the ground beneath him. As the energy was directed primarily to the sides, Senorium managed to not be as seriously affected, but it knocked the wind out of his destroyed chest.

The Battlemaster dropped to the ground, and readied his sword once again. Two hands raised, he erected two telekinetic barriers. “How fast will it take you to heal?” He demanded.

“Momentarily,” the Warlock gurgled, spitting blood. “I cannot die, Battlemaster. Even if the Humans send a thousand more, we will defeat them as you just did now!”

“I slowed them,” the Battlemaster retorted, turning to the Warlock just in time to see the flesh over his chest reform. “They are not defeated, not yet. You cannot hold out forever, even now you are tiring.”

“A momentary weakness,” Senorium tried to assure him, now looking slightly worried. “A limitation I can easily overcome.”

The Battlemaster didn’t have time to explain the concept of pacing himself in sustained combat, and ADVENT was reforming their front line. “You will stay close to me,” the Battlemaster said. “Do not stop and fight the-“

He stopped speaking as Senorium’s face slowly morphed into one of absolute terror. A UFO suddenly roared overhead and began landing in the ruins of one of the destroyed houses. The sounds of battle continued, but it was no longer directed at them, but inexplicably at each other. A madness had taken over the ADVENT ranks, with some shooting allies, and others just falling to the ground screaming and gibbering.

Of all the ones to extract him, the Battlemaster would not have suspected Isomnum.

The black UFO’s entrance barrier slid back, revealing a brightly lit interior, almost pure white emanating from it. Out first stepped the Dread Lord himself, and beside him were his soldiers, who before today the Battlemaster had only heard of. They were a mix of all alien races, even Muton and Sectoid.

Some of them wore a kind of black armor, mostly the Mutons, and others wore clothing that would normally be seen in science labs or ancient Human religions, with sleek uniforms and robes. The Vitakarians carried unhilted black blades of sorts, coated in a colorless liquid, while others of Isomnum’s soldiers carried black weapons of a design the Battlemaster had not seen before.

Even the Sectoid stood straight, no longer the little grey creature but something that had been infected with black cybernetics and-

The Battlemaster stiffened as he saw the little creature more closely. He had only seen that kind of technology from the Synthesized.

What was Isomnum doing with it _here_?

The soldiers seemed to act on unspoken orders from Isomnum himself, and began slowly walking to the ADVENT line. From what the Battlemaster observed, the most noticeable thing about the soldiers was not necessarily the wide array of species, but that all of them were apparently blinded. All of them wore some kind of blindfold, and none of them covered their faces.

“Lord Isomnum,” Senorium said meekly, falling to one knee, practically shaking. “It is an-“

“Leave, Chosen,” Isomnum commanded, the voice speaking only made the screaming in the background intensify. “Retain your sanity if you wish. You are no longer needed.”

“Yes-yes of course Lord Isomnum,” the Warlock said, standing and creating a visible distortion that acted as a portal. Once he stepped through, he vanished. Isomnum was flanked by two of his soldiers, a Vitakarian and a Sectoid. The Battlemaster could not read the Sectoid, but the Vitakarian was emotionless, somehow unaffected by the madness Isomnum exerted.

“Your assistance is appreciated, Isomnum,” the Battlemaster said, inclining his head. “We may depart immediately.”

“We will leave momentarily,” Isomnum stated, looking around and walking towards where several ADVENT soldiers lay. “I have seen your reasoning for this attack. You have _failed_.”

“President Treduant is dead, and we have shown ADVENT is vulnerable,” the Battlemaster answered. “Her attack was a surprise, but the objective was succeeded.”

“If you leave now, you will not leave them with fear, but with _hope_ ,” Isomnum practically spat. “You were outwitted by a Human. _Again_. Your _honor_ has done nothing but waste resources and time. The coddling of this species must _end_. They cannot think to attack what we have with _impunity_.”

A Muton dragged a screaming ADVENT soldier in front of the Ethereal, and Isomnum telekinetically lifted the helmet off to reveal the distraught woman before him. “Humans, Battlemaster, cannot be defeated without taking _measures_ ,” he said, gripping the woman’s chin with his finger. “The goal should not be victory on the battlefield, but to plant terror in the heart of _every_ Human who dares oppose us. Terror leads to distraction, distraction to mistakes, and their mistakes lead us to _victory.”_

The Battlemaster had known of the reputation of the Dread Lord, and now he was beginning to understand why Isomnum had been deemed too extreme even for the Overminds. “ _Fears_ , these can be simple and complex. Some are situations, others are as simple as a fear of insects. Push too much; create this image in their mind…and it will inevitably shatter.”

He looked to the Sectoid. “Go. Bring me the Venomorph and the eggs.”

The Sectoid chittered and walked off. “What are you doing?” The Battlemaster demanded. “We need to leave.”

Isomnum ignored him temporarily, looking towards his soldiers who appeared to be picking Humans at random from the paralyzed mass of soldiers. “Bring those marked to the ship.” The Battlemaster saw a couple more soldiers walk off and began binding and carrying Humans to Isomnum’s UFO.

“Captives?” The Battlemaster asked.

“Unnecessary,” Isomnum stated coldly. “Humans, like all species, have their potential. Some will serve me well, should they overcome what they fear most.”

So he was recruiting Humans for his army. Or a more accurate word was _abducting_. He didn’t know if he should stop it, but this was one area where the Imperator might override him, and this was not the time to fight, not when he still considered them to be in mild danger.

The Sectoid returned, chittering and holding up a clear vase, which had a small creature inside it. Behind the Sectoid was a Muton carrying a black box. “To answer your question,” Isomnum said, taking the vase gently and telekinetically lifting the little squirming insect out of it, before looking down at the woman. “I am completing your mission. Revelean was kind enough to loan me a prototype of his Venomorph.”

The Battlemaster only remembered a few details from the project, as he hadn’t checked it in months, or even heard about it from Revelean since. “A parasite?”

“One which grows in the host, consuming until it controls their body,” Isomnum confirmed. “And once its brain supersedes the host, it will kill and maim all around it.” He lowered it towards the woman’s mouth. “Be still, Human, you will forget this happened soon-“

He never finished as the Battlemaster severed the woman’s head from her body. “No.” The Battlemaster stated flatly. “The mission was accomplished. We. Are. Leaving.” He looked towards the box and telekinetically opened it. “Chryssalid eggs,” he spat, glaring at the Dread Lord. “Do you think so little of our species that we must resort to _terror_ to win?”

“You instructed me to assist your efforts,” Isomnum stated. “I have done so. The Humans will treat this as a victory; we can yet turn it into their nightmare.”

The Battlemaster clenched a fist and the case crumpled and the delicate balls containing the Chryssalid eggs shattered. “Your suggestion is denied. We are leaving.”

Isomnum looked up at him; as impossible as it was to read under the helmet, he suspected the Ethereal was furious, disgusted, or both at him. Not that he particularly cared. “You are weak, Battlemaster, you are why we lost before. I will be speaking to the Imperator to ensure that we do not lose a second time.”

He motioned to his soldiers, and they wordlessly began walking back towards the UFO, with the Battlemaster following him. Unfortunate that the UFO was so small, as it would be difficult to avoid the Ethereal furious at him, but it couldn’t be helped.

In the end, Isomnum was here under his request, and under his command. Even if his threat to inform the Imperator was not a bluff, the Battlemaster would not pay it any weight. It was not as though the Imperator would actually supersede his military authority.

In the end though, he was out of danger.

Now he had to figure out how to salvage this entire operation and retain what territory they had.

***

_ADVENT HQ – Switzerland_

_11/22/2016 – 6:00 A.M._

It had been a while since Saudia had stayed up all night, but in this case the adrenaline from managing the ongoing media news cycle, attacks on multiple fronts, and the uproar of foreign countries offering support and condolences, had made it somewhat easier. She literally _had_ no time to be tired, much less devote to thinking about it.

The Battlemaster had escaped, which was a loss, but considering the circumstances, it could have been worse. Had that other Ethereal not arrived, perhaps they would have killed him and that Warlock.

But putting the Battlemaster in a situation where he’d needed extraction at all had been a minor victory. It at least showed he could be trapped and eventually worn down. The attacks in California were proceeding well…but it was becoming more of a stalemate, and reports of another Ethereal in Alaska had explained why cities were suddenly falling there.

Seattle had been temporarily abandoned, again, to put into motion a new kind of guerilla warfare, which had been approved by Commander Christiaens and Weekes, so it was likely a reasonable strategic maneuver. Still, she wasn’t happy to lose it so soon after gaining it. At least South Korea was going as well as could be expected, and they would probably be able to hold out indefinitely assuming no Ethereal showed up.

The nuclear strikes over Japan and Australia had gone off successfully, and she idly wondered how they were handling that. She suspected that the Battlemaster would be working to negate this in the future, so it might as well be taken advantage of now.

She debated taking a short nap before the press conference today, where there would doubtless be more questions from the media about the attacks. Already foreign media was jabbering about the blast over Japan, and the state of the conflict in the US. For once though, they were all unilaterally focused on the alien threat, and not whatever aspect about ADVENT they chose to attack that week.

It was a refreshing change, and the attack on D.C. had been a catalyst for that. Almost every European country had either condemned the attack, or offered support, most of which amounted to little more than words…but she did wonder if it would make some of them think. England in particular had responded to the attack strongly, with the Prime Minister declaring it an ‘inconceivable and cowardly attack’. More aggressive than she’d expected.

 _“Chancellor,”_ her secretary said, speaking through the intercom in her office. _“You…have a call incoming.”_

She furrowed her eyebrows. The amount of people who were allowed to disturb her were very few. Either something had gone very bad, or very good. “Who?”

_“Best you see for yourself, Chancellor. Security reasons.”_

Which further reduced the options of who it could be. That reason was only given if absolutely _no one_ could risk even knowing the following conversation existed. She wondered if it was the aliens, calling to either insult or congratulate her. “Put it through then,” she said, standing up. “Holoprojector or screen?”

 _“Holoprojector,”_ he answered. _“Putting it through now.”_

Alien then. No one else had holotech. She moved to the holoprojector which flashed red as it booted up and displayed the figure before her.

Who, it turned out, was perhaps the last person she had expected to speak to.

 _“Greetings, Chancellor Vyandar,”_ Chinese President Qin Yijun greeted. _“I felt it was past time we properly spoke in person, or as close as can be expected from a woman of your position.”_

Well, this was an interesting turn of events.

President Qin Yijun of the Communist Party of China was dressed similar to all Chinese politicians of the country, which amounted to a simple business suit, although the red hologram distorted whatever colors it had. He was relatively young, thirty-nine and from pictures she remembered he had black hair, darker skin than normal for a Chinese man, with full Chinese facial features.

“President Qin,” she inclined her head. “I was not expecting this.”

President Qin gave a slight smile. _“While we could go through the normal diplomatic channels, I believe the current situation emphasizes speed above all else. It is time we make decisions together, not through our respective diplomatic branches.”_

“I am not opposed to that,” Saudia said. “Yet I somehow doubt you’re calling to say that China is joining ADVENT.”

 _“No,”_ President Qin said lightly, but firmly. _“We have every intent of retaining our independence. With that said, you are not our enemy, and the aliens are on our own doorstep. Their ships have been seen flying over our waters, and it is no longer in our interests to hold our forces in reserve. What I propose is simple, Chancellor, a military alliance between our governments against the Ethereal Collective.”_

While it wasn’t exactly the best outcome of this conversation, even having China at the table was a _major_ step forward, especially in the Asian theatre. “I’m glad to hear you understand the threat, Mr. President, however, I do not want you to have the wrong idea of what such an alliance would entail. We have no intention of sharing our technology with you.”

 _“As anticipated,”_ President Qin nodded. _“We do not expect you to do so, and the decision shall be mutual. This would be fairly simple initially. From what we understand of the current conflict in Korea, you are holding out but unable to push them back completely. We can provide you with enough reinforcements to crush the aliens in Korea, and send reinforcements to America if needed.”_ He paused. _“It was courteous of you to inform us of your surgical nuclear strike over Japan. It is also an opportunity. You have given an opening for a counter-invasion of the island. Your forces are occupied. Mine are not.”_

Retaking _Japan_.

That was not something she had considered as a possibility, but before then, she hadn’t had several extra million soldiers to take it over. Still, she wondered what the catch was. “In the event such an undertaking is started…” she began slowly. “The liberated territory will be returned to the surviving Japanese government and citizens, and become a full member of ADVENT. This is not an opportunity to expand your territory, Mr. President.”

 _“Considering what ADVENT is capable of,”_ he answered. _“It would be foolish to make an enemy of you. Should a liberation of Japan be successful, it will, of course, be returned to the Japanese.”_

Saudia gave a single nod. “And what of your soldiers and weaponry? It is not as ours is, I suspect. We will, of course, be willing to provide support from our special forces.”

 _“While we are certainly nowhere as advanced as your army,”_ President Qin admitted. _“We have made significant advances, and despite the…attempted intervention of XCOM to deny us the alien Dreadnought, it has allowed us to progress significantly. Do not underestimate my soldiers, Chancellor, they can fight just as hard as yours.”_

Saudia considered for a few moments. “I feel that we should discuss this in more detail. ADVENT, President Qin, would certainly be open to an alliance against the Ethereal Collective. However, this warrants an announcement in person. Would you be willing to meet in person so our branches can coordinate more effectively?”

He gave a light chuckle. _“I suspect you would not stoop to such trickery as to abduct me, and it will perhaps send the needed message that, feelings towards your government aside, this war will affect the world and our species. I will come. Ensure that your staff are ready to coordinate. I will order my forces to prepare to deploy.”_

“Excellent,” Saudia smiled. “I look forward to your arrival.”

He returned the smile, one full of confidence and cold fury. _“As do I, Chancellor. We will speak shortly.”_

The hologram dissipated, and Saudia was left alone. She quickly walked to her desk and opened a line to Diplomat Hassan. “Chief, get everyone you can assembled and prepare for a foreign delegation.”

A pause. _“Now? I can, but who is it?”_

“President Qin,” Saudia said with a grim smile. “I think the Chinese are willing to ally with us.”


	30. Downfall

 

_Blacksite 004: “Sanctuary” – Unknown_

_11/23/2016 – 9:16 A.M._

If he had not been rather pleased to be out of ADVENT territory, he would have likely found Sana’s reaction to him stepping into her Blacksite to be highly amusing. It had been brief, but he’d felt she had become legitimately afraid he was almost dead once he stepped in front of her. He didn’t exactly look like the ideal healthy Ethereal, especially with the amount of blood and gore on his armor.

His appearance had been extremely unsettling to the few patients she had in her presence, and not even her calming aura was enough to fully override that. He’d simply nodded to her and she’d busied herself with wrapping up…whatever she was doing. He didn’t know, nor did he particularly care right now. It took some time to get fully out of his armor, but he was out of it in time for her when she came in.

“What happened?” She’d asked.

“A miscalculation.” No reason to lie to her. “The Humans were cleverer than I’d anticipated. Trapped me in their territory for some time. It was not easy to escape.”

She’d begun examining him, still glancing over to him. “How did you? And why are you here?”

That was a fair question. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered coming to be checked up on since he knew he wasn’t seriously injured, but he had for a couple reasons. One was that he hadn’t fought like that in some time, and wanted to ensure he was in good condition. The other was slightly…embarrassing…but Sana, nor most Ethereals, would really judge him. “Isomnum was the one who extracted me. The brief flight back was not ideal. I’d have preferred more pleasant company.”

“Ah.” Was all she’d said. “I see.”

It was all she needed to say. The Battlemaster was well aware that the only person who Sana legitimately hated more was the Creator. Her and Isomnum were the only exception for the normally gentle Ethereal. Even Revelean and Fectorian she disagreed with on a professional level, though still respected them.

That opinion would not change if he told her of Isomnum’s original plan for the city.

But he wouldn’t unless asked. It had not happened, and would only widen the divides that existed within the Collective. He realized belatedly that ADVENT soldiers all had cameras on them. Which meant that not only would they know of the original plan, but they would also know who and what Isomnum is, and also that there were indeed disagreements and schisms in the Collective.

XCOM had likely been aware of this because of Aegis, but seeing as how ADVENT hadn’t seemed like they’d had secret intelligence, he doubted they had shared all of it, or any to begin with. Of course it was a moot point. There wouldn’t have been time to smash all of the cameras, but it was only going to be used as more, and he had to admit-legitimate, propaganda against them.

“Done,” Sana said as she finished. “Minor bruising, but otherwise you’re physically healthy. You are fatigued though, and your body clearly hasn’t been through an ordeal like that in a while. I would advise rest for at least the next week. No returning to the battlefield.”

He shook his head. “That is not up to me. If I feel it is necessary, I will go.”

Sana had apparently predicted that, and was also predictably disapproving. “Of course you will. The very least you should do is have Fectorian repair your suit.”

“That I will do,” the Battlemaster promised. “I won’t return until that is fixed. Too risky otherwise.” He picked up a datapad and began the likely unpleasant task of figuring out how to sort out the mess these attacks had caused.

“Battlemaster,” a familiar voice greeted, and the Ethereal looked up to see the Zar’Chon walking in, professional as always, even if he was greeted with the sight of an unarmored Battlemaster, which he had almost certainly never seen before.

“Zar’Chon,” he answered in return, setting down the datapad. “I presume you mean to update me on the current situation.”

“On what I can,” the Zar’Chon answered, raising his hand and a holographic list began scrolling on his palm. It was going too fast for even the Battlemaster to see, but he supposed that was what the implants were for. “The short version is that our situation is not what I would consider ‘good’.”

“Then clarify,” the Battlemaster ordered.

“Of course,” the Zar’Chon nodded. “There is some good news. The Second Guardian has reported that her advances into Alaska and Canada have been successful. Vancouver is still holding out, but I have requested additional Spectres to take it. Seattle has been largely reclaimed as well. And Quisilia has returned alive, so the incursion in Australia is handled.”

The Battlemaster fixed the Zar’Chon with stare. With all that had happened, he had almost forgotten about that incident. “You sound almost surprised by that. What was learned? Did ADVENT attack there as well?”

“No,” the Vitakarian scowled. “It wasn’t ADVENT. Quisilia confirmed that to me. We didn’t know who they were. They were definitely wielding more advanced weaponry than even XCOM. When Quisilia returned he was oddly reluctant to discuss it. He said it was imperative the two of you speak. But the situation there is contained for the moment.”

That raised many questions, not the least of which being that if it _wasn’t_ the Humans, than who could it possibly be? He was aware of the inner galactic species, but highly doubted that they had more advanced technology, or had a presence on Earth at all. They would have detected it well before now. He would definitely need to figure out what was going on in Australia. If Quisilia didn’t want to discuss it with the Zar’Chon, then…

An ugly thought entered his mind. There were only a few topics Quisilia would not share with his spymaster; that which related to internal Ethereal matters, the Synthesized, or the Sovereign Ones. Since there were no other Ethereals alive that would be fighting them, and the Sovereign Ones weren’t on Earth, then could the Synthesized have possibly arisen?

They had found remnants of their technology in hidden places in the galaxy. It was not inconceivable that the Humans…or Collective, for that matter, had accidentally activated it. No matter what the explanation was, it was highly concerning. “Noted. What else has happened?”

“We are in danger of losing California, should the situation continue to deteriorate,” the Zar’Chon finally said. “The initial train bombings destroyed much of our garrisons, even if they took the infrastructure with them. We suspect Patricia is in Los Angeles and Sacramento is also being spearheaded by another XCOM team with unexpected aggression.”

As would be expected…except. “How is that possible?” He asked. “Aren’t our soldiers being telepathically shielded?” While the Zar’Chon didn’t know the full details, he was aware that there was an Ethereal who was providing telepathic assistance on the ground to negate threats like Patricia.

“Either he is distracted or he has been subverted,” the Zar’Chon answered tactfully. “Either way, telepathy _is_ still resulting in casualties in LA. Even in Sacramento we are receiving reports of telepathic attacks. It seems to be working against the telepath Priests, but most are transitioning to support roles, which are seemingly not affected.”

The Overmind had either become much weaker or lazier if he was allowing Humans to be able to subvert him so easily. The entire reason he had requested such assistance was to be an answer to telepaths like Patricia. However, it appeared that wasn’t the case. “And where else?”

“The Mexico offensive is…not going well,” the Vitakarian admitted, pursing his lips. “The deployment of the Creator’s Assassin was less effective than we’d hoped. Against ordinary soldiers in close quarters she is excellent, so the reports say, but the problem is that she is now fighting psions and is largely behind enemy lines. We are having difficulty breaking their trench lines. The Assassin has sustained heavy damage and is recovering now.”

Disappointing news, but not entirely surprising. One psion, no matter how skilled, against other psions of a similar or greater power level would almost always lose against them. The problem was that she was quite clearly built for smaller and more surgical operations, not as an attachment on the battlefield.

He would have to make appropriate adjustments.

“Battlemaster, I would also request you recall the Hunter immediately,” the Zar’Chon continued, now looking slightly irritated. “While the Creator’s…soldiers…are powerful, I did not expect one to be a literal traitor.”

“Explain.”

“I will send you the recording,” the Zar’Chon explained, looking at his holographic list, presumably to find it. “But upon the initial encounter, he essentially said he was ‘going to kill whoever the fuck he wanted’ as following orders was ‘boring and predictable’. I am paraphrasing, but the point is that for the _entire_ attack, he has been shooting at both allied and enemy targets. He’s cost us dearly in resources in soldiers and turned the offensive in Busan into a mess.”

The Battlemaster was silent for a moment. Another bad miscalculation, but he could not have anticipated that the insubordinate Hunter would be such a catastrophic _traitor_. Although perhaps that was the wrong word, but it was producing the same results. The Hunter would have to be punished severely for this. Possibly executed.

The Creator would not like that, of course, but he didn’t especially care what she thought. If her pets disrupted his military operations, they weren’t exempted from consequences. For all the faults of the Warlock, his fanaticism at least ensured he was loyal. “Now that you’re back,” the Zar’Chon continued. “We need to decide how to respond to this.”

Indeed.

“The First Guardian will be sent to Sacramento,” the Battlemaster said after some thought. “He will kill the XCOM squad currently causing issues. The Canadian and Alaskan offensive will receive reinforcements. The Mexico forces will be pulled back temporarily as well. If needed, we will take additional measures to ensure we don’t lose California.”

“And South Korea?”

“We will maintain the offensive for now,” the Battlemaster said. “I will deal with the Hunter.”

“And Patricia?”

“I will deal with Trask myself,” the Battlemaster said, standing. “She cannot affect me.”

“What additional measures do you mean?” The Zar’Chon suddenly asked. “More Spectres?”

“Initially, yes,” the Battlemaster nodded. “And if those prove insufficient…request for enough Cleanser Ships to level their ground army. ADVENT has decided to escalate this conflict with psions and nuclear weapons, and in this case, we may respond in kind.”

“Acknowledged,” the Zar’Chon confirmed. “I would also suggest support and repair teams to Australia and Japan due to…ah, I forgot to mention that. ADVENT detonated two additional nuclear weapons above Japan and Australia. Our forces are completely disrupted.”

Attempting to take advantage of their vulnerabilities before he made efforts to correct them. The Humans understood warfare exceptionally well. In the span of a few days they had crippled or attacked nearly all of the Collective’s main installations on Earth. Impressive, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel much anger towards them. They were simply fighting intelligently and competently.

However, they were not the only ones, and if they felt confident enough to escalate the war to this degree, he would happily oblige.

“Do that,” he ordered. “How long is it estimated to repair everything?”

“Everything?” He frowned. “Critical systems within days. Military equipment and defenses, perhaps a week. Everything else likely two, and this is if we have as large a team as possible. ADVENT did this to disrupt us, so we can take our time in repairing it. They won’t be attacking Japan, let alone Australia during this time.”

“So order the teams to take their time and do it right,” the Battlemaster confirmed with a nod. “In the meantime, we will end these attacks by ADVENT.” He stood. “Dismissed, Zar’Chon, I will speak to you shortly. Now I need to speak to the Creator.”

***

_ADVENT Secure Diplomatic Site – Switzerland_

_11/23/2016 – 1:42 P.M._

Both China and ADVENT had agreed that, for the moment, it was best that the media and public not be aware of any potential alliance between the parties in the event that they couldn’t come to an agreement. Saudia personally considered that unlikely; that China was willing to talk at all meant that they were planning to work on some level, though how much that would be was yet to be determined.

In the meantime, they were holding the talks in ADVENT’s Secure Diplomatic Site, specially designed, isolated, and constructed to be out of the way and impossible to penetrate by any outside power, where high-level or extraordinarily sensitive diplomatic issues could be discussed without fear of exposure.

It was well stocked, furnished, and definitely the same quality as any building in the ADVENT HQ. The only difference was the far tighter security. The road itself was guarded by the Peacekeepers, and snipers watched the roads; ready and willing to kill stragglers or investigators who came too close. There had been several attempts by the media to investigate, but they had backed off when snipers had shot the expensive gear they were carrying.

No one was brave enough to go back, and they had correctly been smart enough not to actually report on it.

On top of the layers of physical security, it was also regularly swept for listening devices, electronic jammers, and dangerous substances. SHIVs patrolled on pre-determined routes and the basement not only contained a fully stocked armory, but a dozen MDUs to deploy in the event of an emergency.

It was also one of the first buildings to have a room specially designed for a Gateway, which would be essential for evacuation or reinforcements in such an event. It was a massive power draw, even with elerium cores, but it was what allowed the important figures in ADVENT to join in such sensitive diplomatic talks on such short notice.

Saudia had received a list of the people President Qin was bringing with him, which unsurprisingly contained his second in command in the Chinese Central Military Commission, who was effectively the leader of the military even if Qin was the Commander-in-chief, as well as his Minister of Defense and Chief of Joint Staff.

What was unsurprising was the presence of the Foreign Minister on the list, as such a diplomatic mission would need all the expertise he could gather. The final name had been a mild surprise, and somewhat amusing to her. Qin apparently felt comfortable bringing the Minister of State Security along as well. Perhaps there was a reason the head of Chinese intelligence was coming, but it seemed more of a move to unsettle her.

China had become used to having a large amount of influence in the old world. Such a move would have definitely been either a warning or threat, but China no longer had such power. Not truly. Which then begged the question of why they would even try such mind games. In any event, she could play at that game easily enough.

For herself, she had decided to have Commander Christiaens participate, as was the obvious choice, as well as Chief Diplomat Hassan. In addition to them, she’d also asked the Commander to participate, as XCOM needed to be involved in these talks, and Elizabeth as well. If he brought his own spymaster, she could certainly bring her own.

The final member she was including was the Prime Minister Sakata, or more accurately the Prime Minister in exile, of Japan. As this was his country, at least some members of the surviving government needed to be aware of the situation here. Given the history between Japan and China, this situation was darkly amusing.

But she needed to focus, as the Chinese delegation was now filing into the main meeting room where the negotiations were to take place. First came President Qin Yijung, who looked as composed as he had in their initial meeting, who was followed closely by General Cheng Zhen, Vice Chairman of the CNC, who was much older than the President himself with grey streaks in his blackened hair.

However, Yan An, the Minister of National Defense was clearly the oldest in the room. Saudia recalled his age to be sixty-two, and he certainly looked the part. The Chief of Joint Staff, Kong Qigang followed, not appearing to be especially pleased with the whole situation, but kept a firm face regardless.

Han Jie, the Minister of State Security himself followed, and of the group he stood out due to his lack of any hair, which Saudia found rather ironic for a spymaster. He clearly wasn’t going to be easily forgotten, but he did have that same calculating look in his eyes she recognized in Elizabeth, and she noted him taking stock of everyone in the room.

Finally, Foreign Minister Xuan Wuying entered, looking as every diplomat should; friendly and like he wanted to be there. She didn’t know how true that was, but this was the situation every diplomat wished for, even if it simultaneously frightened them. “Chancellor,” President Qin greeted, extending a hand. “A pleasure to meet you in person.”

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. President,” Saudia replied evenly, taking the firm grip. “I hope our discussions are productive.”

“Quite,” he agreed, looking around at the other guests. Foreign Minister Xuan had already gone to greet Prime Minister Sakata and already the groups were forming around the respective mutual positions. Elizabeth was already chatting with the MSS Director, and both generals were conversing with Laura.

She figured it couldn’t hurt to let everyone mingle some, as few as they were, before getting down to business. “Ah,” Qin suddenly said, pursing his lips. “Commander. A…pleasure to meet you in person.”

The Commander looked almost smug, but simply inclined his head. “I’m pleased China is considering rejoining the effort against the aliens.”

“We haven’t forgotten the true threat,” Qin said evenly. “On that I can assure you.”

“And I haven’t forgotten that you like stunts like pulling out of the only anti-alien organization fighting because you didn’t get your way,” the Commander answered, just as evenly. “But I suppose all of us have our regrets.”

That was not how she wanted this to go.

“The differences between XCOM and China, no matter how grievous at the time,” she interrupted. “Do not matter now. China was hardly the only one who had issues with XCOM, Commander, as I’m sure you know.”

“Indeed,” the Commander gave a thin smile. “I do have to admire you following through on your word, disagree with it as I may. A government with a spine was somewhat rare.”

“In retrospect, it might have been handled differently,” Qin finally said. “The issue, Commander, was never your methods nor past, distasteful as some may find it, but your lack of willingness to communicate important information. Had we been aware of EXALT operations in our country, we would have happily assisted in destroying them.”

The Commander’s lip twitched. “To a certain degree, I agree. However, we had no way to know if your government was compromised by EXALT. Had we warned you, any moles you had would have sent warnings and we would have accomplished nothing.”

“It is the actions of a rogue organization,” Qin said slowly. “One which, at the time, answered to a higher authority. If not us directly, perhaps someone on the Council who you could trust. But as the Chancellor said, it is in the past. We are willing to overlook this incident if you are.”

The Commander gave a smile. “I don’t hold a grudge, as long as you’re willing to assist us now. But our raid was certainly justified, even if you continue to disagree. I suspect that had I not done it, we may not be speaking right now.”

Saudia kept her face completely neutral at that little jab. _Funny, Commander, very funny._

“I believe we should get started,” she said, as everyone began moving to their seats. “There is an operation still going on and time is of the essence.” All of them were soon seated on the ornate glossy wood table, ADVENT representatives on one side, and Chinese on the other. She sat at the end, with the President seated right beside her left, and the Commander on her right.

“We’re all aware of why we are here,” Saudia began. “Right now there are soldiers dying to retake America. Commander Christiaens and the Commander of XCOM believe this important enough to focus their attention on instead of the battles raging now. Mr. President, please state the reason for this meeting.”

“Certainly, Chancellor,” he nodded towards her. “Your soldiers are to be commended, Commander Christiaens, as are any who fight against the alien threat. We have kept to ourselves for a variety of reasons, but ultimately, this is a war even we cannot stay out of. The Communist Party does not believe it is beneficial for either China or ADVENT to have an adversarial relationship with the other. We are different, yet that does not mean we are unwilling to work together.”

“Indeed,” Foreign Minister Xuan echoed. “We admire what ADVENT has been able to accomplish over the past months, and while we are not, nor will we have an interest in joining, there is little reason to sever diplomatic relations entirely. This is why China is willing to form an initial military alliance with ADVENT, and XCOM of course.” He nodded to the Commander. “To fight against the alien threat. Should that prove beneficial, we could extend that to other sectors as well.”

“It is important for you to realize that we understand the threat that this world faces,” Qin continued again. “Too many countries now are refusing to assist either out of fear of ADVENT, or in some vain hope that will save them. They will never act until they are, or have been directly harmed in this fight. Much of Europe is insulated from the threat, which I suspect plays a large role in their neutrality.”

“We have also been left alone,” General Chang added. “Initially, we were relieved. However, it has quickly become apparent that this is by the aliens plans. To them, we are not a threat. They are relying on us retaining our neutrality even as we prepare to fight them. But eventually, they will turn their focus towards us, and if ADVENT is destroyed, there is no hope for China, much less our species.”

“And this is the catalyst for this meeting,” Qin finished. “The time for neutrality has passed. China will not be remembered as a nation of cowards who did nothing while aliens fought our species. It is time to enter this war, and as ADVENT is the only force willing to fight, it is prudent to ally to defeat our enemy.”

Fine words from the Chinese. Saudia also suspected this was also partially to ensure that China remained relevant, and probably more likely, a means to acquire more alien materials they almost desperately needed if they wished to advance. Ideological reasons were nice, and they likely believed such words to an extent, but the Chinese were a practical people.

They saw the writing on the wall. If ADVENT died, so did they.

They were running low on materials. Such materials could be acquired through combat.

They saw Europe, Africa, and parts of South America refusing to get involved. This was their chance to emerge as the last remaining world power with some semblance of influence.

It all boiled down to politics. But that was what the world revolved around. Who could be the most convincing and offer the most reward. She could work with that. “We echo your sentiment,” she finally said. “A military alliance, while not the greatest move of unity that China could do, is nonetheless a powerful statement, one I believe the aliens will not know how to handle.”

“There is a reason China is referred to as a sleeping dragon,” Minister Han said with a slight smile. “It takes much to fully awaken us, but when enraged, little can stop us.”

“Then let’s get into details,” Laura said, leaning forward. “Words are nice, but if you really are intending to fight the aliens, we need to know if you actually know what that means. It’s one thing to read reports, another to witness it in person. Are your weapons even powerful enough to hurt the aliens? Can your soldiers survive against even one plasma blast? How does the PLA measure to the aliens?”

“We have broken through gauss weaponry, and have been producing it ever since designs have been finalized,” General Yan answered. “Our weapons are, at minimum, perfectly capable of hurting the aliens. Alien alloys are difficult to acquire, so we’ve had to improvise by simply working with reinforced Kevlar and experimental body armor. Little compared to yours, but is nonetheless an improvement over the original.”

“Our strength is in numbers,” Cheng stated. “At this moment our military is over two and a half million soldiers. We have much of our civilian populations working to fortify cities and produce more equipment. We have the capability to boost our numbers to over five million nearly overnight, should it be required.”

“And gain a multitude of inexperienced and undertrained soldiers,” the Commander noted. “A draft is useful for numbers, but numbers alone will not win this war.”

“Ultimately, you are likely correct,” Cheng answered. “But for now, numbers will be enough to end the fight in South Korea and storm Japan. Our support from our warships and air forces will additionally supplement our forces. As well as any ADVENT forces you wish to deploy.”

The news of the Chinese armaments was not surprising. Saudia would have been more surprised if they were only using conventional arms. Everyone was making improvements, and the Chinese were no exception. However, from the wording, these were likely the quite literal Chinese knockoff gauss weapons. Cheap and easily produced, but sub-par in most ways.

Given their history, she would not have been surprised if they’d stolen a gauss weapon, reverse-engineered it, and made a worse version so they could mass produce it. They weren’t above stealing designs when they needed to.

Or maybe they hadn’t. That would have been a good way to get annexed, and China probably didn’t want that risk.

“That is not necessarily an advantage, at least in a proposed liberation of Japan,” the Commander continued. “This is almost certainly going to draw the attention of an Ethereal. I don’t know which one, but all of them are far beyond ordinary soldiers.”

“Indeed,” General Chang nodded. “Which is why we need to have contingencies for each one known. Even we have identified these aliens as the leaders, and the death of one is worth any number of soldiers. I believe they can be beaten, provided we are smart enough to figure it out.”

“On that I agree,” the Commander nodded. “They most certainly can be beaten. It is a matter of planning and preparation. But you understand that many will die to see this accomplished. Your soldiers are not ADVENT. Against an Ethereal, they are on a suicide mission.”

“That is completely understood,” Chang said. “But to die for one’s species and country is not something to be overlooked.”

“Good,” the Commander nodded grimly. “As long as you understand what you are proposing.”

“Now there is another question that needs to be raised,” Qin said after a moment. “We will be doing the majority of fighting in Japan. It is fair that we receive the same majority of resources gathered.”

Saudia shared a look with Laura, who nodded. “That is fair,” Saudia agreed. “We would not expect you to fight and not receive some of the materials which remain. However, there are certain things we will not allow to fall into foreign hands.”

Qin’s brow furrowed. “Such as?”

“Anything psionic,” Saudia began. “As well as any unidentified technology or aliens. Live prisoners we will also take into custody, as well as any Ethereal or Sectoid bodies.”

“I can understand Ethereals,” Xuan said slowly. “They are, after all, rare and unique. But simple Sectoids?”

“Yes, any psionic species is under our purview,” Saudia answered firmly. “Intact computers we will also have a priority on, although China will not be excluded from them. Anything else recovered we are willing to allow China to have.”

“How generous,” General Kong said dryly. “Allow us to have the common spoils while you gather what really matters.”

“This is true,” Qin also noted. “While I can certainly understand your…reluctance…to allow anyone other than yourselves to use psionics, this is not conductive to diplomacy, and ultimately, all it will do is inspire an arms race that might backfire. Even if we do not develop psionics, there are still criminal elements in this world that _will_ eventually learn it. And they do not respect agreements or treaties.”

“It is not quite so simple,” Hassan pointed out. “The truth is, I do not believe that you quite understand the extent of psionic powers. This is not something that you can just weaponize without consequences. It is as much for your own protection as controlling the usage of psionics.”

Cheng snorted. “How patronizing. If ADVENT can manage it, I’m certain we can as well.”

Hassan gave a knowing look to the Chinese delegation. “ADVENT is a…special case. It was designed to have multiple redundancies and legislation regarding psionics was in place before the first Priest was deployed. Those with power have a healthy respect for this power, and understand the implications of it. I am not certain you do though.”

He nodded towards Kong. “You may, ironically, bring about your own downfall. While you give the illusion of unity to the world, you are aware of the factions and power plays in China. Perhaps some even in this room now. Have you considered what would happen if one or more people hostile to the government acquired psionic powers? How many of your soldiers are truly loyal, or just putting up a facade so they aren’t punished?”

Qin furrowed his brow. “We would, of course, take precautions, much like you have, I presume. This power would obviously be shared carefully.”

“With respect, I am skeptical,” Elizabeth interjected. “You may be able to keep it out of the hands of civilians, or even soldiers. But I am…acutely aware of the fact that not everyone in your government is on the same side. Including a not-insignificant portion who supports ADVENT integration.”

Han smiled. “Your agents serve you well, spymaster. But you are not the only one who can disseminate misinformation.”

Elizabeth maintained her own smile. “Certainly not, but my point is that psionics is a time bomb for you. You are not united as we are, and you know too little to implement appropriate precautions.”

Saudia nodded. “This is ultimately not up for discussion now. There are certain pieces of equipment and bodies that we cannot afford to let fall into foreign hands. This is, as we have explained, for your sake as much as ours, as we cannot afford additional threats. Simply put, we do not have enough of a strong relationship to trust you with such a power. If my some miracle, psionics didn’t cause an implosion of your government, you would now be an issue for us.”

“And if we had a stronger relationship?” Xuan asked slowly.

“Then all I can promise is that we would perhaps consider a limited program, overseen by us, of course,” Saudia answered slowly. “But we are not there yet, and will not be for a long while.”

“Still, in doing this now, you are effectively ensuring that China will forever be behind you if we do not follow your demands,” General Kong said, some anger in his voice. “That is not acceptable.”

“Then join ADVENT,” the Commander interjected. “Because that is the only way you will have what you wish.”

“The Commander is correct,” Saudia nodded. “I will be perfectly honest with you: China, or any foreign power, will not, nor ever, reach a point where they directly threaten us. I fully plan on uniting this world under ADVENT, Mr. President, preferably diplomatically, but that is not my only option. Those who resist will, as a result, eventually find themselves falling behind. We are willing to ally with other nations, but we are under no obligation to assist your own efforts. In the end, ADVENT is the only voice of Humanity that matters, and that cannot compromised.”

There was some silence at that. “While harsh, Chancellor, you are at least honest on where you stand,” Qin said with some dark amusement. “And lesser materials is better than none at all. But we will not be bullied into joining ADVENT, even if that means we are hindered at every turn.”

“That is acceptable,” Saudia nodded. “In which case, if you are still willing, we should discuss the finer details of the liberation of Japan.”

“Indeed,” Qin laced his fingers together. “Let us begin.”

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_11/23/2016 – 6:18 A.M._

She’d apparently traded one battle for another.

As far as Abby had been aware, South Korea hadn’t been under attack before Australia, but considering the current status of the war in North America, this had likely been in retaliation for such an attack. Made sense, and by all accounts ADVENT had been holding pretty well, disregarding the taunting alien sniper.

The question now was how the hell she was going to explain what had happened to her without ADVENT getting suspicious. It was unlikely, but she didn’t especially think ADVENT should be aware of what happened quite yet. This was something for the Commander to deal with. Which meant no transferring the video on the flash drive Quisilia had given her.

She’d checked it out on her own to make sure it was real, and surprisingly enough, it seemed to be. Had she not been there, and thus, couldn’t exactly be amused by what happened, the HD footage of Quisilia getting blown into a wall would have made her smile.

Still, even with psionics existing, some things were unbelievable.

_Yes, see the person I was working with is apparently working with some entity that can blow Ethereals around like pinballs and has blue psionics. He also apparently wants to control our species as well. So when he was distracted by a nuclear explosion overhead, an Ethereal memelord pushed him into a portal which opens up somewhere in space, gives me this video, and teleports me here._

_What? No I’m not crazy!_

Abby shook her head. Aegis would probably know more about this than her, or at minimum at least the Commander would be able to make sense of it. She was in the base communications room, which while somewhat basic, was more than sufficient for her, and she could easily connect to the Praesidium from here.

It took a few minutes, but it was beginning to connect. She supposed the battle might have some effect on signal speed. She was in her armor still, minus the helmet. For one, it was comfortable enough that she didn’t feel the need to really take it off, and two, she was in a warzone and didn’t want to die here of all places.

 _“This is Central Officer Jackson,”_ a voice greeted. _“Agent Gertrude, glad to hear from you. Though…I thought you were in Australia? What is the status there?”_

Abby sighed. “Complicated. I need to speak to Zhang immediately. Be sure this is encrypted. Even then I really need to give this report in person.”

_“Copy, where are you now?”_

“Busan, South Korea.”

A pause on the other end. _“Alright, transferring you now. This sounds like a story.”_

“I’ll tell you later if you really want it,” Abby smiled grimly. “Although it isn’t a very happy one.”

There was a click, and Zhang’s gruff voice answered. _“Agent Gertrude. Report. There have been…many developments. Was the Australian operation successful?”_

Oh, boy. “Not…exactly. Sydney sustained heavy damage, but the Chronicler, and most of his army, are gone. Quisilia was there and was the one who survived his attack and prevented the city from being destroyed.”

 _“I see,”_ Zhang sounded suspicious. _“How did you escape?”_

Abby winced. “The short version is that our mutual Twitter memelord teleported me out.”

The silence was either in disbelief or Zhang was just stunned. _“While I am glad you are alive…please explain why Quisilia would do that?”_

“He said he had more to gain from me being alive than killing me,” Abby explained. “And the Chronicler was not who he appeared to be. He was apparently acting as an avatar of sorts for some kind of entity. Quisilia seemed to know what it was. Do you know what a Sovereign One is? You might want to ask Aegis.”

 _“A Sovereign One?”_ Zhang’s voice became more intense. _“Are you certain those were the words?”_

“Certain,” Abby nodded. “Quisilia was also kind enough to give me a recording of the entire fight. I’ve verified that it’s legitimate. I don’t know what he wants, but I need to get this back.”

 _“And this Sovereign One, it was against Quisilia?”_ Zhang demanded.

“Yes,” Abby said. “I wouldn’t get too excited though. It doesn’t seem exactly…benevolent to our own species. It warned the Ethereals away specifically because it wants us…well, I have the recording.”

 _“Strange.”_ Zhang said after a few moments. _“You need to return to the Praesidium as soon as possible.”_

“I will,” Abby nodded. “However, ADVENT is having an issue with an enemy sniper here. I’ve agreed to assist them. Once that is taken care of, I’ll return.”

 _“You cannot afford to die now,”_ Zhang stated. _“What you know raises serious questions. No matter what, that cannot be risked.”_

“I’ll make arrangements to have the drive transferred to XCOM should I die,” Abby said. “But I’m not leaving until this is done. I already said I would help, and that’s what I will do. If Quisilia wanted me to escape, I’m not going to squander that. Taking out a few elite Collective snipers would be sufficient repayment.” She looked down at her armor. “And the armor and weapon I have from the Chronicler are…well beyond what even XCOM has. I think I’m fairly safe.”

 _“Fine,”_ Zhang said with clear annoyance. _“There is too much happening to debate this with you. I will be sending a skyranger to extract you and when it arrives, you are ordered to board it, whether you’ve done your part or not. Is that understood?”_

“How much time is that?”

_“Six hours, minimum.”_

“It’ll have to be,” Abby nodded to herself. “I’ll speak to you soon then.”

 _“Good luck agent,”_ he said. _“And do your best to stay alive.”_

***

_Mars Observation Station, Communications Center – Mars Orbit_

_11/24/2016 – 10:16 A.M._

The Battlemaster was not wearing his full battle suit, but his original one that he would use until Fectorian finished repairing the new suit. Visually they looked so similar he doubted most beings would notice one way or another. But now it was time to make the Creator reign in her pet, since he’d been unable to actually contact the Hunter despite sending multiple calls.

It was highly likely that the Hunter had destroyed it, since it didn’t even allow an opportunity to leave a message. If he thought that would be enough plausible deniability to save him, he was sorely mistaken.

So the Creator would have to deal with him for now, although he certainly intended to punish the Hunter afterwards. Though to what extent he still hadn’t decided. That largely depended on what the Creator did. She would likely not be pleased with his antics, and he might consider that punishment enough.

The hologram before him materialized into a shape he didn’t expect. Instead of the Creator, there was instead a figure cloaked in an open black robe, hood down, with black light garments underneath. Strapped to the waist of this being was a dagger of some kind, but aside from that there were no other weapons.

The figure itself was otherwise what most would consider disturbing. It was a Vitakarian…or so the Battlemaster assumed, even as it looked very irregular to standard ones. The flesh, instead of being a shade of grey, had deteriorated to a chalky white. The body itself looked somewhat shriveled and gaunt, and yet the eyes seemed to glow a brighter blue than normal.

There were odd markings on the skin too; brands of some kind it looked like. The Battlemaster could clearly see them, especially the prominent ones on the forehead and cheeks, but he couldn’t even begin to figure out where they were from, which was…odd. While he was no linguist, he could usually identify from what species such runes, languages, or markings were from.

But he had never seen anything like this. More oddly, all the markings were interconnected and when he looked, seemed to form some kind of outline on the face of the Vitakarian. He didn’t even know if they were words or symbols. He had not expected the Creator to be branding her subjects of all things, or resort to such gibberish, for that had to have been what this was.

The figure just stared at him. He supposed it awaited a response. “I need to speak to the Creator,” he stated. “Inform her I am waiting.”

 _“The Creator is busy,”_ the figure responded in a raspy voice that somehow had undercurrents of authority underneath it. _“You may leave your request with me.”_

The Battlemaster was somewhat surprised. It was rare that any alien outright refused him, let alone one that looked half-dead. “This is a time-sensitive matter. I will speak to the Creator _now_.”

 _“You will speak to her when she is available,”_ the being repeated flatly. _“No sooner. No later.”_

The Battlemaster paused. “Are you aware who I am?”

The Vitakarian cocked his head, appraising him with blazing eyes. _“You are the Battlemaster of the Ethereal Collective. This is known to us.”_

“Then consider this an order,” he repeated. “I will speak to her _now_.”

 _“She cannot be disturbed,”_ the Vitakarian repeated. _“It is imperative she maintain her full-“_

“Let me be clear,” the Battlemaster interrupted, lowering his voice and speaking very slowly. It appeared the difficulty the Hunter was posing was not a fluke. What was the Creator _doing_ that she thought ordering her thralls to refuse an _Ethereal_ was a good idea? “I do not have time to debate with you. I will speak to the Creator, or I will arrive at the Blacksite itself and kill everyone inside and destroy whatever project your Creator is working on. You have thirty seconds to comply, and I will not ask again.”

He was _almost_ hoping the creature would continue to be stubborn. It would allow him some opportunity to relax and he had wanted to stamp the Creator down for some time now. This was simply more evidence of her delusions, and the Imperator had given her entirely too much freedom and not enough oversight.

The Vitakarian was silent for a few moments, head cocked at the same angle, as if listening to something only he could hear. Then he suddenly straightened. _“Please wait, Battlemaster, I will return shortly.”_

How nice that the decaying Vitakarian was cooperating now. This was not what he needed to deal with; not when there was still an entire military operation to sort out. The good news was that the Creator knew he didn’t make idle threats, and thus he was expecting her to arrive relatively soon, regardless of how ‘important’ her project was or not.

Sure enough, several short minutes later the Creator appeared before him. Upon seeing her, he realized that it had been an extremely long time since he’d actually bothered communicating beyond reading reports. She looked very different, and it wasn’t surprising since it had been years even seeing each other in person. It wasn’t atypical for her, as she had become more and more isolated as of late.

Doing what, he could only guess at. But if even some of the rumors of her Blacksite were true, it was nearly as sickening as the crimes of Isomnum’s past. Yet the Imperator had decreed she be allowed to work in peace, and he had decided to respect that. But now, he was quite sure that might have been a mistake.

The Creator was clad in grey underclothing similar to that worn by Macula, and in fact had the pockets and linings filled with various vials, cutting utensils, and other micro-tools for precise genetic sculpting. Over that, however, she wore an open variant of an Overmind’s robe, one which was pure white. More curiously, the Battlemaster also saw the strange markings all over her robe and clothing. Not on the skin though, which he was halfway surprised at.

Yet it did raise questions. Just from that, he knew that something had been going on for some time and that he didn’t have the faintest idea of what it could be was a bad sign. Another problem of the Collective to solve later, all he needed now was for her to assist him. The Creator jabbed one of her gloved fingers at him. _“I do not expect you to understand what you interrupted, Battlemaster, but I will not tolerate it-“_

“Enough,” he growled, raising a fist. “Your projects and opinions do not come before the needs to the Collective. I. Do. Not. Care. You would also do well to instruct your assistants to be more respectful-“

 _“They did exactly as I ordered!”_ She retaliated angrily. _“I do not appreciate threats, Battlemaster, no more than you appreciate them to your underlings. I will be speaking to the Imperator about your gross misuse of your-“_

“Your test subjects are in no way comparable,” the Battlemaster stated flatly. “And you are less important to this Collective than I am, and as of right now, one of your pets is disrupting a major military operation. Your Hunter. Recall him immediately and deal with him as you see fit. Once you finish, send him to me.”

The Creator stared at him for a few moments. _“Is that it? Did you dare interrupt me and threaten my work for that!?”_

“Yes.” The Battlemaster did not like her genuinely infuriated tone. She had truly become more unstable. “Recall him now. This is not a request.”

 _“And what is he doing?”_ She demanded. _“Is he simply not being a good little soldier?”_

“He is disobeying orders and firing on Collective soldiers,” the Battlemaster said. “If you really wish for details, I will inform you later. But this must be done now.”

She chuckled. _“In that case, I am afraid I cannot help you. I could, of course, send my own to extract him, but I do not see the need. Certainly not for a few unenlightened aliens. If he wishes to return, it will be of his own prerogative or if the Humans…”_ she paused. _“Or the Collective, stop him.”_

The Battlemaster didn’t believe that. “You would never set something like him loose without a means of restraining him.”

 _“And if I did, I would certainly not use it to satisfy you,”_ she growled. _“You have wasted my time, Battlemaster. Do not presume to trouble me again or there will be consequences.”_

She disconnected.

He was, quite legitimately, shocked at the sheer disrespect and arrogance she had displayed. Not even Isomnum was so dismissive or unhelpful. There had been a major mistake in letting her work unchecked and now she believed she was untouchable. That she was above the concerns of the Collective.

In which case, there was only one thing he could really do. He opened a channel to the Zar’Chon. _“Yes, Battlemaster?”_

“Recall the Assassin to the Observation Station and give her a new target,” the Battlemaster commanded, looking onto the projections of space where Earth was still spinning. “She is to kill or capture the Hunter. Give her whatever support she needs.”

 _“It will be done,”_ the Zar’Chon assured him. _“In the event that she captures him, what should be done?”_

“Bring him to me, if I am here. Imprison him if I am not,” the Battlemaster ordered. “If he speaks too much, cut out his tongue and repeat that as many times as necessary.”

_“Understood, Battlemaster.”_

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_11/23/2016 – 6:32 A.M._

There was good and bad news that Duri could visibly observe as the battle kept going forward. The good was that, aside from the persistent and taunting Hunter, the aliens had largely been unable to actually _do_ anything to them. Every minor advance they made was pushed back my storms of gauss slugs and artillery, and snipers were continuing to decimate their back ranks and more delicate equipment.

As a result, it was almost inevitable that it would lead into the bad news, which was that the aliens were retreating to a point outside effective fighting range. Even Beatriz was saying it was difficult to get a solid target, although the retreating aliens did have to expose themselves as they retreated, giving ADVENT some briefly vulnerable targets.

“Question,” Cara said after she fired another burst from her M2. “If they get out of our artillery range, can’t we just bomb them?”

“Probably,” Duri answered, dusting off his rifle. “Although they probably would get shot down. I don’t think we know if they have AA defenses up.”

Beatriz snorted. “Do they _look_ like they have any?”

Duri gave a wan smile under his helmet. “Good point.”

 _“That’s a good suggestion,”_ the Hunter suddenly interjected. _“ADVENT, please send bombers out there to blow these disappointing aliens away. I’ll be sure to leave a few to do the job.”_

He could hear the scowl in Aleksandra’s voice. “Found alien air defense.”

Duri almost rolled his eyes. The Hunter, for whatever reason, had apparently liked to listen in on his squad, as well as rotating through other squads. He wasn’t exactly flattered by the attention, since he suspected the Hunter was going to end this by killing one of them.

 _“Aww, I’ve never been called that before,”_ the Hunter gave a raspy chuckle. _“I like you. You’ll live today.”_

“Go fuck you, чуждый отброс.”

All that was returned was an ugly chuckle. Duri didn’t have a good feeling about what would come next. “Aleksandra-“

She suddenly lurched forward, dropping her rifle as her left hand seemed to burst into fragments of bone and bloody chunks. The normally stoic Russian screamed in agony and slumped to the wall, clutching the bleeding stump of her hand. “Nobuatsu!” Duri shouted to the medic as he and Beatriz immediately rushed to help her.

Duri lowered her to the ground while Beatriz helped remove her helmet as she was breathing heavily, all the color having drained from her already pale face. _“Cheeky Human,”_ the Hunter chuckled. _“Just because I find you amusing doesn’t mean I can’t make you hurt a little. Be a little more careful or next time, I might take off something a bit more vital.”_

“This’ll only take a moment,” Nobuatsu told Aleksandra as he began spraying the stump with a medkit. “We’re getting something to carry you out of this.”

“He’s behind our line!” Beatriz snarled in revelation. “That’s how he’s able to shoot us!”

“At least for now,” Cara interjected. “We should probably let someone know about that.”

More ADVENT medics arrived, along with another soldier that didn’t seem to be wearing anything standard-issue. It looked more stone-like than what Duri had seen before. Either a new kind of unit, or maybe…XCOM? He didn’t know right now. “Not needed,” Aleksandra managed, standing up with Duri’s help, as she saw the stretcher. “I walk.”

Nobuatsu seemed to take a few moments to see if it was worth the trouble to argue it, then shrugged and motioned for the medics to follow them. “Fine, but if you collapse, you’re getting on there whether you like it or not.” He put a supportive hand on her shoulder and they quickly walked off to the better medical facilities behind the front lines.

“Take off your helmet,” the figure wearing the strange armor ordered, a woman it turned out. “He’s listening on the channels.”

Duri nodded silently and complied, and the woman did the same thing. She looked fairly young, short blonde hair, and attractive Caucasian features. American or European, clearly. However, her eyes were the hardened ones of a veteran, looks he’d only seen on the ones of his superiors or people who’d experienced tragic events. It looked wrong on someone so young.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Abigail Gertrude,” she answered. “XCOM Intelligence.”

He raised an eyebrow. What exactly was XCOM Intelligence doing here, and as far as he could tell, she wasn’t especially blending in. And why would XCOM send an intelligence agent to a warzone? That wasn’t their forte, if he remembered right. Still, any XCOM soldiers were better than none. “How can I help?”

“I just need some information,” she nodded to the now-bloodstained area which Aleksandra had occupied. “I’m working with some ADVENT personnel to remove this Hunter. The shot came from behind, correct?”

“It appears so,” Duri nodded. “Her hand was below the firing slit,” he motioned to the stained alloy trench defenses. “The only way he could hit that is from behind, or to the side. Of the two, one seems much more likely.”

Her lips moved to a humorless smile. “Excellent. Thank you, Officer. Should all go well, you won’t have to worry about him for much longer.”

Duri gave a single nod. “I hope so. Make it painful.”

Some amusement sparked in her eyes. “If I can, it won’t be an easy death.”

She put her helmet back on, and marched away. Duri turned back to the largely quiet battlefield that was interspersed with staccato gauss bursts. The Hunter had gone silent, and hopefully he was moving back to the alien line where he belonged. However, he doubted that he was going to go down so easily.

If there was one thing he’d proven, it was that he was brazen enough to believe he could shoot behind enemy lines without consequences.

Duri hoped that XCOM agent would prove him very, very wrong.

***

_The Island of Hawai’i - Hawaii_

_Operation: Kamehameha – Day 3_

_11/23/2016 – 10:56 A.M._

The final offensive on Hawaii had finally begun. The aliens, at least from what Sierra had seemed to observe, were pretty much running scared when they realized just how much ADVENT was committing to this attack. The aliens were seemingly retreating and only leaving a skeleton army to put up a token defense for the more valuable units to retreat.

Didn’t stop her from killing every single one she’d seen.

However, it did look like they were going to make Honolulu one which forced a concentrated effort from ADVENT. On one of the carriers, with Ted and Anna behind her, Sierra observed the final obstacle standing in their way of reclaiming Hawaii: The Honolulu fortress.

Not only were their AA defenses installed into the various buildings, and a short alloy wall with the remaining Mutons, interspersed with some new kind of augmented Mutons, which from experience, Sierra could say were much more difficult to kill than standard ones. There were also Cyberdisks floating and already firing at them, as well as Sectopods on the streets.

“Bad news,” Ted said. “There is at least one Gatekeeper there. Even I can sense it.”

 _“Can confirm,”_ Carmelita added. _“Definitely a Gatekeeper there. Looks like this is the last stand for them though. Mostly cannon fodder and mechanical units too big for Gateways.”_

Well, Sierra suspected that those numbers would going to be culled after the first volley from the warships. Carmelita, and most of the ADVENT forces were holding back until the initial barrage was over, and now that ADVENT had air superiority, when the artillery hit, there wasn’t going to be anything to stop them from having air support.

“And here it comes,” Anna said gleefully as the weapons of the ships turned to the city. They fired with thunderclaps and bangs; dozens of ships firing in unison at the alien fortress, without fear of collateral damage or missing. The effect was immediate, and Sierra saw buildings begin crumbling, aliens dying, and explosions in the city itself.

This continued for some time, and the aliens seemed helpless to stop the barrage, and ADVENT seemed content to keep firing until the front line of alien defenses was nothing but scrap metal and rubble. “Gatekeeper is still there,” Ted updated, stepping forward. “Probably hiding if it’s smart.”

 _“All forces are cleared to engage,”_ Admiral Walter commanded. _“Cleanse the island of these aliens!”_

“With great pleasure,” Anna said, raising her rifle. “Seraph?”

“You heard him,” Sierra nodded, switching all communication to helmet comms. “Let’s go kill some aliens.”

She activated her jets, angled herself towards the island, and blasted forward. On the way she did one final check that everything was working. Probably not needed, but she had nothing else to really focus on as the majority of initial defenses had been destroyed by the barrage. _“Cyberdisks on approach,”_ Anna said, as Sierra saw the flying disks in the distance. They almost seemed confused, not sure where to target first as the list of targets approaching was overwhelming. _“I want to try something.”_

“Off you go,” Sierra acknowledged as Anna boosted forward towards one of the Cyberdisks, while she readied her flamethrower for the other ones. Ted’s arms glowed with purple energy as he also prepared to fight whatever was left. Anna pulled a turn that the Cyberdisk couldn’t follow and was close enough to grab one of the barrels of the machine.

She thrust upward and tossed a grenade into its innards, then boosted off. It exploded in a ball of white and orange, while Sierra unleashed her flamethrower on the other floating Cyberdisks. It was somewhat ironic that something so simple as fire was the largest weakness of this armored enemy. The aliens would have to fireproof these if they ever wanted to fight an Archangel in the future, and live.

Ted was continuing his own barrage of psionic energy against the Cyberdisks, and as it turned out, psionics had a similar effect to fire in that it destroyed all the vital components that were foolishly exposed when the Cyberdisk was open. Sierra didn’t know how long it took, as they literally flew circles around the Cyberdisks, and the alien forces on the ground were already occupied with the invading ADVENT and XCOM forces.

As the last Cyberdisk fell, Sierra quickly looked down at the city to see ADVENT forces swarming over it like a black horde, and near Pearl Harbor was Carmelita and her squad. Fitting that the stronghold of the aliens was destroyed by XCOM. But her job was only to assist where needed, and now they had free reign to attack wherever they wanted.

“Pick your targets,” she ordered as they swooped down closer to the battlefield itself. “Save important resources for high-priority objectives.”

 _“Copy that,”_ Anna confirmed, right before she briefly landed in front of a trio of Mutons, executed them with her autorifle before they were aware she was there, then blasted back up into the sky. Ted disintegrated another team of Mutons, the psionic energy eating into the aliens until there was nothing left but scraps of flesh and armor.

Sierra preferred taking a more direct hand in helping, by flying towards ADVENT positions and then landing behind the alien lines before either shooting them in the back or roasting them with a flamethrower burst. It made her smile to hear the cheers and whoops when she showed up, because they knew that the aliens facing them were dead.

And she made absolutely certain of that.

How long they fought like this, she didn’t particularly know. A couple hours most likely, and with their kill counts reaching levels she had never really thought she would attain. That was, of course, before she had an armored suit that could fly. And a few partners to help her out. _“Archangels,”_ Carmelita suddenly interjected. _“We could use your assistance now. We’ve found the Gatekeepers.”_

Plural. That was not good. “We’re on our way,” Sierra confirmed, redirecting towards where Carmelita was. “Anna! Ted! Behind me!”

Her two Archangels quickly formed up behind her, and a few minutes later they were over where the battle against the Gatekeepers was taking place. The two hybrids of flesh and armor were supported by some of the augmented Mutons, and luckily the Gatekeepers were in their shells, and content to fire their yellow lasers.

The XCOM soldiers were backed up by several dozen ADVENT soldiers and Priests, and the combined fire seemed to be keeping the Gatekeepers from getting closer. The XCOM psions were continuing to use their abilities as much as they could, but as Ted could attest to, the closer a psion was to a Gatekeeper, the more difficult it was to concentrate enough to use them.

Carmelita was firing her alloy cannon behind cover, although she seemed to be looking for an excuse to charge forward, but was held back by the danger that the Gatekeepers posed. However, the Archangels did not need to have that problem. But first the Mutons had to be dealt with.

Anna pulled out several Thermite Grenades and tossed them towards the augmented Mutons, while Sierra and Ted continued firing at them from above. The Mutons didn’t make any noise or signal pain as the thermite ate into them, but it was enough for the combined firepower of the two of them to take several more down.

 _“We’ve got Purifiers coming up,”_ Carmelita updated. _“Keep them distracted a little longer!”_

More ADVENT soldiers died to another beam from the Gatekeepers, and one of the white spheres decided to charge forward, only to be stopped by one of the telekine Templars, Pall, if Sierra remembered correctly. All of them focused their firepower on the Gatekeeper, and when Pall was finally unable to maintain the hold, it retreated; smoking, dented, and blackened from the firepower of the Humans.

Sierra winced as one of the plasma shots from the Mutons clipped her shoulder, but it was only a scratch, and she could withstand several more shots there. “ _Here they are,”_ Ted motioned to the four Purifiers who were walking up, orange fire within their weapons almost begging to be released. The aliens seemed to realize they were dead the moment the Purifiers raised their weapons.

They attempted to fall back, but it was futile.

Within moments the entire airfield area the aliens had occupied was engulfed in the fiery embrace of Chlorine-Triflouride. The Mutons fell to the ground, the metal that was apparently keeping them together melting and fusing to the ground. Although maybe it was simpler than that, as their flesh melted off them as well.

The Gatekeepers emanated some kind of scream that even Sierra could hear, before they exploded from the fire that seeped through the cracks of their segmented covering. Although it was more accurate to say that one exploded, and one just fell to the ground, shell mostly intact as it leaked grey fluid.

The Purifiers swept their flamethrowers over the area a couple times, before ceasing the torrent and stepping back. All of ADVENT seemed to stand and watch the flames crackle and spread, further consuming the alien body parts that remained. _“I wish I had a camera now,”_ Anna said wistfully beside her. _“These kind of memories are worth preserving.”_

 _“Take some stills from our armor cams,”_ Ted suggested. _“I think we have a few days worth of usable material here.”_

Anna chuckled. _“All we need to do now is start our own XCOM card line.”_

Sierra only smiled at their banter. And with that, it seemed, the final obstacle was destroyed. Hawaii would soon belong back to ADVENT. And she was going to be there when they raised the flag once more.

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_11/23/2016 – 10:11 A.M._

“He’s on this side somewhere,” Abby told the leader of their small strike team. Kwok Yeong-Gi had two other Lancers accompanying him, Tae-Hyun and Eun-Won, as well as two Winged Hussars from North Korea, Hin-Sang and Soo-Hyun. However, his main weapons were the Priest trio, all of whom were fairly powerful, and now that they knew the general area the Hunter was operating out of, they could likely begin working.

“I will need protection,” Myo Young-Ja, the Magus Protopriest Telepath ordered. “Once I touch his mind…he might realize we are coming after him. He will likely try to stop us.”

“Then begin,” Na Yong-Chol nodded, raising a hand and all of them were suddenly under a psionic dome. The telepath extended one hand forward, his eyes likely closed under his helmet as a slight distortion surrounded his figure. The Winged Hussars had also fallen to one knee, looking through their scopes for any sign of the alien.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Min Eun, the final Priest in the triumvirate noted, nodding to her particle weapon. “It doesn’t even look XCOM.”

Abby looked down at the grey stone-like weapon. “It technically isn’t. Let’s say that this is…very experimental.”

Min tapped her own chest. “What’s the figure supposed to be? I can’t really make it out?”

Abby knew she was talking about the strange symbol on her armor, which she’d also noted on all of the Chronicler’s soldiers as well. She hadn’t figured it out either, and she was debating it being a hieroglyphic of some kind, or a depiction of some kind of creature. “It’s alien,” she finally said. “We’re…not completely sure what it means yet.”

“Ah.”

“So once we locate him, what do we do?” Tae asked Yeong. “If he detects Myo, I doubt he’s going to stay in one place.”

“Unlikely,” Yeong agreed slowly, pressing a button on his wrist. “However, I have three artillery teams standing by once we have his location. He doesn’t need to stay long. Just enough for us to level the building he’s residing in.”

“And what if it’s a hospital or destroying it hurts us?” Eun questioned.

“Then we do this the hard way,” Yeong said. “Snipers don’t do well under pressure. Whoever he is, I doubt he can withstand a telepath for long.” He motioned behind him. “And we have two more to keep him under control.”

“Capture or kill?”

“Capture if we can, kill if it’s not possible.”

“Copy.”

They waited for a few minutes. “I have located the mind,” the layered voice of Myo stated. “Subtler than I was expecting. He is definitely a psion, and I have avoided direct contact.”

Yeong nodded. “Can you break through? And how powerful is he?”

“I can likely occupy him,” Myo answered. “He does not appear to be powerful. I cannot determine his species, but it is not an Ethereal or Sectoid.”

“Wait…” Abby furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s a psion…but supposedly not from an actual psionic species? It isn’t a Human, you’re sure?”

“Positive,” Myo assured her, hand lowering to his side. “And yes, he is definitely not a Sectoid or Ethereal.”

“This is probably one of those isolated psionic aliens,” Abby said. “You’ve seen or heard of the Warlock, right? That isn’t the only one. I’ve fought another one in Australia, an assassin of some kind with similar abilities.” She looked towards the buildings. “This sounds like another one. We can’t underestimate it. These things seem to be impossible to kill.”

“Then this will be the first,” Yeong stated, giving her an approving nod. “I appreciate the information. Myo, where is he?”

The telepath pointed towards a rather nondescript building some ways behind the ADVENT line, a small five-storied building that didn’t seem to be containing anything useful. “I don’t see anything,” Soo-Hyun said, looking through her scope.

“He probably has cloaking, and I doubt he’s on the roof,” Abby guessed. “But that doesn’t look important.”

“No, I don’t believe it is,” Yeong said, turning to Myo as he was tapping on his wristpad. “Myo, lock down his mind on my command. Keep him in place until the artillery hits.”

“I’m ready when you are,” he nodded, nearly imperceptible barriers surrounding him once more. Yeong simply nodded, and after a few tense minutes, he finally turned to the telepath.

“Do it now.”

The moment he spoke that, missiles streaked towards the building and it lit up in a series of spectacular explosions. The ground rumbled as the building collapsed and rubble fell to the ground. “Move forward!” Yeong ordered, and the soldiers began dashing towards the collapsed building. Myo stayed in place, still presumably assaulting the Hunter.

 _“He’s stronger than I assumed,”_ Myo grunted. _“But it seems all he knows is defense. I can’t get much from him, but he’s still alive and he can’t move far.”_

The rest of the ADVENT forces had cleared out as they approached the dusty rubble, the streets clear of any distractions of equipment, as ADVENT had made sure to have as swift of access as possible throughout the city. Abby saw something on the roof of a nearby building, almost seeming to mirror their motions. She glanced up and her blood froze.

The figure vanished into thin air and then reappeared on the ground, a short distance in front of them. “Look out!” Abby warned, raising her weapon as all of them skidded to a stop. “It’s another one of them!”

The Assassin suddenly looked in their direction, almost as if she hadn’t seen them there until now. Her blade was suddenly in the hand of the lithe figure, and raised in a mock approximation of what Abby had seen the Battlemaster perform before combat. The Assassin wore the same armor as before, and appeared to be none the worse for wear despite her encounter with the Chronicler.

“You are here to kill my brother, yes?” the Assassin rasped.

Yeong stepped forward cautiously. “We are. And you as well if you threaten us.”

A low rumble emanated from the Assassin. “You would die. The XCOM soldier can attest to this. I was not expecting her here…and not wearing _that_.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Abby said, also stepping forward, weapon pointed at her. “What are you doing here, Assassin?”

“The same thing as you, I presume,” she answered, not wavering in her stance. “The Battlemaster is displeased with the idiotic actions of my brother, and I am to return him to the Collective.”

“We’d prefer to kill him,” Yeong suggested. “I don’t suppose treason is punishable by death?”

“You cannot kill him anymore than me,” the Assassin stated flatly. “My mission is not you. You can either help me here, and I leave, or you fight me and I kill all of you before completing my mission.”

“How can we trust you?” Tae demanded.

She was suddenly blasted back, and Abby saw a good chunk of her head simply…gone, presumably from a headshot. Their weapons turned towards the source of the gunshot, and they saw their first glimpse of the Hunter.

The figure was of similar size to the Assassin, although not quite as thin. The grey armor he wore was also similar, some kind of alloy plating over another alloy underweave. The symbol present on the Assassin’s chest was also engraved on his own. Unlike the Assassin though, a hood covered his head, and underneath it was a mask that was designed in such a way as to almost be smiling. The eye slits were lit with a bright blue underneath, but the helmet didn’t seem to be that heavy.

In his hands was the largest sniper rifle Abby had ever seen, which looked like it could easily be her height. At his side were strapped several pistols and a blade of some kind. He stood over the rubble of the building, but it didn’t look like he’d been particularly hurt by the artillery.

“My _dear_ sister, consorting with Humans,” the Hunter tsked, chuckling as he appeared to reload his rifle. A psionic shield suddenly appeared in front of them once it turned their way. “And yet _I’m_ the bad guy.” Another chuckle. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

The Hussars locked their own rifles on him, although the psionic barrier made it impossible to fire them yet. “So, Humans, you _really_ think that you can actually fight me? Your telepath is annoying, but he’s…let us say he doesn’t know who he’s fighting. My mind is my own, and it will not be violated by a mere Human. Find me if you can.”

The Hunter suddenly vanished from sight. “Myo, where is he?” Yeong ordered, even as the psionic barriers stayed in place. “Forget breaking in, we just need to know where he is.”

 _“Just as well,”_ Myo answered. _“I can’t break in. He shouldn’t be this strong. Give me a moment.”_

A growl caught their attention, and the Assassin stood back up, a chunk of her helmet missing. “Traitorous sibling,” she spat. “You will pay dearly for your insolence, _brother_.”

“How the fuck…” Yong-Chol said quietly.

“Like I said,” Abby sighed. “They seem impossible to kill.”

The Assassin suddenly teleported a few feet over just as another shot hit the ground she’d been standing. “Stay down, sister!” The Hunter demanded, as he materialized on the third story of a nearby building. “I don’t like being interrupted.”

She blinked from their sight, and materialized in front of the Hunter and swung her blade towards him. He jumped back with surprisingly nimbleness and fired two rounds point-blank into her armor, one shattering the armor and the second going straight through her. “Fire!” Abby yelled to them. “Shoot him now!”

Abby fired her particle rifle and the Hunter slid to the side as the blue beam hit where he’d been. Shots from the Hussars did manage to hit him, and he stumbled back, just as the Assassin materialized behind him. Almost as if he predicted the move, he slammed the butt of his rifle behind him, knocking her off-balance before dropping the rifle and pulling out one of his pistols and firing several shots behind him without looking.

With his other hand he reached for his other pistol and fired down at them. “Ah!” Jin-Sang fell backward, blood seeping from shots from his throat. Abby didn’t know how he could pull off such a shot with a _pistol_ , but he had done it easily, and was returning to the wounded Assassin who was struggling to recover.

He scooped his rifle up again, just as Min yelled and yanked backwards, and the Hunter went flying out towards them. A shout of anger reached her ears, and the Hunter somehow then used that momentum to control his fall and the moment he landed, he fired at Min and her head exploded into shards of armor and flesh.

“Do you _really_ think I’ve never fought a psion before?” He chuckled in malevolent glee, reloading his weapon even as the rest of the soldiers fired. He leapt to the right and Abby saw that she needed to do something, so she did the last thing he would expect – she charged.

That got the Hunter’s attention, and he pulled out one of his pistols while holding his rifle by the barrel. She kept firing her own particle rifle, and when it hit, it easily tore through the armor and he negated that by continuing to move and fire at her. But unlike the other soldiers, her armor stood strong against the projectiles of the Hunter.

She _felt_ the impacts, they made her stumble and came close to knocking the wind out of her several times, especially those to her head and chest, but she was still standing and closing in on the alien. “The fuck is _this_?” He demanded, as much in admiration as frustration. “Now that just isn’t fair.”

The Assassin materialized beside him and sliced down, and the Hunter, assuming she was aiming for a vital organ, moved back but she had anticipated that, and instead she sliced off his right arm. The limb holding the sniper rifle flopped to the ground, and the Hunter snarled in pain and fury. “Cheap shot, bitch.”

The Hunter suddenly tossed something towards the Assassin which she swung to deflect, but instead it exploded into a swarm of nanites that began coating her. “Tell the Battlemaster to come himself if he’s really displeased,” the Hunter snarled, punching more holes into his estranged sibling. “You’re clever, sister, but you’re no Battlemaster.” He sneered as the alien screamed as the nanites kept eating into her. “I’m guessing since you’re here your little mission to Mexico didn’t go as planned. You’re just another one of the bitch’s unthinking tools-“

A direct shot to his head sent him stumbling back, and Abby followed up with firing her particle rifle at it. She missed, but the slug from the Winged Hussar had apparently penetrated the helmet, and directly into the eye of the Hunter. “Gah!” He scowled, aiming his pistol at them. “Good shot! Serves me right for monologuing. But like my lovely sister…I can’t die.” Abby could easily imagine the smirk under his mask. “Sorry to disappoint. But I’ve put up with your distractions long enough.”

He began firing at the soldiers, but was blocked by a psionic barrier. “Cheaters,” he condemned lightly. “Not to worry,” he turned to Abby. “You’re an interesting one. I think bringing you back with me might make the Battlemaster a little less angry.”

“I don’t think so-“ Abby began, before the Hunter lowered his pistol and shot her leg, and this time she felt the projectile tear through her skin. She collapsed to the ground, pain shooting from her kneecap.

“Took me a few shots,” the Hunter said, slowly walking up to her. “But there isn’t an armor I can’t pierce. Everything has gaps, even yours. So don’t put up a fight, and I won’t blow out your other kneecap.” He holstered his pistol, and reached down with his only arm to reach for her particle rifle. “And this-“

Abby gave a weak smile as the wires interjected themselves into him the moment he picked it up. The Chronicler had warned that no one but her could use it, though he hadn’t specified why. But that became readily apparent as the weapon exploded in his hand, blowing him back into the street, his entire arm and part of his side simply _gone_.

The Hunter groaned, and struggled to get up, though that wasn’t easy with no arms. And now another figure stumbled toward him. The Assassin had recovered, even if the nanites had reduced her armor to scraps and exposed her facial features as those resembling something oddly like an Andromedon.

“You will _wish_ that this is the worst pain you can feel,” the Assassin hissed, as she planted her blade in the Hunter’s chest, or what was left of it, while she pulled out a small curved knife. “Because once the Battlemaster finishes with you, you will be judged the Creator.”

“Heh,” the Hunter gurgled, spitting some blood at her. “Let them. I will not die today, or ever-“

The Assassin grabbed him by the chin and made two quick cuts at the corners of his mouth, before prying his mouth wide open. Abby winced, but didn’t look away as the Assassin worked the blade in his mouth before finally tossing aside a tongue before hoisted the armless alien over her shoulder.

“Your assistance is noted, Humans,” she said, walking away. “We will meet again, but it is unlikely to be as allies.” With that the air simmered around her and she vanished, leaving them alone. Abby heard one of the soldiers rushing to her side once it was gone.

“We’ll get you medical help,” she heard Yeong assure her. “Don’t know where you got that weapon, but I think that’s the only reason we’re still alive.”

“Probably,” Abby winced, knowing that now they wouldn’t get a chance to research it. “I guess it’s a good thing only one of those aliens was against us.”

“Yeah,” he spared a look to where the furious battle had taken place. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Invincible beings. It was unnatural.”

“You probably won’t believe me,” Abby said as she let herself be hoisted up and hopped on one leg. “But I think that was the second-most dangerous recent experience.”

Yeong shook his head as he helped her walk. “I had thought it would be interesting to be part of XCOM. If what you do is like that, I think I’m quite happy where I am.”

“You’re smart,” Abby gave a pained chuckle. “I think you should try and stay that way. Smart and alive.” She glanced behind her and her eyes widened as she saw the Hunter’s sniper rifle lying on the ground, in the hand of the severed arm.

“Hey,” she said. “Can someone bag the rifle and body parts? I think XCOM R&D would like to take a look at that.” Yeong nodded, and motioned for the rifle and body parts to be picked up. Well, even if she didn’t bring back a particle rifle, the insanely destructive sniper rifle of the Hunter was probably a suitable alternative.

And likely one they would be able to actually replicate. And Vahlen would find the limbs of these aliens useful as well.

All things considered, it could have turned out much worse.

***

_Los Angeles, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 3_

_11/23/2016 – 11:01 A.M._

It just wasn’t _working_.

Patricia had tried nearly every single technique she could think of to put what the Imperator had revealed into tangible action. But it was a problem of visualization. It was a problem of actually putting such commands into such a small, yet understandable format. She just couldn’t _think_ on such a small scale.

It was like trying to think about things from the perspective of a cell. It just wasn’t comprehensible for rational minds. Ironically, an insane person might actually be able to do this better, since they didn’t see the world in a rational, logical manner. And that was frustrating to her, not because it was _impossible_ , but because it just tantalizingly, infuriatingly, just out of her reach.

She _knew_ she was close to figuring it out.

But time was running out. She couldn’t just stay up here forever hitting the same roadblock over and over again. People were counting on her. People were dying while she played the psionic manipulator.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked into the city. Not as much progress as ADVENT would have liked had been made. The aliens were fortifying their positions deep within the city, and had been using newer units such as the Replicas and Fectorian’s enhanced soldiers. Even some Spectres had been deployed, though techniques and methods from other groups, specifically from Geist, had at least managed to turn substantial losses into some kind of tradeoff.

Still, the Spectres killed more than they didn’t, and the aliens were being smart and giving their dead to the nanoweapons, and essentially turning one Spectre into four hundred. The good news was that they were being designated as priority targets, and Purifiers and Priests immediately focused on them whenever they showed up.

Yet it was only a matter of time before they became overwhelmed.

And she just _didn’t_ have what was needed today. If she could affect the living, they could win. But she couldn’t, no matter how much she tried.

In fact, she was now wondering if this was simply a means of the Imperator distracting her. The technique was sound, but perhaps only Ethereals could do it, and for everyone else it was a waste of time. That would be infuriatingly smart, and would explain why he kept bothering her.

“No, you can certainly perform it,” the Imperator answered her unspoken question, materializing beside her. “I am not petty enough to waste your time on an impossible claim.”

“Welcome back,” she said with some mockery, as he had basically disappeared for most of a day, and only now had decided to reappear. While it was nice not to have his voice in her ear, she had, for some reason, almost missed his company. Maybe it was that the mystique of such a powerful being was slowly undone the more they spoke.

The Imperator, despite being their enemy, did not seem evil. Or at least no evil than anyone else. Just on the opposite side. And even now he was more of a spectator than anyone actually invested. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel about that. There was a piece, a motivation here, that she was just missing.

The Imperator seemed to be using everyone in this conflict, ally and enemy. One was put up against the other; both were tested and pushed to their limits. Vital knowledge was given to any side, either to prove a point to others, or simply to see if it could be done. The Imperator _did_ have some goal besides idle chatter, but nothing Patricia could think of completely _fit_.

“You are getting _closer_ ,” the Imperator said, gesturing out to the city. “I suspect you would eventually understand it. Knowing what to strive for is a major part of any ability of this magnitude, yet I fear that your time is running short. The Battlemaster is planning to end this attack, and kill you in particular. You, nor any soldier, can stand against him. Not yet.”

“We almost killed him once,” Patricia reminded the form of her doppelgänger. “We almost killed him again in D.C. Of all your Ethereals, he is most certainly _not_ the invincible one.”

“And with that attitude, you will be another of his victims,” the Imperator mused, stepping forward, hands clasped behind the back. “There is no such thing as _almost_ killing a Battlemaster. All you have done is made him stronger. For each weakness you expose, he will fix it. Every flaw is one that he will mend if exploited. You cannot keep _almost_ killing him, for all you will do is inevitably make him invincible.”

Patricia sniffed. “That’s a long time. And I doubt he’ll stand against a nuke.”

The doppelgänger turned to her with a smile. “And tell me Patricia, are you willing to nuke this city to kill him?”

She was silent. “I do not blame you,” he continued. “Yet he can be driven back. But you must act now. I can give you what you want. I can give you the _perspective_ you need. My offer has not changed. It is a simple exchange of knowledge, nothing more or less. On that you have my word.”

“And how do I actually know that?” She repeated, the same objection coming to her as before. “You are more skilled than me. I’m not sure I’d notice if you put something in my head you shouldn’t have.”

“You certainly think highly of yourself,” the Imperator commented, the smile maintained. “And how, exactly, do you know that I _haven’t_ been doing that this entire time?” He swept a hand out in front of him. “Patricia Trask, as I’ve explained before, I have little interest in turning you into an unthinking pawn. Manipulating your mind in such a way I find insinuates that my words and reasons are inadequate, and ultimately, wrong. One should not have to resort to mind tricks and such…” he paused, searching for an appropriately descriptive word. “ _Cheating_ , to make a point or change a mind. Some do not bother, of course, but I am not one of them.”

He extended a palm to her. “I am offering to help you. Assume your rightful role in this galaxy. All organic life is subject to the will of beings like us. It is time for a Human to join those ranks.”

It all came down to a question: Did she trust the Imperator to be telling the truth?

The answer was surprisingly clear.

She reached out and took the offered hand. The Imperator smiled. “This will only take a moment.”

There was no noise, no sudden flash; very rarely was reality so dramatic, she was finding out. But it was, in its own way, just as momentous. It was as if the puzzle pieces, guesswork, and experimentation suddenly fell into place and she _understood_. She knew now where she’d been going wrong.

It was indeed a problem of perspective. She’d been so tied to her own viewpoint and perspective that envisioning anything on a higher or lower scale was extraordinarily difficult for her to do. She was rigid in her thought patterns and perspective, and now that barrier was just _gone_.

She closed her eyes and extended her mind outwards into she found the first alien mind she could. One protected by the Overmind on the surface, but she simply looked deeper; simpler; _clearer_ than she ever had before. Gone were the easily translated words and images, and replaced with pulses and simple binary commands that the brain processed millions of times every second.

The sheer volume of work the brain was capable of was one she could have spent hours marveling at, yet such a simple realm was now her own. She grabbed and observed the pulses, seeing where they were directed and what information they contained. It took time, it could have been minutes or hours, but she eventually began to map out the functions that the brain controlled.

Breathing. Pumping blood. The heart. The nerves. Even the deepest biological functions she had access to. Now all that remained was to exercise her power over it. And now her old methods could be applied in a different way. She simply changed the pulses to contain a different command.

In this case, it was simply to shut the brain itself off.

The moment the command was given, she was back into the present, with the Imperator looking at her knowingly. “And that, Patricia, is only a fraction of what you can do. You have the knowledge. Now _use_ it to dominate them.”

Patricia gave him a grim smile. “You will likely regret this.”

“I don’t think so,” the Imperator returned the knowing grin. “I have done exactly what I needed to do. The rest…that is up to you.”

Patricia returned her focus to the battlefield in front of her, putting thoughts of the Imperator to the side as she began to do as he apparently wished. The aliens alive now were at her mercy, and she was no longer going to hold back. The Imperator was right about one thing.

There was no reason to be apologetic about using her power.

If it resulted in the unsavory deaths of aliens, then that was simply an unfortunate price to pay in this war. But there would be no mercy today.

The aliens would die. All of them.

***

_Sacramento, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 3_

_11/23/2016 – 12:42 A.M._

The good news was that they were still alive, and in fairly good condition. The bad news was that they weren’t making much progress.

Despite finally getting reinforcements from ADVENT, the aliens were finally employing enough defensive tactics to hold ADVENT back. That, and they’d been far more liberal in their usage of the Spectres. Multiple offensives have been slowed to a halt once one showed up, and even with Geist sharing his tactics, they didn’t always fully work.

The aliens had also been sending a much higher ratio of aliens to their now-commandeered fortress, which had been under constant assault for…the past day? Nuan didn’t really remember, only that she had fallen into the pattern of moving, shooting, reloading, and repeating that. There were more Spectres, but those were immediately targeted by Geist before they could get very far.

The alien captives had been taken away, luckily, so there was no chance of those being lost. ADVENT had some, but Geist had ensured that XCOM took the ones he deemed the most important. Nuan didn’t know what they meant, since she hadn’t been involved in that deal, but it really seemed like the aliens wanted their fortress back now.

There were more of those mechanical Muton Elites, and even with the Goliath firing at them, the mass of enhanced and standard units was reaching critical levels. Nuan scowled as she took down one of the augmented Vitakarians, and then ducked down as a hail of green plasma shot her way, and continued unabated until a purple barrier appeared between her and the aliens.

“Thanks,” she called to Iosif who just nodded before erecting another barrier in front of some other ADVENT soldiers. She dashed to another place along the wall, and found herself on one of the corners, which did have some plasma turrets which ADVENT had repurposed. They were manual emplacements and given that Nuan had seen a concentrated barrage destroy a Sectopod, XCOM _really_ needed to get working on plasma tech.

It was also the corner where the heaviest fighting was taking place, and thus, Geist was in the center of it. The man would never admit it, but even Nuan could tell he was getting tired and his concentration was stretched to the absolute limit. Now the man looked rather annoyed, even as he maintained three different barriers in front of hunkering soldiers.

“Need help?” She asked, reloading her weapon.

“Quite likely,” Geist said, sounding more of an admission than anything. “It appears the Overmind, or whatever Ethereal was protecting the soldiers, discovered what I was doing. Unfortunate, but it was unlikely to last forever.”

“What’s your plan?”

Geist eyed the mass of approaching aliens, a group of no fewer than twenty Spectres leading them. “Unfortunately, I think we’re going to need to call for help.”

Nuan glanced over at him. “Who?”

“The Archangels have been causing trouble for the aliens across the city,” Geist answered, pressing a button on his wrist. “And right now, we need a destructive Leviathan right here.”

There was only one Archangel Nuan could think of that fit that description. “Hammarström?”

“Hammarström,” he confirmed, raising the wrist to his mouth. “Seraph Hammarström, I request your assistance at my position. We have a severe alien overpopulation issue.”

 _“Wow, it must be bad if you’re calling, Geist,”_ Viktoria Hammarström answered. _“On my way now. So what’s the situation?”_

Geist walked to the edge, one barrier maintained in front of him as he appraised the situation. “I would estimate two hundred total enemies, with a minimum of twenty Spectres. They largely have the northern positions, and we are holding everything below that. I suspect more are in, or behind the buildings.”

_“You care a lot about the buildings?”_

“No. Raze them to the ground.”

_“Got it. Hope ADVENT doesn’t mind the mess.”_

Geist raised one eyebrow at that. “They would rather have a captured damaged city than retreating from an intact one.”

 _“That was a joke, Geist,”_ she snorted. _“Seriously, you’re going to kill someone over a misunderstanding one day.”_

Geist did not look amused. “Please do your job, Seraph.”

All he got in return was a laugh before she clicked off. It sounded like they’d spoken before, although Nuan didn’t know when that would have-

“In the Training Arena,” Geist answered her mental inquiry. “As a Leviathan, she provides an excellent means of testing my own abilities. She is trustworthy and is capable of doing as I requested.”

Well, so apparently Geist had people on a scale of trustworthiness. Lovely. She somehow doubted she was high on that list. “You are correct,” Geist nodded again. “As a Chinese operative, your split loyalties do not contribute well to an organization like XCOM where our loyalty should only be to our species. The Chinese have not proven-“

“Oh, shut up,” Nuan growled, really, _really_ wanting to punch him in his smug face. “Do you _really_ think that we don’t care about our species?”

“You are an appeasement to the Commander,” Geist said coldly. “Or rather, a peace offering. You are not a spy, but your loyalty is ultimately not with XCOM. That makes you untrustworthy from a practical standpoint.”

“We’ll see what the Commander has to say about that,” Nuan growled, turning away and ready to shoot some more aliens. “I’ve put up with your garbage for long enough. You’re no leader, and certainly not someone who should be a squad overseer. Have some respect for your soldiers.”

Geist fixed her with an icy stare. “You don’t need to tell the Commander anything. We have more important issues to focus on.”

It took a second, but she had to admit he was probably right. Any issues she had could be figured out after the battle was over, and maybe she was making things seem worse in the heat of battle. “You’re right,” she said almost automatically. “We have more important issues to focus on.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “I’m glad to hear it.” A roar overhead reached her ears, and Nuan looked up to see an Archangel streak overhead. “And it appears Viktoria has arrived.”

The Archangel hovered in the air, purple energy consolidated around her, and after a bright purple pulse, she extended a hand downwards to the alien line, and the entire battlefield exploded. It looked to Nuan as though a storm composed of nothing but purple lighting had descended upon the aliens. It was a blanket that covered it so completely and densely that she could barely see into it.

The Archangel swept her free hand in a semi-circle and the storm expanded further back. The buildings caught in the maelstrom first didn’t do anything but blacken, and the more delicate aspects of them were torn to pieces. Cloth was disintegrated, cars fell apart, glass shattered, and stone blackened and cracked.

The storm suddenly rose higher, until it engulfed not just the ground, but the very air that rested in the territory controlled by the aliens. The buildings were similarly engulfed, and after a few minutes of the purple storm, they fell apart as if only held together by poorly-glued stones. One fell, than another, then one by one, and the storm extended far enough that Nuan was almost sure it was a mile or more. At least five or six blocks.

Then as if a switch had been flicked, Viktoria let the psionic fire fade and the maelstrom almost died immediately. Nuan looked in amazement at the aftermath. The storm had essentially eaten away at several inches of the ground, no alien corpses were anywhere to be seen, the ground was blackened and the buildings were now reduced to small scattered stones.

An entire section of the city had just been completely razed. Geist hadn’t been exaggerating.

The psion looked towards the Archangel. “Well done, Seraph Hammarström.”

The Archangel gave a mock salute before speeding off, presumably to destroy something else. The battlefield was eerily quiet for once. The first it had been in some time. “We have a reprieve,” Geist stated. “Get some rest, everyone. They’ll be back. And if they aren’t, we will advance forward. Even if we destroy half this city, we will take it for ADVENT.”

His words were met with some cheers and whoops. Nuan also couldn’t help but feel emboldened by what she had witnessed. But she did wonder just how far they could push the aliens before they felt the need to hit back twice as hard.

She had a feeling they were going to find out what that meant.

***

_Los Angeles, California – United States of America_

_11/24/2016 – 1:01 P.M._

The Battlemaster did not like waiting so long to actually respond to threats, but Fectorian repairing his armor had forced it. In the meantime, he’d brought in enough Cleanser Ships to drive ADVENT back, and attempt to mitigate the ground damage as much as possible. The Hunter had been brought back and was currently regenerating in a very secure cell.

He would be dealt with after the battle was over.

However, now he had to figure out exactly how the Overmind was being subverted by not one, but _two_ Humans. Patricia was obviously one of them, but he was not aware of the other. The First Guardian would likely deal with whoever it was though, and the Overmind appeared to have learned about the interference as the telepath wasn’t affecting his forces much.

Although that flying Archangel psion was another problem that was almost as bad.

Not his concern, currently, as the situation in Los Angeles had somehow gotten stranger. The Replicas seeded throughout the lines noted that the soldiers seemed to be suffering strange biological ailments. Some began throwing up, some suffocated to death. Others keeled over, and preliminary reports showed that their hearts or brains had just…stopped.

And it didn’t necessarily kill either. Some just collapsed bonelessly to the ground, and the medics hadn’t been able to figure out how, except for a far-out theory that all their nerves and muscles had just stopped working. No one knew what was going on, except that as a result, ADVENT was getting dangerously close to taking the city.

And now he needed to put a stop to it.

 _“I have located the primary center of XCOM forces,”_ the voice of a Replica updated as he stepped through a gateway. _“GOLIATH-class MEC trooper. Accompanied by two XCOM soldiers. Sending coordinates and directions.”_

The Battlemaster received the information, and immediately transmitted it to the Cleanser Ships. “Begin orbital bombardment of all ADVENT forces outside this position. I will handle the ones remaining.”

 _“Acknowledged, Battlemaster,”_ one of the Andromedons answered. _“Bombardment will begin momentarily. Transmitting target coordinates for reference.”_

The Battlemaster flourished his blade and began dashing towards the center of XCOM activity. Along the way he passed dozens of Collective soldiers who had died without having a shot fired at them. He had only seen something like this…centuries ago, back in the War. This was a technique that he had only heard of Overminds performing.

While not a telepath, and such powers were useless against him, he had been required to know how it worked and the capabilities such a psion posed militarily. And this was a technique that, if he recalled correctly, hit lower brain functions and targeted the physiology of the targets themselves, effectively bypassing standard psionic defenses and supposedly extremely difficult to actually prevent.

What he didn’t understand was how a _Human_ had been able to figure this out. The technique was so difficult, he presumed, because a psion had to not only figure out how to send commands on that level, but also conceptualize and envision something on as close to cellular as could likely be imagined.

Many Ethereals, if they were not master telepaths, couldn’t even begin to master that, although admittedly, actual investigation into such a usage of psionics had only really developed during the war, so perhaps that would have changed. But for a Human to learn it so quickly…it was unsettling. He felt there was something else going on that he wasn’t aware of.

However, if all went well, Patricia would die today, along with any XCOM soldiers accompanying her.

He encountered a group of ADVENT soldiers engaged with several Cyberdisks, and immediately dashed forward, slashing with his sword and decapitating half of them, before telekinetically grasping the other ones and snapping their spines. He barely glanced over to the corpses, since more soldiers faced him; surprised shouts and backpeddling punctuating their movements.

The ground suddenly began shaking as yellow streaks rained down from the skies and the Cleanser Ships began their bombardment. Unlike D.C. though, it was not just one or two volleys, but now a continuous barrage into the designated areas. Explosions punctuated by screams of pain in the distance indicated the bombardment was having the intended effect.

In the meantime, the Battlemaster continued his bloody path forward. As with D.C., he did not bother taking his time killing the soldiers, and focused only on the most effective attacks. Most of the time they didn’t know they were being attacked before he killed them. Instantaneous deaths were preferable, and he distributed them liberally.

He did not know how much time had passed until the Goliath came into view, but during that time the bombardment had not ceased, although it was now moving to other parts of the city. They were fighting a Sectopod and more Cyberdisks, although the Goliath was proving to be more than enough to handle even them.

However, the Goliath had never faced a Battlemaster before, and it never would again.

He was faced with the interesting prospect of fighting something that was actually larger than him, but it wasn’t insurmountable by any means. One of the XCOM soldiers shouted a warning as he dashed forward, though didn’t get another word out before the Battlemaster telekinetically snapped his neck.

Another hand thrust out and sent another XCOM soldier and nearby ADVENT soldiers flying back before the Battlemaster turned his full attention to the Goliath who had now moved to face him. The MEC began firing at him with the railgun weapon, while slots opened up on the shoulder that immediately shot missiles his direction.

The Battlemaster had two options: Dodge or catch.

He skidded to a stop, planted his feet and created a telekinetic field to catch all the rockets and projectiles; once all were caught, he sent them back towards the Goliath with a gesture. The MEC was too slow to fully get out of the way, and took several direct hits to its torso. The ones that missed went randomly into ADVENT soldiers behind it, causing more damage.

The Battlemaster dashed forward and stabbed forward into a gap in the Goliath’s waist, one of the clearest vulnerabilities. The blade easily cut deep, and the Battlemaster pushed it close to the hilt, while lifting a hand to telekinetically catch the metal fist coming to punch him. A squeezed fist crushed the hand, and another grasp removed the weapon from the MEC and made it useless.

The Battlemaster pulled out his blade, and leapt upwards and buried it in the head of the MEC, the force of his attack forcing it to fall backwards. On the ground, he looked towards the chest where the more vital equipment most likely was, and where the pilot probably would be. He used to hands to telekinetically pull the gaps wider apart, and followed up by stabbing downwards into the suit.

When he pulled up his blade, it was stained with fresh blood, so he presumed the pilot was dead.

He looked out towards the ADVENT soldiers, who were falling back in a furious retreat as they saw the MEC fall, as well as the steady bombardment all around them. The Battlemaster decided to take his time from that point onwards, as the ultimate goal was to drive ADVENT back now. If Patricia died, that was a bonus, and he would also like to learn exactly _how_ she had learned this ability, but if he didn’t, he would simply keep attacking whenever she appeared.

He would kill her one day. It was only a matter of time.

 _“Battlemaster,”_ the Andromedon gunner updated. _“We report that ADVENT forces have suffered severe casualties and appear to be in retreat in all sectors. Shall we continue bombardment?”_

“Continue it,” the Battlemaster commanded as he killed three more soldiers. “Do not cease until they are out of range.”

_“Understood. Maintaining bombardment.”_

***

_Sacramento, California – United States of America_

_Operation: Sherman – Day 3_

_11/24/2016 – 2:18 P.M._

And the assault had been going so well.

Oliver supposed that the Collective deciding to shoot them from orbit was inevitable. The aliens wouldn’t want to lose their only hold on the United States, even if this would be considered ‘cheating’, at least by the standards of the Battlemaster. The bombardment hadn’t come down on their position yet for some reason, but Oliver and most everyone else chalked that up to the ships just not getting to them yet.

Although it wasn’t _as_ large of a problem for them, since they were a moderately smaller, spread out group unlike the clustered soldiers at the taken fortress and the large groups of ADVENT reinforcements. He supposed it was lucky they’d decided to keep pushing forward otherwise they might have been targeted.

But now they were in the heart of the city, and they needed to make a decision about where to go next. Continuing the attack seemed to be, for most everyone, a bad idea. While they likely _could_ continue forward and destroy the majority of the alien forces, and their proximity might deter orbital bombardment on their position, there was the slight problem of having absolutely no support.

ADVENT was beginning to pull back to some of the now-captured towns and small cities, a smart move at least to Oliver, but the consequence of that was they would only hold onto Sacramento, and probably the other larger cities. If they stayed, they would almost certainly be surrounded, and even Geist had to know they couldn’t hold out forever without rest or backup.

Not to mention the aliens, once ADVENT was driven firmly away, would be able to completely surround them and outnumber their dwindling numbers. It appeared Geist had come to the same conclusion. “We will fall back to what the established regrouping point will be,” he said after they had destroyed several Cyberdisks. “If orbital bombardment becomes a more likely threat, we have enough Priests to provide some protection.”

“Probably a good plan,” the leading Protopriest agreed, nodding her head. “At least the way back is cleared.”

“Yes,” Geist pursed his lips. “Unfortunate the Ethereals resorted to bombardment when their lack of competence was apparent. This issue will have to be rectified shortly. Move out!”

Oliver did like how utterly dismissive of the Ethereals Geist was. He suspected even Quisilia might be slightly hurt by his words. Although it would probably make one half furious, and the other half probably wouldn’t be able to pick up on the subtle jabs. Too bad, it was at least one amusing part of this whole situation.

They jogged back up the roads they had come from, bypassing the hundreds of corpses and wrecks they had destroyed. Their casualties had also been extremely low in comparison, and at least Oliver could be certain that they had caused a lot more damage for the aliens than they had received…prior to the bombardment at least.

The tremors caused by it were becoming more apparent, and the yellow streaks from the sky seemed much closer than before. Geist was organizing the defensive Priests in a sort of circle around the soldiers, probably to create a kind of ‘bubble’ to protect them if needed. When they were all close together, Oliver did have to admit that they were now an obvious target.

A good portion of them were XCOM, special forces, or Priests, but if they ran into an especially dangerous enemy force, that might not be enough. They were now reaching what Oliver thought would be one of the riskiest parts – the desolate area that Viktoria had razed to the ground. But it appeared they weren’t going that way, since Geist redirected them around.

Smart move. It would take longer going around, but it was better to have some cover from the buildings than being completely exposed. Oliver was surprised they hadn’t encountered any aliens during their entire run-

“Hold,” Geist commanded, raising a fist as Oliver immediately had to retract that assessment.

In the middle of the street was something that was unquestionably an Ethereal. It _almost_ looked like the Battlemaster, but the helmet was wrong and the figure lacked the sword or the cape. It did, however, retain the massive height and size of the Battlemaster. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. This was going to get bad.

“Who is that?” Nuan asked. “I don’t recognize that one.”

“The First Guardian, if I recall,” Geist said, narrowing his eyes. “Very dangerous. Interesting that they are appearing here. I thought they were simply bodyguards of the Imperator. Which means they must be here on his order. Curious.”

“Be curious about it later,” Oliver said as the Ethereal began marching towards them. Something flew into its hand from the waist. A long cylinder of some kind. Oliver could see another one hanging from the waist as well. “I think we need to do something.”

“We aren’t in a position to fight an Ethereal,” Geist said slowly. “So we need to distract him while the soldiers escape. Guardians are telepaths. I will telepathically attack him while the Lancers and Templar we have attack, and we will fire from the back. Everyone else go around and don’t look back.”

An orange-yellow beam of some kind extended from the object the First Guardian was holding, the length of which looked disturbingly long, almost his own size. “Here we go,” Iosif muttered as he and the Lancers began marching out to meet the Ethereal. Geist extended one hand as well, the air once more beginning to distort around him.

As the regular soldiers quickly moved away, Oliver decided he might as well try and be useful and began lining up shots against the Ethereal. The First Guardian apparently decided he was tired of the slow approach forward and leapt forward, slashing down at one of the Lancers. She raised her weapon to parry, but once it hit it was apparent both that the saber the Guardian was using was slowly cutting through the weapon, and that he was much stronger than she was.

He grasped another Lancer telekinetically and threw him into a building, before another of those weapons appeared in his lower hand and stabbed directly into the first Lancer’s heart, killing her. He switched the lower saber to the opposite hand, and now they were facing a dual-wielding Ethereal.

Not good.

Oliver decided to begin firing, and the Ethereal didn’t seem to be fazed by him in the slightest as he began attacking the other Lancers and Iosif. The Templar had a psionic shield around him and employed them liberally as he attacked, which did seem to be able to resist the cutting power of the buzzing sabers.

It also became apparent that, despite outnumbering the Ethereal six to one, he was very, very good at fighting multiple enemies. Two weapons, and two lower arms for telekinetic blasts back made for very effective defense as he moved from attacking one opponent to another in a span of seconds. “Hold him!” Geist commanded, and the three Telekine Priests began anchoring the Ethereal in place.

That, as it turned out, was a bad idea.

The Ethereal thrust all of his arms out in opposing directions, effectively sending all his opponents flying backwards. He drew back one of his sabers as he seemingly prepared to throw it, and _another_ blade appeared out of the lower end. So the weapons were double-bladed as well. The First Guardian threw it towards the telekines, and the spinning yellow blade easily decapitated them, as well as Moriai and a few other soldiers.

The other side of his remaining weapon was also activated, and the First Guardian began re-engaging the close opponents with a renewed zeal. The fighting style changed completely. The weapons were no longer exclusively in the hands of the Ethereal, but he used them as telekinetic buzzsaws, sending the spinning blades out short distances towards an opponent, cutting them apart before swinging them around to a different enemy.

Three Lancers were killed within ten seconds of each other, and Iosif was barely able to keep up with the barrage of attacks coming from all sides. The Ethereal extended two arms towards the Lancers and snapped their necks to concentrate fully on the Templar. The ranged weapons were doing absolutely nothing to him, and Oliver didn’t really know how they could beat him at this point.

Then the Guardian was suddenly frozen in a stasis field, a thin purple film surrounding his body. “We can’t beat him here,” Geist called. “Get back, I’ll maintain this as long as I can.”

Iosif disengaged and retreated to the remaining Humans as they began following the path the first retreating group had left. “What about you?” Oliver demanded.

“I’ll be with you,” Geist said, face beaded with sweat and an intense look of concentration on his face. “I just may be slower. I don’t have to be here to maintain the field. The psion is powerful, and thus, easy to locate. I will be slower, however, and his telepathic attacks will become more intense since he can’t move.”

“Fine! Fine!” Oliver said, as they all began running away from the Ethereal. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Geist nodded, and slowly returned his extended hand to his side, clenched in a fist. At a nod, he joined the rest of them in retreating. The orbital bombardment now seemed like the least of their worries when they had an Ethereal chasing after them.

Such things certainly gave him perspective on just how bad it could go.

And orbital bombardment was definitely preferable to this.

***

_ADVENT Military Command – Switzerland_

_11/25/2016_

Over the past couple of days the security at ADVENT’s main military command center had, to the Commander’s subjective eye, at minimum tripled. It was completely necessary due to the presence of Chinese military officials, and the coordination between ADVENT and China that had taken place non-stop since the negotiations had been finished.

ADVENT and China had both agreed that they would not announce any alliance until the operation to retake Japan was well underway. He did quite like that the name they had proposed for it was _Dǎotái,_ which roughly translated to _Downfall_. Operation Downfall. Knowing China, he suspected that the fact that it shared the same name as the proposed invasion of Japan back during World War II was not a coincidence.

The Chinese liked their symbolism. So did he, for that matter, and Operation Downfall it had become.

If it went well, it could very well herald a shift in the war, or at least more than what was already done. It was clear that the war would be different once the fighting died down, but this would ramp up the escalation to levels he honestly wasn’t sure they were prepared for. But it was ultimately inevitable. Escalation would come, and he preferred that they dictated the pace of this war, not the Collective.

It was unfortunate that Operation Sherman hadn’t been able to achieve its goal, but that had, in his estimation, accomplished the absolute most it could do. If they had actually managed to push the Collective out of America entirely, it would have been a miracle. But as it stood, they had pushed them back to deep California, Seattle, and unfortunately a growing part of Canada and Alaska.

That had always been a risk, but even now there were solutions being put into practice. He expected Saudia to approve them shortly.

In the meantime, he’d drawn back his XCOM soldiers to the Citadel for a brief recovery. Days of straight fighting took their toll, and ADVENT could corner the Collective in California without their help, and Japan was going to be the operation he needed everyone to be on. South Korea was still holding strong, especially with that sniper taken out of the picture, although Agent Gertrude had been wounded.

Zhang had given him a brief explanation of why she was there, and the immediate implications were extremely unsettling.

On one hand, whoever the Chronicler represented was no friend of the Collective.

On the other, it meant that Aegis had lied to him, or didn’t know as much about the Sovereign Ones as he claimed.

He was betting more on that latter. That was an issue to figure out when the operation was ended. China had proposed several strategies for dealing with the Ethereals that showed up, which largely consisted of throwing absurd amounts of soldiers and explosives at them, which the Commander felt was perhaps the most ineffective solution possible.

It was one thing if they were on equal or greater technological levels, and even then, he wasn’t a proponent of the ‘send soldiers on suicide missions’ doctrine. It was wasteful, lowered morale, and implied that whoever was in charge wasn’t creative enough to develop an actual solution. Granted, against Ethereals there really were no _good_ solutions, but he didn’t approve of sending soldiers to die for the sake of it.

China was also definitely holding something back. The first clue to that had been their request to have several hundred terabytes of video footage of both the Ethereals and Collective. Reasonable, although he didn’t know what they would do with it in time for the invasion, which would take place in one or two days.

The second had been that their commanding general for the invasion hadn’t specifically been chosen. There were clear advisors, but no main commander from what he’d understood. That seemed odd to him, but they hadn’t acted like that was even something worth bringing up. Perhaps they had decided that ahead of time, but it was still odd.

The third had been the Chinese armor designs themselves. They were more based on the original Israeli prototypes, with smoother armor and rounded helmets. They were, of course, colored grey with red and gold tints. The aesthetic wasn’t the interesting part, it was what was _in_ the armor. Because it appeared that China had made their suits resistant against EMP and given every single one extensive wireless capability.

It was arguably better than ADVENT’s, since the parts used could allow the wearer to communicate with someone thousands of miles away. It wasn’t the shorter comm ranges in typical ADVENT armor. Foresight or was there something else going on?

The Commander didn’t know, and he supposed he would have to see it in action. Soon everyone’s cards would be on the table, including his own. Now that he was in his private room, which he’d made sure to scan for bugs and listening devices, he pulled out one of the newer holocommunicators XCOM had begun developing.

This one a direct line to Aegis. The Ethereal appeared in his hand, the ghostly blue figure appraising him. _“Commander, you have need of me?”_

He smirked at that. Not really a better opening line from him. “Yes, Aegis, this time I do. The operation will be starting within days. It is…highly likely that the Collective will send an Ethereal in retaliation, yes?”

 _“Almost certainly,”_ Aegis agreed. _“I suspect Caelior. This is a situation where Battlemaster would be willing to unleash him. Perhaps Isomnum as there is no civilian presence. But given the choice, I would assume Caelior would be willing and able to fulfill the Battlemaster’s retribution.”_

“Right,” well, here went nothing. “Which is why you’re going to ensure that China-and my soldiers-don’t get massacred in Japan.”

Aegis was silent a few moments. _“I believe we have discussed that it is not time for me to-“_

“Yes, we did,” the Commander interrupted firmly. “And that was _before_ we were facing nanoweapons, our capital cities being attacked, and sustained orbital bombardment. It was also before we were using nukes as EMP weapons, having armies of psions, _six_ _Ethereals_ taking part in the war, and launching operations to kick the aliens out of our countries.”

He paused. “The war has escalated without your intervention. It is not going to go down. You’ve been an observer long enough. Your assistance with our science and psionic teams is appreciated, but it’s time you do more than that if you want to stay with us. Pick a side, Aegis. Refusing to help will not be tolerated any longer.”

The Commander wasn’t quite sure how he could realistically back that up, but at minimum it would force Aegis to either attack them, or leave. While having an Ethereal ally was an advantage, he had already provided them with everything he could. He was a useful psionic trainer, but they could eventually do that themselves.

There was little point having an Ethereal ally if they ultimately didn’t do anything beyond giving advice. He’d allowed that long enough.

 _“And what happens if that prompts the Imperator to respond?”_ Aegis said calmly. _“What if he decides there is no point prolonging this war? You are thinking in the short term here, Commander. Yes, I could assist you, but there are consequences I cannot accurately predict, and ones you certainly cannot.”_

“Then we deal with them,” the Commander said bluntly. “Aegis, what point _is_ acceptable for you? Is it when Saudia dies? Is it when the Collective decides to wipe out a continent? Because of the danger that the Collective can just end the war? _That isn’t going away_. What you are doing, is being a coward.”

Aegis stiffened. _“I beg your pardon?”_

“Yes,” the Commander repeated. “You are being a coward. See, this might not be as serious for you as it is for us. You left the Collective because you disagreed with them. Fine. I can’t argue with that. But you also don’t want to commit to one side or another. You’re not doing anything, not because of some fear of _escalation_ , but because if we lose…you want an _out_. You want to claim that you never fought against them, and everything you did was to make a point to the Imperator. That’s a bit harder to claim if you actually take a stand for one side or another.”

He narrowed his eyes. “For us, Aegis, this isn’t a disagreement, this is a matter of _survival_. You should know better than anyone the fear of our species being exterminated or enslaved. _You_ don’t have to worry about that, as I doubt the Imperator would execute you, even if you did assist us, but _we_ do. This is a war that _your_ species caused, an unjust and cowardly war if I may add, and if you actually mean anything you said; if you actually _want_ to show you are on our side… _prove it._ ”

The Commander took a single short breath. “This is technically a request, but this is where you need to make a decision this time. Help us, and show you are on our side beyond your word, or leave. There is no place for apathy for those in XCOM anymore. Help us or leave. That choice is yours.”

Aegis was silent against that for a few moments. _“ADVENT will not like that you hid this.”_

“I will handle ADVENT,” the Commander said. “And we had reasons. You stayed quiet in the assumption that the Collective would not escalate the conflict. This has changed, and there is no reason to hide yourself any longer. You should not be concerned about the _Human_ reaction of all things.”

 _“There would be fallout,”_ Aegis noted. _“But you likely know that already.”_

“Of course.”

 _“This is curious,”_ Aegis mused, sounding oddly thoughtful. _“You are the second one to accuse me of cowardice in recent days. The Battlemaster said something similar. I have never considered myself as such, but I hadn’t looked at it from those points of view. There is a self-preservation instinct I have, which is to deflect problems instead of solve them…and that is one place I can improve over time.”_

He looked to the Commander. _“Very well, Commander. I will once more take the field of battle. I can only hope that both of us are prepared for the consequences.”_


	31. Escalation

 

_The Citadel – United States of America_

_11/27/2016 – 9:55 A.M._

Nuan flexed her mechanical fingers to make sure everything was working correctly. By the end of the operation in Sacramento, the damage her prosthetics had sustained was more extensive than she’d realized. The small patches and fixes had only been temporary measures, and by the end, whole fingers weren’t working correctly.

Not an ideal situation.

Still, even though they’d had to retreat, she was relieved to have something of a reprieve from the non-stop combat. She had never experienced anything like that in her life, and for that being her first time, she thought she’d held up well for the most part. Few casualties, and she’d been rather surprised when she’d seen her recorded kill count. She’d kept track early on, but it had become a blur rather fast.

What she wasn’t sure about was what they were going to do now. The battle had died down significantly in the US, and it appeared the Collective was content to hold onto their major cities while ADVENT secured the outskirts. Seattle was technically lost, but the Commander had told them that was a strategic decision, and there were teams working to sabotage, trap, and otherwise make their attempts to secure the city difficult at best.

Alaska was being steadily taken over by the Collective though. While the Commander had said there were plans in place, it didn’t exactly sound like a good situation, especially with Canada being threatened at the same time. Korea was still under attack, but that seemed to be going well.

But the Commander had been very tight-lipped about what was going to be coming next, which even she could tell was unlike him. He’d probably told Patricia, and knowing Geist, he’d probably read his mind to get the information, but she was uncharacteristically not sharing anything. _Something_ was going to happen, and she was wondering how long it would be before it was revealed.

In the meantime, she was getting a tour of the Citadel by Iosif since she’d joined XCOM after the infamous attack. Although perhaps _infamous_ was the wrong word, since she’d never heard of the incident until after joining. What was obvious was that the Citadel was _extremely_ different to the Praesidium, and quite clearly constructed by Humans, whereas the latter was definitely repurposed alien architecture.

Still though, she did have to admit she’d gotten used to the silvery walls and rounded design of the Sectoid architecture, and that the sharp angles and utilitarian aesthetic of the Citadel definitely seemed subpar in comparison. With that said, she did have several questions, since the place _was_ clearly in good shape and serviceable. “Why did you leave at all?” She asked. “I don’t see any lasting damage.”

“Only the Internal Council was really given the reason,” Iosif admitted as they walked the halls. “It was likely because the aliens knew where the base was, and there wasn’t anything stopping them from just trying again.” A pause. “We’re very lucky the Ethereals sent one of their own who was relatively weak. I don’t think we’d be here if the Battlemaster had decided to lead the charge.”

Nuan furrowed her eyebrows and stopped walking. “So instead you moved _to an alien base_? One that they _definitely_ knew about?” She crossed her arms, looking up at him expectantly.

Iosif scratched his head sheepishly. “I think the Internal Council was…counting on it being so brazen the aliens would _never_ suspect it. And I know we extensively scanned it for bugs and the like.”

Nuan smirked. “A bold move. I’m rather surprised they haven’t done anything yet. They have to know where we are by now.”

“Most likely,” Iosif shrugged as they kept walking. “But they won’t do anything with Aegis there. He’s a good insurance policy.”

An insurance policy that seemed to have an aversion to actually contributing, but one nonetheless. She supposed having an Ethereal sort-of on their side was better than not having one at all. But still…she didn’t know the full details about _why_ the Ethereal was only providing advice, but it was annoying to see these other Ethereals demonstrating how powerful they were, and Aegis _was_ powerful, Iosif had said as much, but he still held back.

Why?

“And this was the old Mission Control,” Iosif said, continuing their modest tour, and stepping through the soundless automatic doors. “Which has apparently been restored to its old glory.”

The old Mission Control was actually fairly similar to the new one. It had the more angular aesthetic of Human design, with the steel floor and grey metal of the walls, but the core concepts were essentially the same. In the center was a massive holoprojector, and surrounding it were rows of computers and chairs for analysts, and there were platforms above acting as a second story.

Even if it wasn’t as aesthetically pleasing as the new Mission Control, the giant hologlobe was one she’d never get tired of seeing. “Seems to do the same thing as the new one,” she commented. “Some things just don’t change.”

“Indeed,” Iosif nodded solemnly. “Though not quite the same anymore.”

The legions of ADVENT personnel around certainly contributed to that feeling. She supposed she couldn’t really understand from the perspective of an outsider. But this was a defining part of XCOM’s short, but memorable history, and she was glad she was getting to see it at least once. “This is where the former Central Officer and Van Doorn died, yes?”

Iosif gave another nod. “It is. Bradford and Van Doorn. Some of the first to actually fight an Ethereal. Good men. I didn’t know them well, but they’d always conducted themselves well and proved their dedication to XCOM with their deaths. It’s unfortunate they fell; we really could use their help.”

“Central Officer Jackson seems to be doing a good job,” Nuan noted as several spots on the hologlobe lit up. “I don’t know what position Van Doorn had, but I assume the Commander had a good replacement.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Iosif corrected. “The Commander doesn’t pick bad candidates, and Jackson has done a good job as far as I know. But to be honest, she isn’t Bradford. She doesn’t have his experience or connections. I don’t think many people knew just how well-connected Bradford was. You’d never guess, but there was a reason XCOM ran so smoothly in the beginning when faced with the…tense situation between the Commander and the Council.”

He paused. “I don’t know if Van Doorn has really been ‘replaced’ either. Maybe Patricia is supposed to fill that role, but while she’s a good psion, she’s no Van Doorn. He was…irreplaceable from an experience perspective.”

Nuan didn’t know _that_ much about Van Doorn, but she knew his basic reputation, and even her superiors had held some respect for him. China had not participated much during the War on Terror, and that was where General Van Doorn had become more widely known. Ever since he had been indisputably the most respected military official in the world.

She supposed a loss like him _was_ irreplaceable.

“All things considered,” Iosif commented. “Things could have gone a lot worse. If only all Ethereals could be beaten by a few telepaths.”

“Some can be,” the Commander commented, walking up behind them and making her stiffen at his voice. “Unfortunately, the ones we’re likely to fight aren’t. From what Aegis said, the Ravaged One was a…special case.”

The Commander paused. “But that isn’t important right now. Come with me.”

Iosif and her exchanged a look, and followed him out of the room and back into the hallways. “You’ve not been here, Nuan,” the Commander said without looking back to her. “Your impressions on our humble beginnings?”

Nuan cocked her head. “If you’d shown me this first, I would be highly impressed. China didn’t have anything like this. Although I will say the Praesidium is an improvement.”

The Commander seemed to find that amusing. “I can’t disagree, but I have good memories here…” he sounded wistful at that, before turning to them. “However, I’m afraid your tour will have to be cut short. Suit up and prepare for deployment.”

“What’s the mission?” Iosif asked.

“We are going to assist in retaking Japan.” Was the answer.

Nuan was dumbfounded. It was enough of a surprise that ADVENT was going to try and retake _America_ , but attacking Japan at the same time? Was that even a good idea? _Could_ they even do that without…well, she would say Chinese help, but that seemed unlikely. “Japan,” she repeated. “That seems…risky.”

“Oh, it will be,” the Commander surprisingly agreed with a nod. “However, we have a few factors in our favor. Namely that the Collective will _not_ be expecting an attack like this, they are already damaged from the EMP’s, and in addition, we have some help.”

“I suppose the Japanese want some revenge,” Iosif said, though Nuan had the distinct feeling he didn’t mean them.

“Oh, they do, but the difference is that this will not be a primarily ADVENT operation,” the Commander looked to her. “It appears that your constant insistence on the benefits of an ADVENT-Chinese alliance have had a role in their decision to reach out.”

Nuan’s eyes widened. Was it really happening? “You’re saying…”

“Yes,” the Commander smiled at her. “China and ADVENT are at this moment, in a military alliance. It will be announced within several hours, and has been negotiated for roughly a week. They will spearhead the liberation of Japan, with our assistance. In return, of course, they will acquire the majority of the salvage and afterwards, we can iron out the details of a firmer alliance.”

Nuan knew she probably had a stupid smile on her face, but she couldn’t help it. _This_ was exactly what she’d been hoping for, and it reinforced her trust in her superiors that she now realized had been deteriorating dangerously. But that was all gone now; they’d finally come around and she knew it was at least partially to do with her.

She really hoped she wasn’t dreaming, but if she was, this was going to last as long as she could make it. If China was going to take the step of working with ADVENT, it might set off a chain of events where the other countries began also working in earnest to kick the aliens off their planet. That was the best case scenario, and it probably hinged on the upcoming battle.

“Thank you, Commander,” she said. “For the opportunity here.”

“In this case, you’re more to thank than I am,” he answered, inclining his head. “But get suited up now. You deploy in one hour.”

“Yes, Commander!” She performed a hasty salute in her excitement, grabbed Iosif by the arm, a bit firmer than she intended and quickly began marching back to the barracks to prepare for what was possibly the most important battle of the war yet.

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_11/27/2016 – 10:11 A.M._

“Do you think they’ll ever retreat?”

“Doubt it,” Duri sighed, trying once more to line up an impossible shot at one of the barely visible aliens in the distance. Unlike Beatriz, who was still happily chipping away at them. If he’d realized that trench warfare was going to largely be him _not_ shooting at aliens, interspersed with long stretches of absolutely nothing happening, he would have requisitioned a sniper rifle himself.

He was definitely going to diversify after this.

“You want to try?” He glanced up to see Beatriz looking at him curiously, her sniper rifle slightly extended to him.

“How did you know?” He asked. “You a telepath and didn’t tell me?”

“I wish,” she sniffed. “No, but after seeing you act incredibly bored for the past hour and looking at my rifle, I figured you wanted to do something besides make sure all of us have ammo we’re not using.”

“Well, if you insist,” Duri grinned as she handed it over and brought himself up to a firing position. It was definitely much different than an assault rifle, but it wasn’t the _first_ time he’d held one of these. He peered through the scope, actually happy to have some idea of _where_ the aliens actually were instead of faint outlines on the horizon.

They did seem to be trying to mitigate ADVENT’s advantage over them, at least their barricades were kind of completed. Above ground, and technically worse than their own, but it was far, far better than what they’d had before (which was nothing).

“Hey,” Beatriz chided. “I didn’t give it to you to use as a telescope. Kill some aliens, would you?”

“Easy,” Duri chuckled. “I need to find them first. Here we go…”

He knew he was going to miss before he even fired the gun. He was a fairly good shot with a rifle, but he wasn’t trained for long-range combat. He’d be lucky if he actually hit the alien barricade itself. Nonetheless, he fired at one of the Vitakarian soldiers in the distance. He saw the alien duck into cover, so he’d probably hit…somewhere close by…but it was definitely a miss.

“Ugh, shot wide,” he muttered, still looking through the scope.

“You’re not taking enough time,” Beatriz suggested. “At this range you can take minutes to set up shots, especially against humanoid figures. I could hit a Cyberdisk or Sectopod in my sleep – normally because those are closer, but I digress – but the small aliens need time. But you’re new, so I guess keep practicing.” He heard a pause. “This isn’t against the rules, right?”

“Technically, probably,” Duri shrugged. “But don’t worry, as your superior officer, you are just following orders. Doubt ADVENT is going to care all that much.”

“Hey, check above!” Miguel called from the back of the trench. “Looks like we have a skyranger incoming!”

Duri glanced behind him to see the sight of the skyranger flying towards the battlefield from the city. He’d seen the pictures, but he was fairly certain that this was the first time he’d seen a skyranger in person. They were smaller than he was expecting, but then again, they only had to fit in…what, eight soldiers.

“What is XCOM doing here?” Cara asked from her gunner position, sounding confused. “Yeah, it’s nice, but they don’t show up unless we really need the help.”

“Or they’re coming to end the attack,” Mana commented. “I suspect ADVENT doesn’t want this to drag out too long.”

Duri frowned. “XCOM is good…but they’re not _that_ good. It’s going to take more than eight soldiers to end this battle _here_ , much less the rest of the country.”

“I don’t know,” Beatriz said slowly, looking up at the encroaching skyranger. “I’ve heard the stories about their psions. Supposedly one of them turned Vegas into a tomb. Killed all the living enemies inside and ADVENT mopped up the mechanical ones.”

“Trask,” Mana nodded. “Yes. One of the most powerful they have. If she’s here, the aliens better run. If half the stuff about her is true, they’ll wish they had been killed by us.”

Duri didn’t feel the need to add _too_ much to the conversation. If XCOM was going to help, good for them, and if they had something else planned, then that was also fine. But to his surprise, while the skyranger _was_ getting closer to the ground, it was still flying over the trench line itself, and finally stopped, hovering a few dozen feet past the front line.

“I really hope XCOM isn’t stupid enough to do a charge forward,” Cara muttered. “Because that worked _so_ well for the aliens.”

The first clue that something was off was that several of the alien soldiers began firing at the Skyranger, with as little accuracy as Duri expected. However, there were a few stray plasma bolts that came perilously close, and the aircraft was suddenly enveloped in a psionic shield which instantly negated the green plasma.

The Skyranger door then opened, and Duri felt his body become paralyzed in terror. For the being that jumped from the skyranger to the ground below was not any number of XCOM soldiers.

But an _Ethereal_.

He’d never actually seen one in person, and this was _not_ one of the ones that had been fought before. It was just as surreal as he had imagined. The alien was _massive_ , at least three meters tall, but this one had a different kind of helmet. This one was more ornate and had some kind of open rectangle maw where the mouth probably was. It almost looked like it was screaming.

The Ethereal itself wore what at first glance looked like armor, and it _did_ seem to be armor, but almost more ceremonial than anything. It clearly wasn’t thick, nor was full plate like the Battlemaster or even ADVENT armor. Instead it was more similar to…lighter types. Only parts of the body were covered, the chest, legs, and arms, and underneath was a kind of blue material.

The armor itself was masterfully engraved with alien patterns and…words, maybe? Duri didn’t know why he was focusing on the pretty armor when it belonged to an _Ethereal_. Also like the Battlemaster, a blue cape with gold embroidery fell from his shoulders.

Cara decided to speak for all of them. “ _That’s a fucking Ethereal!”_

He could forgive her for stating the obvious this time. The skyranger flew off, and the Ethereal stood alone, not facing ADVENT, but the alien lines themselves. The entire battlefield had become silent; collective breaths held as they waited for _something_ to happen. “Orders?” Mana asked breathlessly. “Shoot it?”

Duri couldn’t believe he was saying it, but the Ethereal, for whatever reason, wasn’t attacking them. “Hold on…let’s see what he does…he hasn’t attacked yet.”

They waited a few more seconds, and then the Ethereal began walking towards the alien line, purple energy beginning to coalesce around him. The aliens had stopped firing, but a quick glance through the scope confirmed they were just standing there in shock, still enough he probably could have shot them, even with his lack of experience.

The Ethereal was about a quarter of the way through no-man’s land when it raised one purple-enshrined hand, and slammed it down violently. A sheet of psionic energy materialized above part of the alien line and slammed down, crushing the barricade and any aliens unfortunate enough to be caught under it. More similar shields appeared and began falling down on the aliens.

Several of the Sectopods held back found themselves encased in purple boxes which collapsed in on them, crushing the machines instantly. The Ethereal was continuing to walk forward, all four of his arms moving in mesmerizing unison. The alien line was now littered with rapidly shifting, appearing, and disappearing psionic shields of various sizes of kinds.

That had apparently been enough to get the aliens to start attacking, though it was as close to a futile effort as ADVENT had had fighting Ethereals themselves. The Ethereal had erected a personal shield around him, and the ones that shot him found themselves bisected by shields that appeared to materialize _inside_ them, or have limbs shattered when a low-form shield appeared to undercut them.

Cyberdisks shimmered in barely tangible prisons before becoming crushed. The barricades that were capable of withstanding artillery fire were destroyed as if they were clay. Aliens soon forgot their mission, and with no Hunter to shoot them, fled as the aliens sent some UFOs, somehow believing that they would do the job.

Eight of the fighters fired at the alien from the skies, and all the Ethereal did was motion at them once and they found themselves encased in a form-fitting purple shield. Unlike the other ones, they were not crushed, but instead they fell from the sky like rocks as the shield likely prevented propulsion or any other way they used to stay aloft.

The alien was now three-quarters of the way across, and already he had broken the alien line and shown no signs of slowing down. Duri watched through the scope as massive Mutons were crushed into paste, and large groups of Vitakara were running forward, hands up and trying to convince the alien to spare them.

“What the fuck is going on?” Cara asked numbly. “Am I dreaming?”

“I don’t know,” Duri said equal awe in his voice. “But if I had to guess, I think that Ethereal _really_ doesn’t like his brethren.”

 _“Uh…this is Chief Marshal Kong to all ADVENT forces,”_ the Chief Marshal said, sounding as shocked as they all felt. _“Don’t, ah, don’t fire on the Ethereal…he’s apparently on our side.”_

“Wow, I can see why he was put in charge,” Cara muttered as they saw the Ethereal down another wave of fighters.

“Quiet,” Duri muttered. Now was not the time for sarcasm.

 _“We have more information incoming,”_ Kong updated, still audibly shaken. _“XCOM…apparently wanted to keep this a surprise. But everyone’s fine up here, the situation is normal. How are you?”_ A brief pause. _“Please disregard that and prepare to advance forward.”_

“I should ask him what his operating number is,” Cara snickered, jumping down from her gunner position. “Well, guess XCOM had more going for them than we thought.”

Duri grinned. “Well, you heard the Chief. Get ready to move out! We’re kicking the aliens off the country _today_!” That was met with cheers or acknowledgement as they prepared to do what they’d been hoping for since the battle had started.

Win.

***

_ADVENT Media Center – Switzerland_

_11/27/2018 – 1:02 P.M._

This was going to be something historians would talk about for decades afterwards, assuming they actually _had_ a history to discuss in the future. It didn’t seem so long ago that she was up here, announcing Operation Sherman, and in truth, it had only been a week. It certainly felt longer than that, but this turn of events had given her some energy back.

Today the world would be forever altered, and the war would never be the same.

Not that it had been before.

The media room was absolutely packed. They’d been endlessly speculating on the rumors of the various people she’d been meeting. The good news was that they didn’t exactly know _who_ they were in contact with. Most seemed to believe it was with the EU (who had denied to comment), the SAS (who had flatly denied it), or China (who had also declined to comment). It had been interesting seeing the speculation about what the effects would be if there was something announced with _any_ of the suspected parties.

However, there had been zero discussion about another possible attack.

She allowed herself a smile at that.

The Commander was here with her, and had asked to make his own statement, which she had immediately allowed. If for no other reason than it was good for the public to hear from XCOM every once in a while. However, there was definitely something off about what he was presenting. Not only was Patricia Trask and Shaojie Zhang with him, the former in full armor, but the Commander himself was in his own distinctive silver armor.

She didn’t know what he was planning. Perhaps that XCOM was going to be assisting in the defense of Vancouver or South Korea? More likely he was wearing it for the psychological factor. That he had his sniper rifle attached to his back armor and the pistol in plain view, that was a more than likely reason.

The Chinese delegation, which would consist of President Qin and Generals Zhen and Kong would be arriving…any moment now. She was quite looking forward to the looks on their faces when they realized that the Chinese government was going to make a surprise appearance. Not that she could blame them. After this, she was going to be taking a short trip to China for a similar media event.

She wondered how this was going to go over with the Chinese people.

At a signal from one of the door guards, she stepped up to the podium and right on cue the doors behind her opened to let the Chinese delegation begin filing in. There was a burst of gasps, muttering, and the inevitable clicks of cameras going off by the dozens. Saudia kept her face controlled, as did President Qin as he took a place beside her.

Saudia rested her hands on the sides of the podium. “Thank you all for coming today, and as you likely expected, we have some major announcements to make. These will be primarily on the state of the war and the future plans moving forward, both militarily and diplomatically. There will be no questions today, but I will of course be speaking at length over the following days.”

She let her gaze sweep over the enraptured crowd. “The first announcement, is that ADVENT is officially forming a military alliance with China.” She paused intentionally to let the press do their work reporting and transcribing. That alone was headline news, but she felt that would be less important than the later announcement.

“Negotiations have been taking place over the past week,” Saudia continued. “Under normal circumstances, such an event would not be kept secret, but this was a special case as when the Chinese government, and in particular, President Qin approached us, they had a very specific goal in mind for this initial alliance. Mr. President?”

She stepped off to the side as President Qin took the center podium to the clicks of cameras. “Thank you, Chancellor. It has been a pleasure to work with you, and I hope our relationship will continue to be fruitful in the days to come.” The Chinese President looked around the room as she had before.

“This was a decision that was not taken lightly, but times have changed, even since the formation of ADVENT itself,” he began. “It has become clear, both to me and my advisors, that the time for neutrality is over. This is a larger concern than either of our governments; it is one that concerns our entire species. It is one thing to disagree professionally, it is another to have one fight battles for you.”

He nodded to Saudia. “The Chancellor and I know where we stand. We disagree on much, but in one area we are bound, and that is the defeat of the Ethereal Collective. ADVENT, for as much as they are criticized, is doing something that no one else is even attempting – they are _fighting back_. They have done so since the beginning, while others have stayed behind, either out of fear or malice – it ultimately doesn’t matter.”

Saudia couldn’t help but notice that he was making a lot of eye contact with European media as he spoke. “That will end today. China will not allow another to fight its battles, and this battle cannot have any on the sidelines. The aliens are the _enemy_. They will come to capture, kill, or experiment on your people, and that will not change regardless of if ADVENT fights back or not.”

His speech was far harsher than Saudia had anticipated, but she couldn’t argue with it. He was putting a challenge to the world: If China can work with ADVENT, so can everyone else.

“If countries are so foolish as to believe that the aliens will simply ignore them, they are willingly blind to the threat they face,” Qin continued. “They do not discriminate between Chinese, American, or English. They do not care for your homeland, only its people. It is time to put aside our differences between countries, and unite to fight and conquer this alien threat. China will fight beside ADVENT to accomplish this task.”

Another pause. “And to conclude this, I do not say these words as empty promises, but a harbinger of what is happening now. Chinese forces are moving towards Japan at this moment to liberate it from alien control, and return it to the Japanese.”

There was a predictable, though muted outburst from the press. No one bothered trying to hush themselves as Qin let them digest this. Saudia took the center once more. “As per our negotiations, China will take primary point on this operation, with limited ADVENT and XCOM support. This is what I hope to be the first of many victories between ADVENT and the People’s Republic of China.”

She motioned to the Commander to step forward. “Our offices will be updating the press on the current status of the operation in Japan, but it will be several hours yet. However, before this meeting is adjourned today, the Commander of XCOM will be making some additional comments on the status of their own operations and this recent diplomatic victory.”

She stepped down and the Commander walked up, hands clasped behind his back and looking suspiciously pleased with himself. While she was as pleased with this turn of events as he probably was, he didn’t exactly seem happy about _that_. It was a look that he was going to do something that would somehow overshadow what had just taken place.

She really didn’t know how that could be possible though.

_Just what are you up to, Commander?_

***

Saudia was definitely suspecting something. To be fair, it was rather difficult to hide and he didn’t really have the desire, nor inclination to do so. He was allowed to have some fun with this. Normally, he didn’t think there would be bigger news than this, but that was before the announcement that there was an Ethereal working for XCOM.

The press was going to have a heart attack today.

“Thank you, Chancellor,” the Commander began, once more nodding to Saudia. “I would first like to express my thanks for the leadership of both China and ADVENT coming together. This is a war than we cannot win unless we are fully united, and I am pleased to say that President Qin has taken the first step, and hope that many more will follow in the coming days.”

He decided to give them some more praise. It couldn’t hurt. “China has had a working relationship with us for some time, and the soldiers they have provided us with have more than done their part in defending humanity. XCOM I believe is the ultimate expression of unity; it is of people from all different backgrounds and nationalities coming together for the greater good.”

“While I do understand that such decisions on the scale of nations are more difficult than a paramilitary organization, I believe that we are seeing the first stages of such unity today.” He nodded to Qin. “As Chancellor Vyandar stated, I also hope that this is the first of many victories we share. I will be personally assisting in the liberation of Japan, as will the best of my XCOM operatives, including Overseer Trask.”

Patricia raised a hand behind him. Right, that part done. Now for the good part.

“However, today I do not want to simply focus on this, but about our enemy, though not necessarily in the way you are thinking,” he paused. “I have been in a privileged position these past few months, and have seen and worked to acquire knowledge about our enemy, for there is _much_ that you, and even ADVENT, are not aware of.”

He paused. “But _I am_.”

The press looked confused, and he even sensed some confusion from those behind him, wondering where he was going with this. “There is much speculation on the nature of the aliens; their society; their government; their culture. Perhaps not in military circles, but certainly academic ones, and it is often ignored despite the prevailing saying that to defeat an enemy, you must know them.”

He tapped a finger on the podium. “Most do not, nor care to. Understandable, as information is hard to come by and often our survival is placed above the acquisition of trivial knowledge. However, I believe the time for that should be ended. There is much that should be known about the Ethereal Collective, much of which their own soldiers do not know.”

He rested one hand on the podium. “The Collective is much more fragile than you have been led to believe. They are commanded by an apathetic Imperator, a leader who allows the species to plot and plan on their own. The Ethereals have no loyalty to the species they command, but simply view them as a means to an end.”

Now he had the rapt attention of everyone in the room. “The Vitakara government is held hostage by the Ethereals and their people watched endlessly by the Zararch, killing or silencing anyone who has the audacity to ask questions. Even today there are those on their homeworld who resist the commands of the Ethereals, and each day more and more die.”

He paused. “Both President Qin and Chancellor Vyandar are correct. This war is bigger than any one country, but it also fails to state the scale of what is truly at stake. This is bigger than just one _species_. This war has disputed the fragile peace that once existed within the Ethereal Collective, and every day becomes more tenuous the more we resist.”

“All eyes are watching us now, those within the Andromedon Federation, and those of the Sectoid Hive Commanders. The Andromedons have been on the edge of civil war for years, and this conflict has only exacerbated the inevitable outcome. They are only held together by the threat of the Sectoids, and tensions between the species have been rising for years-and this war may force it to a breaking point.”

A pause. “The Sectoids themselves have been manipulated by the Ethereals from the beginning; the Ethereal Overmind bent their minds to listen to the Ethereals instead of rejecting them, and ever since they have obeyed as subservient pawns in the Imperator’s game of galactic control.” Some of the people looked slightly overwhelmed by what was being said, but he pressed forward. There would be plenty of time to digest it later.

“The point I wish to make here,” the Commander said. “Is that this is not only a war for the survival of _our_ species, but one against the Ethereals. They have dominated and controlled all they encounter-except us. We resisted, and as a result, we are now what others undoubtedly look towards for inspiration. They fear what we are capable of, of what we have already set in motion.”

He allowed some time to think about that. “The question you all no doubt have right now is _how_ I could know any of this. We have certainly extracted such information via our telepaths and interrogations, but it is not our greatest source. Not even the Ethereals are immune to the divide that exists within their Collective…” He trailed off.

“The time has now come to reveal that XCOM has been working with an Ethereal defector since the first invasion of Australia.”

The Commander allowed himself a smile as the room burst into chaos with everyone shouting questions and trying to be heard, and destroying any semblance of order. He glanced back at the entourage to see Saudia, for once, completely in shock. The blood from Qin’s face had drained and his generals looked especially stunned.

The Commander crossed his arms, waiting for it to calm down, but to his surprise, it wasn’t. He motioned to Patricia. “ _Silence!”_ She commanded, her eyes flaring purple, and within a few seconds the crowd quieted down and waited for him to continue.

“This Ethereal, whose name is Aegis, defected after he saw how our species had been treated by them. His reservations have existed for some time, and this was his chance to do something about it,” the Commander explained. “You will of course wonder why his involvement was kept a secret, and what we have done with the knowledge provided.”

He motioned to Patricia and Zhang. “We have pioneered technology used in ADVENT today, and even now are working on technology beyond even that of the Ethereals. We have provided ADVENT with crucial information about the aliens themselves, though not enough to implicate Aegis himself.

“But the question of why we have been silent? His reason was that his open involvement would escalate this conflict, and force us into an unwinnable situation. _That_ ,” the Commander punctuated with a fist to the podium. “Has not deterred the Ethereals. It has not stopped them from _escalating_ this conflict. Nanoweapons; bombardment; terrorizing our cities and people. The Collective has escalated this war, and there is no turning back. They will not stop, regardless of his involvement or not.”

“But now,” he lowered his voice. “The time for hiding is over. As we speak, he is moving to destroy the Collective forces in Korea. Today, I can promise that the battle there will _end_. The Collective has feared his involvement, and now they will remember why they fear the power of an Aegis.” The Commander looked towards one of the cameras.

“This is for the Battlemaster, and a message from Aegis himself. This is your final warning to withdraw your forces from this planet, or there will be consequences.” The Commander paused. “That is all. We will provide additional details once the current situation has stabilized.”

The Commander stepped down as the press rose up again, demanding answers, which he promptly ignored as he walked out of the room.

That had certainly been entertaining.

Although Saudia…he glanced over to see Saudia storming his way.

Saudia was going to have some questions.

***

_Command Room, Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit_

_11/27/2016 – 10:33 A.M._

Quisilia put his skill with words to excellent use.

“This is not good.”

The Battlemaster had to agree. Now they were in the _exact_ position he wanted to have avoided, with Aegis now indisputably taking the side of the Humans. He didn’t know whether to be furious at Aegis doing something so damaging as that, or slightly relieved that Aegis was, for once, actually taking a firm stand for something. That at least he could respect.

Going against the Imperator was not done lightly, and regardless of his reasons, Aegis had now proven that his little stunt had not been a means of making a point, but something he felt strong enough to fight his kind for. But at the same time, it severely complicated things. The entire war effort, which had already had its fatal flaws exposed, was utterly useless against an Ethereal of Aegis’s caliber.

Human psions had already thrown a wrench into this plan, especially with them being completed sooner than anticipated, but they were nothing compared to an Ethereal. No, the entire Collective military was going to have to be reworked to take this development into account. He was now going to have to prepare for Ethereal-level threats, not just moderately powerful Humans.

Aegis knew his involvement would escalate the war. There was little reason to hold back against the Humans now. The Imperator might not like it, but that was too bad. The Humans, with Aegis, were now a threat. Perhaps not compared to the remaining Ethereals, but against the Collective forces. The entire strategy needed to be reworked and overhauled.

“I assume the plan has changed?” Quisilia asked.

To make matters worse, _Japan_ was now under attack by not ADVENT, but the _Chinese_. An influential power of the old power structure of Earth, but one he hadn’t really bothered to consider in any serious capacity. And for that, he was paying the price. The Japanese defenses were already damaged by the previous nuclear EMP attacks, with only limited communication and Gateway support established.

Not even all the soldiers were _armed_. There were no mechanical units. Even with a technologically inferior foe in the Chinese, against a neutered Collective, he was not happy with his odds, especially with the Chinese seeming to send a large portion of their army to invade. Worse, they were far more coordinated and organized than should be possible.

They, with inferior weapons, armor, and tech, were somehow managing to outflank, outshoot, and destabilize their defenses and he was somehow at a loss as to how that could be. Not even _ADVENT_ was this tactically good, at least not with the speed the Chinese were performing. Already they were invading along the _entire_ southern coast of Japan, and seemed to plan to surround the whole island.

A problem.

“Yes. The plan has changed,” the Battlemaster finally said. “Our strategy has proven to be ineffective. Collective forces have had their flaws revealed. I’m ordering a full retreat and full lockdown of the countries we do control with direct Ethereal and Cleanser Ship support. Our offensives in Korea will be abandoned, as will Japan-“

He was suddenly thrown against the wall, only managing to twist in the air, to face a visibly furious Caelior. The air was distorted around him, and the entire room was vibrating. Quisilia had one hand holding a blade, and was ready to spring into action. But Caelior did not seem to care. _“Coward_ ,” he spat. “And I thought you were actually one of our greatest champions. But no, at the moment you see the traitor reveal himself you _run away_!”

The Battlemaster _really_ did not have time for this. “We are not pre-“

 _“No!”_ Caelior roared. _“You_ are not prepared. _You_ are weak. _You_ are scared of defeat. _You_ are the reason our Empire fell, because when faced with an adversary, you _run_. You _flee_ like a scavenger. You are no Ethereal, much less worthy of the title of Battlemaster. _You_ are an only fool who would be beaten by _primitives_!”

“Choose your words carefully, Little Storm,” Quisilia said, his voice noticeably humorous. The Battlemaster knew that he was fully prepared to attack if Caelior became more violent. “As the Battlemaster can attest, running into battle for the sake of it-“

One of Caelior’s hands clenched into a fist and Quisilia was suddenly lifted into the air and thrown back, though he vanished and reappeared right behind the irate Ethereal. Caelior did not seem perturbed, jabbing a finger at him. “And _you_ are a bigger coward than he is. You hide in shadows and believe that you are powerful. You have been corrupted by the Humans, believe them worthy of our attention and preservation.” His voice turned to a sneer. “I feel like you would prefer them over your own kind.”

“At this moment, I certainly do, Little Storm,” Quisilia said. “Do you have a reason for your tantrum? It’s highly unprofessional.”

“And what are you going to do, _Shadow_?” Caelior growled. _“Kill me_? No, the Imperator will not allow it. I was chosen for a reason, and I am certainly more important to our fight than you will ever be. Far more than _him_.” He spat towards the Battlemaster.

Caelior spun towards the window. “You can have our useless soldiers flee from Aegis in Korea. But I will not let Japan fall to a mass of technologically inferior primitives. That you would even _consider_ such a measure is disgusting.”

“There is a reason for that,” the Battlemaster stated, resisting the urge to unsheathe his sword. “When Aegis finishes with Korea, just _where_ do you think he is coming next? Especially if _you_ arrive?”

“Let him come,” Caelior stated firmly. “I will do what you will not and kill the traitor and present his corpse to the Imperator. He does not intimidate me.”

The Battlemaster hesitated. “You really believe you can kill him?”

“It is not a question that needs to be asked,” Caelior sneered. “You could not. Quisilia could not. But I am more powerful than either of you, and one Aegis is nothing compared to the power I wield.”

“I do recall the Imperator wishing Aegis be kept alive,” Quisilia mused.

“That was before Aegis joined the Humans fully,” Caelior dismissed. “The circumstances have changed. I will not allow such an insult to go unpunished. One who has turned their back on our own can no longer be trusted.”

The young Ethereal turned towards the Battlemaster. “I initially believed that I could learn something from you, but that is clearly false. You are clearly of inferior stock, and why you were preserved is something I cannot understand. But I will not tolerate it any longer. When I return, _I_ will take control of this military operation and you can go back to the Imperator like the failure you are.”

Coming from anyone else, the words would have been somewhat hurtful. However, from Caelior, they only sounded as powerless as the Ethereal himself was. Quisilia simply started laughing, but paused when the Battlemaster raised a hand. “Very well. On the condition that Aegis dies. Do that, and I will relinquish command to you.”

“As if I need your approval to do such a thing,” Caelior sniffed. “But it is certainly something that can be done. Make preparations for the transition of authority. That includes the Zar’Chon, Quisilia, as you’ll be under me when I return.”

“Oh, of course, Little Storm,” Quisilia said with clear mockery. “I, of course, live to serve your every command. Although, once you return, of course.”

“And you will address me properly,” Caelior stated, stepping towards Quisilia. “No more mockery. No more names. _I_ will be in command, and I expect you to comply, else I will inform the Imperator of your insubordination.”

Caelior was truly lost if he didn’t realize that Quisilia only answered to the Imperator, not the Battlemaster. Quisilia _was_ usually willing to listen to him, and offered his own advice, but unlike the other Ethereals involved, he was technically not _under_ the Battlemaster. But he allowed Quisilia to have his fun.

“I suppose you should prepare your attack,” the Battlemaster said. “My-“

“Strategies, tactics, _plans_ ,” Caelior growled with a dismissive sweep of his arm. “We are not common primitives, Battlemaster, we are _Ethereals_. We do not outplan our enemies, we _crush_ them. The only _plan_ needed is how painful I will make their deaths. You have forgotten much from the Empire, Battlemaster. _We_ are the masters of this galaxy, and we will not stoop to the level of our enemies.”

“Go then.” Was all the Battlemaster said. “Kill Aegis. Do it.”

“We will speak shortly,” Caelior said, and spun on a heel and marched away through the doors.

Quisilia walked up to him, twirling the blade in his hand. “I would say it’s a shame he’s going to die, but really, I would be lying. I’m surprised you let him go so easily, it’s not like you were in any danger.”

“Caelior is not fit to hold a position in the Collective,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “He has become a liability, and I have seen enough to know he will not change. He will die against Aegis, and we will be better off for it.”

“Still,” Quisilia mused. “He would have been useful.”

“No,” the Battlemaster dismissed. “He would not. That is why I allowed him to leave. He has no use to us anymore, and when he dies, it will only emphasize the need for change.”

“The defection of Aegis will be a large blow to morale,” Quisilia pointed out. “And the very public death of an Ethereal will not assuage that, no matter how necessary it may be.”

“I cannot kill one of our own for the crime of stupidity,” the Battlemaster said, looking out the window into space. “But I can have them die to it. The Collective will recover, as will our species.”

“Very well,” Quisilia sighed. “I will inform the Imperator of this. Although I suspect he will not object.”

“That,” the Battlemaster said. “Is very unlikely.”

***

_Kumamoto – Japan_

_11/27/2016 – 2:17 P.M._

The Commander stepped outside the skyranger onto the shores of the now-captured Sapporo beachhead, as the Chinese forces deployed in square formations beside him and were already sweeping the streets of the city itself. The initial attacks had gone…almost suspiciously well, even with the massive advantage they had with the disrupted aliens and Chinese numbers.

“Geist, take Shun, Nuan, and Iosif towards the fighting,” the Commander stated, and the three dashed off towards the sounds of fighting in the center of the city. Patricia stepped up beside him, Creed and Carmelita close behind her. “Patricia, do your thing. We don’t need prisoners today.”

“Yes, Commander,” she nodded, and presumably began exerting her telepathic influence. The Commander then turned to see one of the Chinese squads walking forward to greet him.

“Commander,” the lead soldier greeted, voice heavily accented. “A pleasure. We have made excellent progress and we will likely have control of this city within the day. Similar offensives are already taking place across the country.”

“Good,” the Commander said approvingly. “Estimated enemy defenses?”

“Their main weapon emplacements were taken offline by the EMP blast,” was the answer. “I estimate that they were not prioritized in the reconstruction process. They did not expect us to attack, and focused instead on basic power and living conditions.”

“Unlikely,” he agreed. “So what is the plan of attack moving forward?”

The soldier exchanged a look with one of his subordinates. “We will need for you to be connected to the Tiāngōng Artificial Intelligence. From there you will receive further directions.”

The Commander blinked, and Creed stepped forward. “You have an AI?”

“Correct,” the soldier answered. “I am not aware of the specifications. You will need to speak to General Kong or President Qin if you wish further details. However, to be at your most effective, I highly recommend connection to the AI.”

Well, the suits weren’t sophisticated enough where there was a large amount of information within them. It was…likely safe to connect. But he would have to ensure that the suit wasn’t compromised when he returned to the Praesidium. The question of exactly _how_ China had managed to develop an AI was one he would have to answer later.

“Alright, do it,” the Commander nodded. The process of setting it up was a short one, and rather anticlimactic aside from the voice in his helmet.

 _“Nationality identified: American. Ethnicity identified: Caucasian. Position identified: Commander of XCOM. Estimated spoken language: English – If this is correct, please state yes or no.”_ The voice was flat and bland, and didn’t have _personality_ , but it was still neat to hear working.

“Yes,” the Commander said.

_“Confirmed. Loading current objectives based on your current position. Based on previous combat data, you fight at long range with a sniper rifle and have unknown genetic modifications that improve mobility. Please confirm – yes or no.”_

“Yes.”

 _“Objectives set.”_ The voice really was monotone. He couldn’t detect any kind of accent in it. It sounded purely like a computer, and he wondered if it sounded different in Chinese. _“For your own safety, it is recommended that you follow all instructions. Failure to do so will lead to your death or equivalent disciplinary action by People’s Republic of China.”_

The Commander smirked. “I’m not with China. I’m just helping out.”

_“Noted. Documentation and systems updated.”_

Huh, well it seemed it was more than a machine intelligence, which he had first assumed. He still wasn’t sure if this was an _actual_ AI, or a machine intelligence. It seemed to be a highly sophisticated version of the latter, but not what he would define as a _true_ AI quite yet. Maybe this would change. His HUD blinked and he saw the location he was being ‘sent’.

“Alright, I’ve got coordinates,” the Commander said to Carmelita and Creed. “Follow me.”

“I don’t think it wants us to follow you,” Carmelita said with a chuckle. “I think it actually has individual orders for each soldier.”

“The processing power must be absurd,” the Commander muttered. “Well, it’ll have to make do. Tell it to recalculate or something. Follow me. And be careful what you say, you could face disciplinary action by the Chinese.”

_“Note: This policy no longer applies to members of XCOM.”_

“Creepy,” Creed muttered. “I already don’t like it.”

_“That is unfortunate. If you have issues with my performance, please inform your nearest captain.”_

“Just…don’t distract me,” Creed sighed as he moved to follow the Commander. “I really hope this thing isn’t going to be an annoying GPS.”

The Commander almost hoped the AI would respond with a snarky comment, but it seemed its programming had limits. A shame. Hopefully JULIAN would have some more personality when he advanced enough. Shen was just going to _love_ this new development.

With the AI watching them, they advanced forward into the city to test out its full capabilities.

***

_Kumamoto – Japan_

_11/27/2016 – 2:42 P.M._

Confusion. Terror. Pain.

The aliens were disorganized and fleeing. The ones that were still alive anyway.

There was no Overmind to protect them here, although for what reason she couldn’t determine, nor really had a desire to question. It made her job easier, and she figured it was just better to accept some convenient gifts for once. Sacramento had been an excellent time of experimentation, and thanks to the Imperator…expanding her horizons, so to speak, she was getting better at the micro aspects of telepathy.

That China had some kind of machine intelligence was…surprising…but it was something they would fix later. As of now she was more than content to kneel on the ground and simply concentrate. An artificial intelligence could not truly predict psionics, and she had elected not to allow the machine in her suit.

The Chinese hadn’t really pressed her on that. They presumably knew her reputation, and were quite happily keeping their distance. Right now she was in…an experimental state. She knew she was most effective when her eyes were closed, removing the possibility of visual distractions; she could ignore noises fairly easily by now, but she wanted to get better.

A master of telepathy would not need to have their eyes closed, but simply be able to perceive the world immediately around them, and what was far beyond them. This was as good a time as any to practice that, and so here she was. The result was that her vision was…out of focus; almost blurry but not quite. Sound was muted as usual, and her telepathic range was noticeably smaller.

But she would be able to overcome that. Eventually.

“I am impressed they managed to convert the CODEX for their own purposes,” the Imperator said, materializing out of nowhere as before. Unlike the rest of her vision, he was in clear focus, and this time taking the form of President Qin, and standing before several blurry Chinese soldiers as if expecting them. “Such a feat is worthy of praise, especially with such limited experience.”

Patricia knew now she couldn’t speak openly, but he was no doubt listening in her mind now. He’d vanished for several days, but she had expected him to debut once more here. _Where did they get one?_

“From the Dreadnought fragment,” the Imperator answered thoughtfully, scratching his chin with one hand. “In your rush to harvest as many resources as you could, XCOM failed to find the primary CODEX module, and when the Chinese acquired it, they immediately began working on it.”

Patricia felt a surge of annoyance. _And they never actually thought that we could use it? They were still in the Council, and had an obligation to turn over something of that magnitude to us! Nationalist scum._

“Mhmm,” the Imperator turned to her, smiling. “The Chinese do have much to answer for here, but I suspect now is not the time to force amends. If you truly _must_ do something, simply extract the information from their minds. There are those here who know more about this modified CODEX than they let on. They are needed in case something happens. Not all of them are common soldiers.”

_And you know who they are._

“Of course I do,” the Imperator confirmed easily. “And in the interest of maintaining our…working relationship, you may have them. I have no reason to protect the Chinese. They have stolen as much from my species as XCOM. Do with them what you will.”

The names suddenly appeared in her head, along with the general area of where their minds were. They were close enough that she could easily reach into their minds and extract the secrets that rightfully belonged to XCOM. However, she didn’t know if this was the right time. This was a battle, and her efforts were unfortunately better spent against the aliens.

Then again…why artificially limit herself? She knew what she needed to do, and all that was required was the strength to do it. But she was going to improve during this round, and made herself stand, while maintaining her psionic focus. The first thing she did was locate the alien minds in her immediate vicinity.

Easy targets. Ones that were trivial to her now. Primarily Muton and Vitakara, they stood out with their practically screaming minds; filled with the white noise of fear. A much larger percentage were non-combat services, probably engineers and technicians to repair the damage caused by the EMP.

Now, this time she wanted to be slightly more strategic in her telepathic efforts. XCOM could use more alien specialists, especially with China having control of a modified CODEX. She smiled to herself as she made herself walk forward, almost absentmindedly. It was strange, almost like she was not in full control of her body, but just propelling it forward by willpower alone, as if she was an avatar in a video game; an outsider of her own body.

In a way, she supposed she was.

She knew where things _were_ when she walked around; barricades, cables, rubble, things she wasn’t necessarily _seeing_ in her current dream-like state, but that she was nonetheless aware of. And right now, that was unimportant as she worked. She first isolated the minds of the alien soldiers, and gave them a very simple command: _Prepare the specialist aliens for transfer. Subdue, but avoid hurting them. Upon completion, eliminate each other._

Simple enough, and it would instill the desired effect in the soon-to-be captives. The good news for her was that they were clustered, and she simply sent out a _sleep_ command, and stopped walking briefly to acquire a more basic command of their minds. She slowed their beating hearts and made them physically feel more at ease.

_Everything is fine. Do not worry._

She hadn’t noticed it, but she realized that she had something of a guard around her now, and at the same time realized that she’d somehow slaved their minds to hers, and were at the moment connected to her own. Interesting; she hadn’t meant to do that, but it seemed to happen so…naturally.

“You are getting more skilled,” the Imperator complimented, stepping beside her. “The telepaths of the Empire were as you are now; in full awareness of the battlefield and those around them. These men and women do retain their minds in your presence, but they are now connected to your own. Utilize them as you would your soldiers, no speech necessary.”

Patricia found herself nodding at that, and out of curiosity decided to try some more experimentation. She wanted them to take cover at an upcoming intersection that had several alien barricades, and the moment the thought existed, they were already moving in that direction. Towards, she noticed, a half dozen Muton soldiers who were coming their way.

A near-oversight, but one she would easily rectify. Without ceasing her walk, she narrowed her focus on the bodily functions of the aliens charging forward. There were so many ways to kill, as she was finding out the more she experimented and thought about the gift she had been given. But sometimes the simplest ones were the most effective.

Stopping their hearts was such a motion, accompanied by one of her hands slowly clenching into a fist. No more blood pumped through their veins, and within seconds they were falling to the ground, clutching their chests and moaning in pain as she walked by. Well, they would have been moaning had she been able to hear them.

As it was right now, they were just corpses on the ground; their minds flickering out like candles one by one. More Chinese soldiers around her followed her march deeper into the city, and she decided to check on the status of her captives. Most of them were dead. Good, that meant that their primary objective had been completed.

She motioned towards the general direction of where their prisoners were, and a dozen Chinese soldiers wordlessly ran off to accomplish her unspoken directive. And as she had something of a reprieve, she figured she might as well take advantage of the information the Imperator had given her, and located the minds of the Chinese operators.

There was no psion to protect them, and their minds were easily taken over, and she didn’t waste time poking around heads any more than she had to. She was only there for the information XCOM was owed. Luckily their minds were easily navigable, and she finally found the information on their machine intelligence.

She smiled to herself, even as they were “ambushed” by a team of Borelians. A raised hand in their direction and the simple command of _die_ immediately took care of that problem; it was so easy she barely was distracted from her previous work. It was a simple command, which was highly open to interpretation. Most simply killed themselves, others rushed in suicidal charges, other times their bodies just shut down.

One command; many outcomes.

 _Ah, there we go_.

The Tiāngōng AI, China’s purported only hope of retaining any semblance of independence. Unfortunately the men were not engineers, so there were no technical details memorized, but there was a great deal about what it was capable of, what the usage of it was, and where exactly it was housed.

Interesting that they knew where it was, but then again, it needed supercomputers to truly run, even if China had also managed to fully restore the power source of the Dreadnought. Keeping this thing secret from _everyone_ was near-impossible, and many actually knew, even if they didn’t know what it was _for_.

The location was known. XCOM Intelligence could investigate later.

It seemed the Tiāngōng AI had two main purposes; to give China a tactical advantage over any foe, Human or alien, by tapping into terabytes of video, satellite, and personal data and allowing that to dictate their battle strategies. The AI was supposedly powerful enough to provide _each_ soldier with personal objectives and real-time support, such as falling back, advancing, or anything in between. This was in conjunction with every other soldier, and such a level of coordination would be impossible for anything other than a computer.

XCOM could certainly use this for the JULIAN Project.

The second purpose was to have some kind of leverage over ADVENT. It was an insurance policy of sorts, one area where they were more advanced than ADVENT. Of course, this wouldn’t last, but China would leverage this to get more from ADVENT than they might normally. AI technology was useful, and useful enough to potentially gain psionic technology.

China, planning for the future as usual.

Both the Commander and Saudia were going to be interested to hear about that.

With that acquired, she relinquished their minds and returned on her warpath, the soldiers around her waiting for her unspoken commands. “You would do well to prepare,” the Imperator suddenly said. “The Commander convinced Aegis to intervene. Caelior is at this moment preparing to attack.”

Patricia looked at the sharply detailed figure amidst the blur. _And you are telling me this because? It is appreciated, and we will prepare._

“I tell you this because he is coming _alone_ ,” the Imperator continued. “He has no support, no backup. He has unfortunately proven himself a liability to my plans, and it is in the best interests of both our species that he is disposed of. Aegis will certainly assist, but this is your opportunity to face an Ethereal – and _win_.”

Patricia cocked her head. _I doubt he’s left himself vulnerable._

“The Little Storm is an arrogant child who failed me,” the Imperator stated emotionlessly. “You know what can defeat him. I am curious to see how you do it.” He vanished.

The Imperator was a continuous puzzle. But if nothing else, she knew that he wouldn’t interfere.

She stopped, and adjusted her helmet to contact the Commander. This was one thing he needed to know about.

***

_Kumamoto – Japan_

_11/27/2016 – 4:23 P.M._

_“[Two enemies located, recommend firing on leftmost alien. Species unable to be identified.]”_

Nuan followed the instructions of the AI and fired at the alien specified. Unlike the intelligence, she could very easily see that it was a Muton, although its armor was not a pristine green and was covered in soot and dust. Not surprising that the AI had some kinks to work out, but Nuan knew that wouldn’t be a massive problem at least now.

Her euphoria over the whole situation was still strong, and the knowledge that China actually _had_ been working on such a tool had only exuberated that feeling. Not even XCOM had something like this, and while it obviously wasn’t perfect, it was already proving to be exceptionally useful. She fired several shots into the Muton when it popped back out of cover, and combined with supportive fire from Shun, brought it down.

The other alien, a Cobrarian soldier, hissed as Iosif charged it swinging his mace towards its head. It slithered back and into a defensive barrier created by Iosif, with two more materializing to pin it in place. In desperation it tried wrapping its serpentine body around his, although all it achieved was getting itself shot, as the AI instructed her to provide supportive fire.

One strike on the head disoriented it, and as the body wriggled on the ground, Iosif pinned it in place with his foot before bringing the mace once more down on its head and crushing it into the pavement. The Chinese soldiers advanced forward down the street, past the corpses of the aliens they had already killed.

The AI itself had truly shown itself to be far superior to a standard commander. Much as she now respected the Commander, there was no way that he could have orchestrated such a thorough and meticulous invasion that even now was cutting through the disorganized alien line even with more limited weaponry than ADVENT or XCOM.

Geist had held back, refusing to allow the AI into his suit, and deciding to focus on providing telepathic support. Where that was, Nuan didn’t know, but for once she just wanted to enjoy the feeling of actually being in the position of power. Iosif was similarly enjoying the shift of the power dynamics, and Shun was like her, impressed with the Chinese Tiāngōng Program.

A good name too. She felt it was appropriate.

 _“[Immediate threats in the vicinity clear,]”_ it said. It did need a better voice. It reminded her of a GPS, only with less expression in the tone. “ _[Recalculating.]”_

“Guess we keep moving until then,” Iosif said, joining her as they advanced down another street. The grey buildings around them seemed to have been largely untouched by the aliens during their occupation. Unsurprising, given the sheer number of them. They had converted some into bases or storage areas, but the majority were just abandoned.

“I’m surprised they are this disorganized,” Shun noted as she briefly knelt down by one of the Vitakarian corpses. “This is unlike the Collective.”

“That’s easy,” Iosif shrugged. “They weren’t prepared. This is close to their equivalent of D.C. coming under attack. Yes, they have a defense force, but they aren’t actually _prepared_.”

“A nuke did go off overhead,” Nuan reminded him.

A pause. “Fair point.”

“But they weren’t expecting us,” Nuan conceded. “Honestly didn’t think China would enter for some time yet. They’re cautious about entering this kind of situation.”

“Neither did I,” Shun agreed quietly. “But I am glad they did.”

They heard gunfire ahead of them as they got closer to the city center, and the AI immediately began giving her a short rundown of the situation. _“[Soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army are currently engaged in combat with alien forces. Currently there are fifteen aliens alive, with one identified Muton and fourteen unidentified aliens. Engagement recommended. Please confirm yes or no.]”_

She said yes of course, and was immediately directed towards cover behind several alien crates. There was a noticeable lack of cars or vehicles, or any sort of clutter on the streets, which Nuan figured was the result of the aliens clearing the cities out. But they had compensated with it by leaving clutter of their own in the form of barricades and supply crates which had been adapted as a kind of form of portable cover.

“ _[Target center-left unidentified alien,]”_ the AI ordered, helpfully flashing where it was located, and Nuan complied. It was a Borelian hiding behind several stacked crates, and her gauss burst forced it back into cover, although it didn’t do much to save itself as one of the Chinese soldiers tossed a grenade towards the alien, and it detonated right beside it.

Iosif charged two of the Mutons, swiftly lashing out and crushing their knees before finishing off with bashing their heads in. Yellow blood splattered from the caved-in skulls and Iosif was moving onto the other aliens even as the bodies were crumpling to the ground. As a result of his charge, the aliens near him were now in the unenviable position of getting out of there, and exposing themselves, or staying and almost certainly dying.

That was a choice she could get behind.

Nothing like the warm feeling of teamwork as she shot a fleeing Vitakarian in the back as Iosif closed in on the small group of aliens. They certainly worked well together, and for once, the aliens didn’t seem to be able to stop them.

However, she couldn’t quite ignore the fact that they were _probably_ not going to like what had happened here. The alien response would be coming, and she was somewhat nervous as to what that would entail. This was a response that could not be taken lightly.

***

_Zar’Chon’s Chambers, Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit_

_11/27/2016 – 3:22 P.M._

No matter which way this ended, Ravarian felt like they would never really recover from the damage this day had caused. When he’d heard that one of the reasons for the limited invasion was because they didn’t want to ‘provoke’ Aegis, he had assumed there was something more. That may be the case, but as it turned out, that had been a _very_ good reason to do so.

The Andromedons and Sectoids were not the Vitakara. Their people were not quite as sheltered and controlled. Even the Aui’Vitakar would be outraged by this…not to mention the entirety of the Runianarch and Lurainian. Even the majority of the Zararch were not privy to such knowledge, and right now…well, right now many of them were in shock that this was actually happening.

The Elders were supposed to be united, invincible, and to be obeyed above all else. How _could_ you feasibly react when seeing such a being fighting against you? Ravarian was more worried about just how badly this was going to shake the units on Earth. He was fearing sudden and mass defections once the news of this spread.

And this wasn’t something that he could just make disappear. He was going to have to deal with this very real and ugly truth. Unfortunately, he still wasn’t sure the best way to handle it. The Vitakara were going to have to be treated with some delicacy, and trying to cover it up simply wasn’t going to work in this case.

The hologram display on his palm flashed again, and he sighed as he saw yet another message from the Aui’Vitakar, and he sent his pre-written reply which was the equivalent of ‘We will discuss this later’, the same thing he’d sent to representatives from the Runianarch and Lurainian.

This was as close to a disaster as he had ever experienced in the Collective.

South Korea was done for. He’d seen Elders fight before, but it was clearly apparent that Aegis was one of the most powerful they had had. Anyone who could single-handedly defeat an army was one not to be trifled with. What was worse was that he _already_ had reports of Vitakara turning on their brethren once they’d heard what was happening, Mutons refusing to fire at an Elder, and even Andromedons immediately surrendering and then shooting anyone who didn’t comply.

He didn’t know how ADVENT would handle that, but that, he felt was going to only escalate the growing divisions within the Collective. The Ethereals couldn’t just sit this one out like they had been doing; for once they would need to exercise some diplomacy if they wanted to retain some measure of stability in the Collective.

The Andromedons were already furious with the development of the Spectres, and the news that the defection of an Ethereal had been kept from them was not going to help. The Federation itself was formally demanding an answer from the Imperator himself, and some of the smaller Unions were openly suggesting that the Ethereals were no longer worth following.

That alone was troubling since the smaller Unions very often worked as mouthpieces for the major Unions to say what they usually wouldn’t. But what worried him about this was that it wasn’t just the obvious suspects saying this through their Union puppets, like Viarior or Apear, but the ones who were _known_ supporters of the Ethereals like Stuirah and Jamoiar.

That was _bad_.

Very, very _bad_.

This entire situation could be summed up as _bad_.

And then there were the Sectoids.

Who were now preparing to hold one of the exceptionally rare conferences of the Hive Commanders, put forth by none other than 001 himself, as if it would be anyone else. And Ravarian suspected it was going to be due to the Commander’s little speech where he alluded to the suggestion that the Hive Commanders had been initially controlled by the Ethereals.

If that were true, he couldn’t really say. Quisilia hadn’t shared that with him, but he honestly wouldn’t be surprised at that. And having an _Ethereal_ on his side suddenly gave his word a lot more weight.

The greatest threat Aegis posed, Ravarian was starting to suspect, wasn’t necessarily his power.

It was what he _knew_.

He very likely knew what the Imperator had planned. He knew the secrets of the Ethereals. He knew what they had done and what they were planning. He knew about the Blacksites and the stains of the species such as Isomnum and the Creator. And he had no reason to keep that a secret any longer.

Ravarian was curious now: What exactly _had_ pushed him to not only leave, but willingly fight against his brethren?

Quisilia had a lot of explaining to do.

No, the _Ethereals_ had a lot of explaining to do. And this time, he wasn’t going to accept dancing around the question. This entire situation was the result of at least one or more Ethereals fucking up, and while he would have been more understanding if they had…well, largely interacted with the collective they had made, they hadn’t, with only a couple exceptions. They would have to fix this themselves or watch it fall apart around them.

The reveal of Aegis had effectively changed how this war was interpreted now. It was no longer against a single species, but now against an _Ethereal_. No matter how much the Humans would deny it, that was what it had turned into. And said Ethereal now had an entire species backing him; one filled with psions and an ever-improving military.

Yes. This was very _bad_.

And of course Caelior was going to make it worse. Ravarian did not honestly know what he was thinking with his decision to go down and actually _fight_ the Humans. Now was _not_ the time for revenge, much as he would wish. The Collective itself needed to be stabilized before the focus could return to Earth. Ravarian was not entirely unconvinced that the only reason the Battlemaster was letting him go down was to die, especially since he had given orders to ignore any commands Caelior might send. The only thing he had allowed was moving Cleanser Ships into position over Japan.

Well, the Ethereal was heading down there now. Ravarian did not expect the young Ethereal to win, especially not now, but as much as he didn’t like the Little Storm, he still felt he was more valuable alive than dead.

He just needed to be taken down a notch. Hopefully a defeat would accomplish that.

In the meantime, he had to figure out how to put out the fire that was brewing in the Collective. He couldn’t ignore that forever.

***

_Kumamoto – Japan_

_11/27/2016 – 5:00 P.M._

“Bring them in,” the Commander ordered Burning Sky as the AI updated him on the arrival of a UFO that had the same signatures as Caelior’s UFO. Thanks to Patricia’s…atypical warning, he’d figured that now was the time to bring in the XCOM squad specifically designed to bring him down. With Aegis also en route, after having pretty much demolished any kind of Collective attack in Korea, this plan suddenly became much more feasible.

Caelior’s greatest advantage was his power. Unfortunately for him he had the tendency to treat it like a hammer or blunt instrument. He had very little interest in individual targeting, and would instead just destroy the entire building they resided in to kill them. His telekinetic manipulation also essentially granted immunity to physical projectiles.

But not energy weapons.

Jayhawk Team, the original squad for dealing with Caelior, was just such a squad for him. They would be interspersed throughout the battlefield so in the event that Caelior decided to target one, he wouldn’t take all of them out with one single attack. In addition, they would be planted far enough back where he couldn’t reach them immediately.

Then there was the Archangel team which would operate along the same concept. All armed with sniper rifles, they would maintain the height advantage from behind and far above the Ethereal himself. _If_ all went well, the Ethereal would be under sustained laser assault, and the Commander trusted that his snipers would be able to hit even a moving target such as Caelior.

And since it appeared that the Overmind had given up protection of the Collective forces, the Commander was _reasonably_ sure that if he had a strong enough group of telepaths, it might be possible for him to be defeated that way. That the Imperator himself had apparently told Patricia this made him suspicious, however.

Caelior was not popular in the Collective. Yet at the same time, it didn’t make sense for him to really be sacrificed for…well, that was the issue. Aside from being an internal problem, the Commander could genuinely not see any reason for deliberately giving them, and even _encouraging_ them to kill _any_ Ethereal.

Perhaps it was a test? Maybe the Imperator didn’t care about the preservation of his species as much as he assumed?

Something didn’t add up.

It would almost be better to attempt to capture Caelior, instead of killing him, but that came with its own set of problems, not the least of which was that they didn’t have the capability to hold an Ethereal for any long-term period of time. It was simply impossible, and aside from constantly keeping him sedated with psionics, one mistake would have him wake up and kill everyone.

Too risky, and the information Caelior could provide was unlikely to be more than what Aegis had already. Were the Manchurian Restraints fully complete, he would genuinely consider it a fitting punishment for the Ethereal, but alas, they were not. There was some merit in keeping an Ethereal for more extensive testing purposes, which he couldn’t do to Aegis, but Caelior would suffice.

But again, it came back to the lack of appropriate restraints. How, exactly, could they prevent an Ethereal from using psionics at any point? There was a reason they weren’t experimenting on psionically awakened test subjects.

It was safer just to kill him.

Aegis wouldn’t like it, but he knew that the possibility was likely when he defected. Granted, capturing him would have perhaps a more detrimental effect on the Collective, but ultimately, that was useless unless he could be contained.

 _“I sense him coming,”_ Patricia updated. _“Geist, Fatima, you occupy him psionically. Don’t think you’ll break in, but he won’t be able to resist what I can do to him.”_

 _“Affirmative, Psion,”_ Geist stated. _“He will be occupied.”_

Patricia had also developed some new kind of telepathy very recently. She had only given him the very basic overview, but it turned out that by attacking the lower brain, she could essentially manipulate entire bodily functions. He was impressed by that revelation, as it honestly sounded like something that Geist would have figured out first.

But then again, Patricia had a lot more experience. And it was difficult enough that even explaining the concept to Geist, or Fatima for that matter, hadn’t really led them to figure it out for themselves. Perhaps that could be solved with an information transfer, but that was something to figure out later.

 _“Coming up with our resident Ethereal,”_ Big Sky updated smugly. _“He asked to be dropped off nearby.”_

“Good timing,” the Commander said, spotting the UFO in the distance through his scope. “We’ve got Caelior incoming. Let’s see how this machine handles it.”

 _“Processing new information,”_ the machine intelligence said in the typical monotone. _“Making adjustments based on previously acquired data.”_

The skyranger roared overhead and Aegis dropped from it onto a nearby skyscraper. Without wasting any time, the Ethereal straightened and was already enshrined in psionic energy. Until recently the Commander hadn’t known Aegis even _had_ a battle suit, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by it.

It made a lot more sense than wearing the equivalent of a robe into battle.

“Heads up, he’s on his way,” the Commander stated as he saw Caelior deploy from under his UFO, with a new and fully repaired hoverboard-like device, and in the same battle equipment he’d seen before. “Jayhawk team, are you in position.”

 _“Affirmative, Commander,”_ Seraph Jim Cuban answered. _“Preparing to ascend and split. We’ll let him get a little closer before opening fire. Or on your command.”_

“Wait for my command, or Aegis’,” he advised. “Everyone else on the ground have lines of sight?”

There was a chorus of affirmations, and the Commander looked over to where Aegis was. “Do you think they’ll bombard us?”

 _“Quite possible,”_ Aegis confirmed, lifting one hand up. _“But they will not be able to penetrate a psionic barrier.”_ As he finished, the sky itself was suddenly tinted with a very visible purple barrier that reminded the Commander of what being inside a deployable transparent bubble shield would be like. He briefly looked around and saw that the barrier seemed to extend as far as he could see.

Well, that problem was solved.

 _“Traitor!”_ The voice of Caelior roared and reverberated through the city. It must have been enhanced with psionics for it to actually reach his ears. Caelior himself was now speeding towards them, his body also wrapped in clear psionic energy. _“You will die for this, Aegis! As will every Human here. Your attempt to challenge us will end!”_

“Fire.”

Nine beams of sizzling red energy shot out from the city and above, including his own. Most hit his torso which sizzled the fabric away, though failed to actually penetrate the body. A couple shots hit the helmet but also didn’t penetrate, and the remaining ones hit the hoverboard, causing it to spark and shudder.

Caelior disengaged and kicked the board away just before it exploded. _“Die, Humans!”_ And with a wave of his hand, the front line of skyscrapers were shattered. The structures of metal, concrete, and wood were splintered as easily as glass. The unfortunate soldiers caught in the wave suffered mercifully little as the wave liquefied them before they had a chance to comprehend what was happening.

The hovering Ethereal didn’t stop as he motioned with another hand towards another large skyscraper, and clenched a fist, crushing it easily and letting the rubble fall to the ground, while he shot another telekinetic blast down a street, which also liquefied the soldiers as well as take out the bases of the buildings across that street.

The good news was that there were thankfully not large clusters of soldiers just waiting to be obvious targets. The Chinese soldiers were obviously firing at the Ethereal, but from what the Commander could tell, in very interspersed ways. Perhaps it had learned something; not clumping all soldiers together was probably the best possible scenario here.

Aegis had also apparently had enough and the city in front of Caelior was suddenly guarded by skyscraper-sized barricades before the buildings that were still standing. _“Leave now, Caelior. This species is under my protection. I do not wish even you to die today.”_

 _“Words from a traitor and fool!”_ Caelior sneered, settling himself on the ground. _“You do not intimidate me. You are a broken remnant of what you were_.”

“We still need lines of sight,” the Commander told Aegis, because as useful as the barriers were, as a consequence it blocked their lines of sight, with the exception of the Archangels.

The red beams still came down from sky, and with each hit, they distracted Caelior enough to where he turned to look to the sky…just as two more massive beams from the sea fired. Chinese vessels, using primitive laser tech. One hit Caelior directly in the back, spinning him around while the other collided into one of Aegis’s barriers.

 _“I will suffer this no longer,”_ Caelior growled, extending two hands to the ground, and one to the vessels out on the sea. The Commander watched with amazement as the ships in the distance crumpled as easily as toys and the destroyed wrecks simply sank deep into the ocean.

“Patricia, what’s your status,” the Commander said, as the ground began shaking. “We need him taken down now!”

 _“She’s busy,”_ Geist interjected as the shaking became more intense. _“He is…stronger than even I anticipated. He is furious, and that ironically gives him more focus than he would otherwise. It is difficult to break his concentration, and he also appears to be simulating an earthquake right now.”_

It certainly felt that way, and the shaking was becoming intense enough that it was impossible to actually hold his weapon steady. “Aegis!” He called to the other Ethereal. “Can you handle him?”

 _“I can.”_ The elder Ethereal waved a hand and a shimmering horizontal barrier materialized a short distance away from Caelior and slammed into him with enough force to send him flying backwards until he was almost in the water. Two more barriers materialized to the sides of him, but Caelior was more aware now, and leapt upwards just in time to avoid them.

He landed running towards the city, clapping two of his hands forward and sending a shockwave towards Aegis’s barriers, which _did_ noticeably rattle them, and followed that by thrusting a hand down and creating another severe tremor in the ground. A box of psionic defenses suddenly appeared around the Ethereal, effectively trapping him inside.

 _“You think this will hold me!?”_ He yelled. _“I cannot be contained by this!”_

As a presumed response to that, he spread his hands all around him, and all of the rubble from the previously destroyed structures, corpses of Humans and aliens alike, as well as everything else rose into the air and at a gesture was flung upwards at an angle that would presumably bypass Aegis’s barrier and rain down on those behind it.

Aegis simply responded by extending the barrier upwards, angled in such a way that when the debris hit, they would just slide back down the psionic barrier to the ground. The Commander hoped that Aegis could keep this up a bit longer, but also saw from a glance above that the shield Aegis had erected for deterring bombardments was sustaining fire.

 _“Clever…”_ the young Ethereal rasped, seeming to take a moment to pause. _“[Why did you leave us?]”_

The Commander didn’t know if they’d been speaking the Ethereal language this whole time and he’d only realized at this point, or this was the first time. It appeared the knowledge Aegis shared was still good. A bit strange to know something he had never formally learned, but interesting nonetheless.

Aegis waited a moment before answering. _“[Because there was no other way. The Imperator is no longer interested in our original mission. His efforts have been corrupted by something else.]”_

 _“[You are deluded if you actually believe that.]”_ Caelior snarled, clenching one of his fists. _“[We will destroy the Synthesized as we intend. The plan for that has not changed, Aegis.]”_

 _“[And if that is the case, then why are we here?]”_ Aegis shot back. _“[Earth! The Humans! Why are we fighting them? Why would we do so if we need allies and soldiers?]”_

 _“[Because…]”_ Caelior paused suddenly. _“[The Imperator has his reasons, even if he does not share them with me. They pose a threat only he can see, or otherwise are a piece of a puzzle.]”_

 _“Good work, Aegis,”_ Geist said. _“He is no longer focused.”_

 _“[That is what he wants you to think!]”_ Aegis insisted. _“[I had made my concerns about our direction known to him, and as a result, he silenced me from it reaching others! If you ask him questions, you will receive the same treatment I did.]”_ To the Commander’s surprise, the barriers suddenly disappeared, including the ones around Caelior. _“[Even if you kill me today, that will not change. All you will ensure is that our direction is irreversible and doom our species once and for all.]”_

 _Aegis, what the hell are you doing?_ He was certainly good at putting the young Ethereal off balance, but he better be ready to throw up those barriers again. He couldn’t be fool enough to actually trust him, so it was probably a gambit.

 _“[That’s…ah,]”_ Caelior suddenly stumbled forward, he gingerly put one hand on his helmet. _“[You…what are you doing to me?]”_

 _“Thank you, Aegis,”_ Patricia suddenly said, and he saw the psion enveloped in purple walking out towards the Ethereal who had fallen to one knee. _“I’ll take it from here.”_

***

_Kumamoto – Japan_

_11/27/2016 – 5:41 P.M._

The mind of an Ethereal was unlike anything she had ever felt, although considering the level of the brain she was targeting, that was likely no surprise. It was…not nearly as simple as that of a lesser alien; a Muton or Vitakara. Ethereal bodies, at least at the moment, seemed more complex to her, more alien. Things were in supposedly normal places, but with their innate psionic potential, it made things cloudy.

While Geist and Fatima were focused on his higher brain functions, she attempted to puzzle out what went on beneath his surface thoughts. While he technically wasn’t protected by an innate telepathic defense, his other psionic abilities were making it more difficult for her to get her bearings on exactly what worked.

“This would be easier if you had spent time in an Ethereal mind before now,” the Imperator commented from behind her. “It usually is in this case. Rarely does one start with the base of the mind and work up.”

“Shut up and let me concentrate,” Patricia muttered, only superficially aware of the destruction going on around her. She was mildly surprised the Imperator was sticking around. If there was ever a time where he was going to backstab her and help Caelior, it would be now.

Yet for some reason, she doubted it. He had the attitude of one more interested in the spectacle than one who actually wished to take part in it.

She ignored him, and worked more to burrow deeper into the mind of the Ethereal and try and figure out how this actually worked. His brain was, as much as she could tell, highly energized at the moment. What passed for his heart was pumping rapidly and there was definitely something that was getting sent to his brain, a hormone or something like that.

“Correct,” the Imperator nodded approvingly. “Chemical impulses. Not the same as Humans, or any alien species for that matter, but they can be manipulated just like any other part of the body. These generally accompany feelings of anger and judgement.”

Caelior was shouting words now, and she only heard parts of them as she tried to figure out some way to…at least halt the impulses, if not change them. She knew there was some kind of impulse that would calm him down, but right now cutting the source of the problem at the moment would, at least, make him less volatile.

And… _there_.

 _Stop_.

And there it went. Well, she’d done it and allowed herself to become slightly more aware of the real world. Aegis and him were exchanging words in their tongue, which she didn’t understand. The Commander did, but to her it was more of an oddly rhythmic harmonic exchange between the two beings.

“What are they saying?” Patricia asked.

“Aegis is trying to distract him,” the Imperator answered with a smirk on his face. “Appeal to his better nature or some other foolish gesture. I suspect it is purely for your benefit. Be prepared to finish him off.”

“Awfully callous of you,” Patricia grunted as she returned her attention to the lower mind of the Ethereal, one which was becoming easier to infiltrate and manipulate. “You certainly want him dead.”

“That he is succumbing to you is proof enough of his ineptitude,” the Imperator stated coldly. “I allowed him a chance to live, learn, and grow from the false prodigy he was. He has proven incapable of such. He no longer is worth my consideration. His purpose will be better served like this.”

 _“Good work, Aegis,”_ Geist suddenly interjected. _“He is no longer focused.”_

The world flickered around her and she became fully immersed in the brain of the alien. Each flickering line led somewhere different, and it was becoming a matter of plucking the strings to get a response. So she did, and she felt terror suddenly envelop the alien. “You caused his heart to skip a beat,” the Imperator explained. “ _Good_.”

Alright, so that was what that did. Let’s see what happened if she plucked the string a little longer…

Her eyes saw the Ethereal fall to one knee, saying something in his language she didn’t need to know, as it was likely along the lines of “What are you doing to me?”

“I am going to kill you,” she said, lips curling into a grin, fingers twitching as she eased on the string that controlled his heart, allowing it to function briefly. She turned on her helmet mic to the rest of them as she began walking towards the fallen Ethereal. “Thank you, Aegis,” she said. “I’ll take it from here.”

She had broken the barriers, and now she had something she had once thought was a far-fetched notion – control of the mind of an Ethereal. Granted, it wasn’t necessarily in the traditional way, but it was control nonetheless, and this was something that the majority could not fully defend against. It appeared that telepathy was not as well understood by some of them as they would like to believe.

Patricia let the world briefly fade as she returned to the mind of Caelior more clearly, and saw the map of his brain clearly again, like working piping or an interconnected map. Nerves also fit this picture, and…well, she had access to them in their most basic form. No more simple commands that the brain would interpret.

No, this time the pain that would be felt would not be able to be described.

She extended one hand, palm vertical to the ground and simply commanded the nerves to briefly overload. Caelior suddenly howled in excruciating pain, and fully collapsed to the ground, shaking and yelling. That had not even been a second, and it had rendered the proud Ethereal a shaking wreck on the ground.

“You!” He shouted at the approaching Patricia. “What did you-“

 _“You are a test,”_ she answered, voice deeper than normal, indicating the depths of her psionic usage. She gestured with a finger and sent another microsecond of agony against him. He screamed again, convulsing on the ground. _“I will acquire what I need from you, and then I will kill you.”_

“I…I will not _die_ like this!” He spat, trying to rise. Patricia narrowed her eyes, and decided to try another piece of his mind she hadn’t experimented with. She clenched her hand into a fist, and the Ethereal began choking a few seconds later as his lungs refused to pump oxygen any longer. She let it continue for close to half a minute before she allowed him to breathe.

 _“Yes,”_ she said quietly. _“You will die. It is only a matter of how long and how painful. You have killed many people. Today you’ve killed more. There will be justice for this, and it will be at my hand.”_

“ _No!_ ” Caelior insisted. “Aegis! He will not let me die! The Imperator! He will not let me die, not to _you_. Not to a _Human_.”

Patricia smiled under her helmet. _“Is that right?”_ She knelt down closer to the Ethereal. _“Then call for him, he will not answer you. You failed your mission, and you failed him. And Aegis…”_ she glanced behind her to see the other Ethereal and the Commander walking forwards. _“Aegis will not kill you, no. But he will not stop me.”_

“Patricia!” Aegis called. “Wait!”

Caelior chuckled. “Are you sure of that?”

She responded by letting him experience unfathomable pain for three full seconds, pulling back her fingers into a single fist as Aegis walked up to visibly demonstrate the control she had over him. “ _What?”_

“You have beaten him,” Aegis said simply. “There is no need to torture him.”

 _“I am experimenting,”_ she answered, turning back to the Ethereal on the ground. _“And since I have limited opportunities, I have to take what I can get. You would not be a viable…candidate, Aegis, and he does not deserve comfort, nor mercy.”_

“And you plan to kill him,” Aegis interrupted. “Look at him! Does he pose a threat?”

Patricia looked back towards Aegis, and raised a fist as she once more cut off the airflow of the alien. _“Not anymore,”_ she answered softly as the Ethereal choked behind her. _“This is not up to you, Aegis, you knew what the consequences of this war were. Dead Ethereals. If you cannot accept that, then you should not have joined us.”_

The Commander crossed his arms. “She has a point, Aegis. We’re not ending this war without a lot more dead Ethereals. I know you…don’t like it, but-“

“That isn’t the point here!” Aegis interrupted, pointing to Caelior as Patricia reluctantly let him breathe again. “You heard what he said! The Imperator was using him just as he does everyone! _Think_! The Imperator would not just sacrifice one with his power unless there was something to be gained from it. He _wants_ him dead!”

Patricia could imagine the frown under his helmet as the Commander spoke. “You also make a good point. But from what we know about Caelior and his…actions.” He gave a dismissive glance towards the shaking Ethereal. “It could be simpler. Caelior was a loose cannon, a liability, and ultimately someone not worth keeping. While I wouldn’t sacrifice him, I can see why the Imperator would.”

The Imperator chuckled, appearing behind Caelior. “So unfortunate the Commander is on the opposite side. While predictable, he has a grasp of the choices one must make to achieve the ultimate goal.”

He was still invisible to the others, it seemed.

“ _Does it actually matter?”_ Patricia demanded, absently toying with the mind of her Ethereal captive, seeing what certain manipulations caused. _“Even if the Imperator gains from this, so do we.”_ Caelior suddenly spat golden blood from his helmet. Hm, so that was what happened. She’d have to try that again. _“And why should we spare him, Aegis? Really, why? He’s killed thousands and is not in any way remorseful.”_

“I could say the same for you, me, or any of us,” Aegis countered. “And considering how much enjoyment you derive from your abilities, I hardly think you are in a position to judge Caelior.”

 _“That does not mean he should live,”_ she spat. _“You just want to keep one of your kind alive!”_

“And I do not support your method of execution!” Aegis countered, stepping forward, now notably agitated. “It is one thing to kill him, it is another to draw it out.”

 _“Then leave,”_ Patricia growled, sending another wave of agony to Caelior. _“No one is making you watch. I will not waste this opportunity for the sake of my conscience. Too much is riding on what I can do, and this is one who deserves it.”_

“Patricia!” The Commander interrupted, stepping forward. “Much as I would prefer to see him dead, Aegis does make another point.” He pointed at Caelior. “We do not needlessly torture our captives. You beat him. You won. We kill him or take him captive. Unnecessarily prolonging it is beneath us, do I make myself clear?”

Patricia stared at him for a few seconds, thoughts swirling around her. She almost wished that the Imperator would interject something. She wasn’t in the right state of mind to really be thinking this through. Every instinct in her screamed to kill the alien before her in as painful a method as possible, yet the Commander _was_ her superior.

“Then what are your orders?” She finally said, the psionic power diminished enough that her voice was normal.

The Commander looked at the defeated Ethereal for a moment. “I heard the conversation, Aegis. Do you think he could be useful?”

“Possibly,” Aegis said immediately. “I do not wish to make promises, but he was a pawn of the Imperator. If he realizes that…”

“Not good enough,” the Commander shook his head. “I’m not betting on that. We need a way to secure him long-term, until this could be sorted out. The problem is that I don’t know how.”

“Patricia,” Aegis said, looking to her. “Could you keep him…sedated? Or kept unconscious?”

She took a few moments to look into the tangle that composed the mind of the alien. She pursed her lips. “Yes. I’m unfamiliar with how his mind fully works, so there might be complications…but nothing that would kill him. I could likely keep him in an unconscious state as long as it was intermittently maintained.”

“And by ‘intermittently’, you mean?”

“Don’t know,” Patricia admitted. “I’ve never done this before. Every few hours. Maybe longer once I get more experienced.”

“That would solve the short-term storage problem,” the Commander said slowly. “But keeping you as his personal psionic ward isn’t going to happen.”

“There are additional options beyond simply killing him,” Aegis pointed out. “There are the stasis pods. And there are drugs which are powerful enough to keep us sedated for long periods of time. Non-lethal solutions are not out of the realm of possibility. And…” he looked down. “He is beaten. He poses no more threat to us.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?” Patricia demanded. “You don’t know the risk he poses!”

“Patricia has a point,” the Commander admitted. “Caelior as it stands is still a danger. He’s unstable, even when he is supposedly an ally. I don’t see this improving with him being captured.”

“There…is a possible solution…” Aegis said slowly. “A procedure done to Ethereals who had broken our laws, but were not deemed worthy of execution. It would likely render him…tranquil, although destroy both his personality and mind in the process.”

“Really?” The Commander looked to Aegis. “And that’s better than killing him?”

Aegis looked almost sadly down at the Ethereal. “A blank slate is preferable to…this. Or to death. He could still learn. He would be more valuable to you alive this way. But there is no reason that must be the solution. He can be restrained without such permanent measures.”

“A shame the Manchurian Restraints aren’t ready,” the Commander mused. “He would be an excellent candidate. But if what you suggest is possible, this could suffice. If either the procedure fails, or he becomes too high a risk, we can kill him later.”

He nodded to Patricia. “We’ll take him captive. _For now_.” He shot a glance at Aegis.

She nodded and focused on the defeated Ethereal. It took several minutes to figure out how it would go…but she eventually found it, and unlike before, gradually manipulated it to send the Ethereal into a coma-like state where he would pose no danger.

_You got off easy. You should be dead._

She stood, not feeling like this was the right decision, but knowing her place, and that was following her Commander. She only hoped he knew what he was doing, and this wasn’t going to end up being a Trojan horse.

“I can’t blame you,” the Imperator said, looking at her from behind the silent body of Caelior. “But you followed the orders of your Commander. I can understand and respect that. It is good you can restrain yourself when needed. Do not worry, I am sure the time will come for you to avenge the deaths he has caused. The figures behind this war are more than Caelior.”

She heard the skyranger overhead, and glanced up to see it landing near them. When she looked back, the figure of the Imperator was gone. A mild surprise, but right now she was ready to welcome only one voice into her head – her own.

“Guess we should get him ready for transport,” the Commander said as several XCOM soldiers walked over with restraints. “Let’s hope Vahlen is up for this.”

“What are you going to tell Saudia?” Patricia asked.

“That we’ve taken care of the problem,” the Commander answered. “I suspect she won’t like it, but Ethereals are our purview. Not ADVENT’s or China’s.”

“Does she know that?”

“I doubt it,” the Commander admitted whimsically. “But she will now. She probably would have killed him too, if you were wondering.”

Patricia sighed. “I really hope you know what you’re doing. He should be dead.”

“Maybe,” the Commander glanced to Aegis. “But we’ve made it this far by taking some risks. If this turns out to gift us an Ethereal weapon, I think it was worth it. But make no mistake…” he looked at the soldiers carrying the body into the skyranger. “If he becomes a threat, I will let you kill him yourself.”


	32. A Modest Request

 

_Unknown Location – Argentina_

_11/28/2016 – 11:32 A.M._

This, Volk thought, had certainly been a very interesting couple of weeks. Quite a lot had happened after ADVENT had decided to launch attacks to reclaim America. That alone would have been interesting, but what made it _very_ interesting was China suddenly coming into the fold, and launching an invasion to retake Japan.

That had been a surprise, but he had to admire them taking that kind of chance _knowing_ that it was going to basically paint a giant target on their backs. He had personally never liked China; they were one of the worst kind of governments to exist in the world, and even compared to ADVENT they weren’t much better. He wasn’t opposed to them getting their due retaliation in time.

He did feel somewhat bad for the millions of Chinese people who were likely being drafted into service.

There had also been that one little detail that Asaru had somehow forgotten to mention to him.

Namely that there was a fucking Ethereal _working_ with XCOM.

Suddenly, quite a few things became clear.

He was, however, quite enjoying watching the media frenzy over the whole situation, not counting the fact that the _other_ Ethereal had been taken prisoner by XCOM, but they were largely focused – or obsessed – with the Ethereal called Aegis. There was a whole range of theories being discussed from him manipulating XCOM, to this war not actually being against Humans, but _him_.

Volk took a sip of vodka from his glass. It was a bit early to drink, but he was quite looking forward to hearing how Asaru would spin this. The good news was that the command center was essentially completed, and he did have to admit that it was a major step up from his makeshift house. Moving all his things into the silver room was a bit strange, but he’d gotten used to it quickly.

Now he had his old TV before the far wall, with him sitting in his recliner while Asaru, in the form of a Vitakarian woman, and Joreal sat on the couch angled just beside his own. It was pretty small for Joreal, but Asaru seemed fine. He still hadn’t been able to really figure out just what the relationship between the two of them was. Asaru was very comfortable with him, resting her head on him, and he would have normally assumed them to be involved, were it not for the fact that Asaru was quite literally, _not real._

It was weird.

Elena stood off to the side, leaning against a counter and seemed almost more interested watching them than the news footage. Volk, on the other hand, was more eager to actually see what they had to say. Considering how little convincing it had taken to get her here, he imagined she knew exactly what they needed to discuss.

But he’d decided to illustrate his point by first showing the very public news footage.

He sat up, closing the leg rest and clasping his hands together. To his credit, Joreal didn’t really look comfortable and Volk figured he could be a little smug. “So, was this something that just slipped your mind?”

Joreal pursed his lips. “While I cannot speak for Asaru, I had no knowledge of this. It is…concerning.”

“Of course I knew about it,” Asaru stood up and looked down at Volk. Elena already had a hand on her pistol, although while her eyes were on the Ethereal projection, her body was angled towards Joreal in the event Asaru did something. Smart woman, but he doubted that would be necessary. “Something like this isn’t kept from me.”

“Wonderful,” Volk answered sarcastically, scratching his beard. “Now then, don’t you think this _might_ have been some good information to share? In the interest of our alliance and all.”

Asaru tapped her chin. “For what it’s worth, I would have told you. However, I had my orders. The Battlemaster wanted this kept under wraps for obvious reasons, and I can only assume the Imperator agreed. You’re used to doing whatever you want, but that isn’t how things are done by the majority of beings in this galaxy. There are hierarchies, rules, and guidelines. And I have respect for the chain of command, even if it is rarely applicable to me.”

She finished with a smile. The supposed leader of the Ethereals had never really been mentioned much in the time she’d been here. It was always the Battlemaster who was the leader. From what Volk had learned, very few outside of the Ethereals actually knew anything about the Imperator himself.

Odd for a leader. Even Saudia was at least a public figure, even if her background was suspect. He didn’t quite like the idea of a supposed leader who seemed not to do anything, but Ethereals weren’t Humans. They probably did some things differently.

As for what she said, he was not exactly _convinced_ of her honesty. It was plausible, but it would depend on how she took some further questions. “Well, in that case, why did the Battlemaster want it kept suppressed?”

One of her eyes widened, which was what he’d interpreted as a raised eyebrow. Or would, if Vitakarians had those. “Is that an actual question? If this got out, it would be… _damaging_ for the Collective, to say the least. And would possibly inspire some unsavory and treasonous individuals to make some questionable decisions.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Volk smirked. “But see, I’m not part of the Collective, remember? And on Earth, I need to know what I’m dealing with. How, exactly, do you think Argentina is going to react to this news? They might become spooked enough to report us to ADVENT or plain refuse to talk to us. If you’d have actually _told_ me, I might have been able to at least get a pre-emptive start on damage control. Or maybe make them feel more inclined to _trust_ you by giving up such important information.”

That did seem to make Asaru stop whatever she was going to say. “You’re rather bold, Volikov, but I suppose that is the point. And in this case, you are not wrong. However, this was a blanket command, and there were no exemptions.”

“Whatever,” Volk dismissed with a wave of his hand and a sigh. “But this is _not_ happening again if you want this to continue, and if you have any, ah, ‘orders’, please get that cleared up immediately.”

“And what do you want, Volk?” Joreal asked. “An apology?”

“I already got an acknowledgement, which is fine for me,” Volk answered flatly. “But I want some answers now. Are there any other Ethereals or major aliens who are against you?”

“Not any worth worrying about,” Asaru answered, going back to sit on the couch. “However, in the interest of some transparency, there is a traitor Zararch agent we have been monitoring in the Collective. He is under control, however.”

That wasn’t really relevant, so Volk dismissed it. Better than nothing. “And how bad is it that Aegis is now openly against you?”

“Aegis,” Asaru said slowly. “Is very dangerous. In short, it is quite a problem. It is one reason the Battlemaster didn’t reveal the situation. He wanted Aegis to keep his anonymity in exchange for him being…uninvolved personally. Needless to say our operations have become a lot more dangerous. He is one of the most powerful Ethereals, and the capture of Caelior is…troubling.”

Well, some progress on that front. He was inclined to believe her here. “I suppose the more important question is if he can be beaten?”

“Anyone can be beaten,” Asaru snorted. “But yes, eventually. It will…not be easy.”

“So,” Volk crossed his arms. “Do you want me to kill him?”

Joreal laughed. “No offense, Volk, but you’re not…well, you would die.”

“Really,” was all he said. “Asaru, are Ethereals immune to poison? Can they hold against nanotech?”

“Our immune systems are excellent,” Asaru answered. “However, there are a few toxins and combinations which can be lethal to us in large doses or long incubation periods. And nanotech…mmm…I quite like your implication.”

“Good,” Volk nodded. “Now, do you want to stop toying around with ADVENT and actually get something done? Because I have ideas and if Aegis is as big of a threat as you say, there shouldn’t be any more holding back. Your army is, quite honestly, disappointing for a collective that is far more advanced.”

“The Battlemaster has realized the same thing,” Asaru nodded. “And now I am curious. What do you have in mind?”

Volk sat back down, lazily resting his head on one hand. “We need to be able to prove to Argentina that they can be protected. Right now your allies are failing miserably.”

“And how do you propose that be fixed?” Joreal asked.

“Start small,” Volk said. “Take some initiative. Argentina is our ally right now, but they are fickle and will fold if they feel threatened. Like most of this continent, they are more concerned about themselves than anyone else. Identify someone there first. An ally of sorts who is the kind of leader we can support. Protect him or her. Remove their opponents.”

“A coup then,” Joreal noted.

“Only if you’re an idiot about it,” Volk shrugged. “And while you’re doing that, I would suggest some very public figures in ADVENT start suffering accidents. I’m under the impression your Sectoids are good with bioweapons, right? Maybe wipe out the soldier population. Make ADVENT weakened in this part of the world. Something to show you can actually protect them against Aegis and ADVENT.”

“ADVENT will notice this,” Asaru said thoughtfully.

Volk sighed. “You have no idea what a proxy is? That’s what _we_ are for. Human terrorists who can take the brunt of the blame. That’s the _point_. Yes, ADVENT will respond, but it won’t be as large of a response as if aliens just started appearing. And for as powerful as you are, you aren’t as subtle as you think. I’m Human. I know what they’ll focus on. I can make attacks look like they came from terrorists, _not_ aliens.”

Asaru smiled. “I like you, Volk. Tell me then, what exactly will you need?”

***

_Alien Containment Chamber, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_11/28/2016 – 1:11 A.M._

At least one amusing thing had come out of this situation. Vahlen’s response had been rather hilarious.

 _“Vahlen, we’re heading back,”_ he’d said. _“Ready the alien containment chamber. I hope you’re ready to analyze an Ethereal.”_

 _“Excellent!”_ She’d answered, before pausing. _“Wait. Alien containment…did you…?”_

 _“Yes, we’re bringing Caelior in. Alive,”_ he’d confirmed. _“Aegis believes we can hold him. At the very least, he can be analyzed by you. Assuming you’re up for it?”_

There had been some shocked silence. _“I…I’ll get everything ready. A live Ethereal! I mean another one! One I can test more freely.”_

Now he, Patricia, Aegis and the rest of the Internal Council were standing outside the containment chamber where Vahlen and her team were running a series of tests and taking samples on Caelior himself. Patricia was still in her armor and her eyes were closed, as she kept the Ethereal in a sedated state.

“I really hope this doesn’t backfire,” the Commander muttered, and he pressed a button which asked for permission to speak to Vahlen and her team, all of whom were in full sealed surgical gear. Interrupting them out of nowhere would have been a bad idea.

Vahlen pressed a button on her suit to communicate with them as the Commander asked the first question. “What’s your status on him?”

 _“Physical scans are complete, and we’ve been exploring ways to try and make him less…dangerous,”_ she answered, walking over to the glass and stripping the gloves from her hands and moved a screen showing a highlighted representation of the Ethereals body. _“While I have extremely limited experience with Ethereal anatomy, at least in performing surgery, thanks to Aegis we do have some options in how we handle him.”_

“I don’t suppose we could send him into a coma?” Jackson asked hopefully.

 _“Not with what we have right now,”_ Vahlen shook her head, glancing back at her team. _“I mean, theoretically I could try and accomplish something like that, but it might kill him. Which I’m assuming we don’t want.”_

“Preferably not,” Aegis agreed. “Dr. Vahlen, I presume you have mapped out his nervous system?”

 _“Yes,”_ she nodded. _“I think we have the same idea. The largest threat Caelior poses to us is his telekinesis. This is something that is traditionally accompanied by gestures.”_

“Not necessarily,” the Commander reminded her.

 _“It makes it easier,”_ she amended. _“Much easier. Take those away, and even if Caelior wakes up and wants to kill us…he won’t be able to do it well unless he concentrates.”_

“And Caelior cannot concentrate easily,” Aegis sighed. “He lacks the discipline, and disrupted as he is, taking away his movement would cripple him immensely.”

“Well, good I guess,” Jackson said slowly. “So what, we cut off his arms?”

 _“No,”_ Vahlen shook her head. _“We paralyze him.”_

Hm. That was a good idea. “Can you do that?” The Commander asked. “More importantly, can it be reversed?”

 _“Yes, and yes,”_ Vahlen confirmed, pointing at the screen. _“It’s a matter of severing specific nerves, which can later be reattached. It would, of course, take him time to adjust, but until then he would be completely paralyzed.”_

“How easily could he be put into a coma?” Zhang asked.

 _“If we had the right materials, easily,”_ Vahlen said slowly, looking to Aegis. _“I did receive the list of drugs you used in the Empire for surgery on Ethereals. The problem is that for some, they are materials that simply don’t exist on Earth, or will take days to synthesize…assuming we get them right the first time. We still have the issue of long-term storage.”_

“In that capacity,” Aegis corrected. “There are still many unused containment pods here. Some are large enough to fit him.”

 _“‘Fit’ is a stretch,”_ Vahlen disputed slowly. _“They…could work. Barely. But they weren’t designed to hold an Ethereal and we haven’t used them since we stuck some of the old German government in them. And those were already prepared for Humans. Ethereal physiology is different. It’s not exactly a one-size-fits-all pod.”_

“I can assist with that,” Aegis said. “However, before such an action is taken, I want to speak with him at least once so he is aware of what is going on.” He looked to the Commander. “That is acceptable, yes? Assuming safeguards are in place, there should not be a reason to not inform your captive of his immediate fate.”

The Commander thought about it briefly. “Fine. Only once Vahlen has ensured that he is wired with neural explosives, has paralyzed him, and we have multiple telepaths in his mind. I don’t think the procedure you suggested will be necessary if he cooperates.”

“To be completely safe, I would suggest that none of us be in the room when we speak to him,” Zhang stated bluntly, eyeing the surgery taking place. “If it goes badly, there is little to stop him from at least killing those around him. At minimum, Commander, you should participate at a distance.”

“I would be able to protect you,” Aegis insisted. “In the condition Caelior will be in, his offensive ability is severely stunted. He will be more open to speaking to someone present, not through microphones.”

“I will repeat once more that he should not be here,” Zhang directed icily towards Aegis, turning his eyes towards him. “He is a severe security risk, no matter the precautions. Without the Manchurian Restraints, we can never safely have _any_ Ethereal held here.”

“As long as he is mentally dominated, this isn’t an issue,” the Commander defused, raising a hand. “However, Zhang has a point. This highlights an issue with how this was conducted. We need a proper and dedicated facility for this kind of storage and experimentation. Housing it all under the Praesidium is putting everything in one basket. If something goes wrong, everything is crippled.”

“That is something to be discussed later,” Shen agreed. “But at the very least, we have options until the Restraints are complete, crude as they may be.”

“Well, he is contained for now,” the Commander said, rubbing his forehead. “We’ll meet later to figure out the finer details of this situation. But we’ve all done exceptionally today, even if it had a strange ending. You’re all dismissed if you want. I’ll probably be here all night.”

“I think we’ve all got things to do,” Jackson yawned. “I’m guessing I’m going to be getting a few calls from Saudia asking what the fuck we’re doing. Can’t wait to deal with that. Probably stuff about Aegis too, ugh.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Zhang said gruffly, looking around. “Or so I’ve heard.”

They all tiredly chuckled. “We’ll all get some sleep eventually,” the Commander said, returning his gaze towards the surgery. “But unfortunately not quite yet.”

***

_Westminster, London – England_

_11/29/2016 – 2:01 P.M._

There were quite a few immediate ramifications after XCOM had, for some reason, taken Caelior captive. Saudia had personally been surprised to hear that, and immediately suspicious as to what they were planning. She didn’t believe that Aegis had some kind of telepathic influence over the Commander, but he definitely had enough leverage to make suggestions to him.

Ultimately, it was one in a very long list of things that needed to be addressed, along with China and their battlefield intelligence, and speaking to Aegis himself. The revelation of an Ethereal working with XCOM had sent shockwaves throughout the world, even more so than…well, anything she could probably do.

Japan was still being cleared out by China and ADVENT’s own special forces, but there was practically nothing left to really challenge them anymore. The revelation of Aegis, and the capture of another Ethereal had seemed to shatter the will to fight for the aliens. Indeed, she had multiple reports of aliens all across the world surrendering _because_ of Aegis.

A surprise for sure. But one she wasn’t going to complain about.

On top of _that_ it appeared that President Qin’s aggressive speech towards the neutral nations was already bearing results. One of them was that Prime Minister Killian Bennett of the United Kingdom had invited her to speak with him immediately. Given how close this was to that event, Saudia was suspecting that the topic of conversation would be rather…focused, and also implied that this had been in the works for some time, and only now were they going through with it.

What would be interesting was if Bennett was wanting to form an alliance like China, or to join ADVENT completely. Given that the UK was one of the last primary powers of the EU, and forming an alliance independent of the EU was not likely, she believed the latter was more likely.

Which would hopefully kill the EU for good.

Westminster was unsurprisingly packed with media and a few protesters which Saudia barely paid attention to. The media shouted a series of questions that, for once, weren’t all accusations or innately hostile. But about Aegis, the state of the war, Caelior, and XCOM. Reasonable for once, but there were scheduled press conferences, and they would be able to ask those later.

Provided they weren’t already answered when Laura or herself gave another update. She really wanted a break from the conferences, but it was her job to keep people informed. Hopefully now there would be something of a lull. Plenty of time to regroup, expand, and improve. If there was ever a time to put some of the later-stage plans into action, it was now.

Their guide led them through the Palace, and it was suitably impressive. Saudia had never actually been inside it, although she’d seen pictures. They weren’t going to meet the Queen, but Saudia really didn’t care about that to begin with. Under ADVENT such positions would be abolished regardless, so she didn’t feel the need to devote any more energy to it than was necessary.

Still, she could definitely appreciate the aesthetic and luxurious surroundings. It reminded her of the Bastion in ways. A shame they’d had to leave it, but the fears that the aliens would attack it seemed somewhat unfounded, as the skeleton crew guarding it hadn’t reported anything unusual. Maybe there could be a better use for it.

Their guide opened another door, and allowed Saudia to step inside another ornate dining room, of which the only occupant was the Prime Minister himself. Killian Bennett, one of the most contentious politicians ever to grace the country. A former SAS operative who had retired surprisingly early to enter the political sphere, he had quickly established himself as a blunt and unapologetic man who had led to some controversial actions.

He was, for one, a sharp critic of the United Nations (before their destruction), Russia, and China, and a proclaimed Euroskeptic, though he had never done anything beyond trying to limit the relationship the UK had with the EU. Simply leaving, as he had said, would cause more problems than it was worth.

His other actions were that he had something of a hatred towards all religion, and he had been one of the first to lead the banning of Islam as an allowed religion, and had also drafted legislation limiting churches of all religions and establishing registries for all those practicing. Most people would wonder how such a contentious man, who was disliked by England’s main political parties, even if he ran as a Tory, could be appointed to such a position.

Ironically, Saudia knew quite a bit about the _how_ because it had been EXALT who had initially propelled him to power. She had approved that particular op largely due to his anti-religion and anti-EU tendencies, and being a former special forces member, he had the correct mindset to make harder decisions in the future.

Putting him in charge had been simple. There was no shortage of blackmail in Parliament, and with a few exchanges of information, and helping Bennett forge some valuable connections, he was soon Prime Minister. He was actually rather good friends with Elizabeth, and the two had communicated regularly, he of course being unaware of her true loyalty.

Unfortunately some of his ideology was going to heavily conflict with ADVENT. But he might be able to overlook that in the name of security against the aliens. The man retained a good portion of his strength, and was likely physically stronger than her, even hidden by his business suit. His cunning eyes followed her as she entered, light reflecting off his bald scalp.

“Chancellor Saudia Vyandar of ADVENT,” the guide introduced. “Chancellor, Prime Minister Killian Bennett.”

“A pleasure,” Saudia answered, nodding her head.

“Appreciated,” Bennett answered, flicking a hand. “Leave us.”

Once the door closed, he gestured towards a chair at the end of the ornate table. “Please sit, Chancellor, we have much to discuss.”

“Certainly,” Saudia sat down on the red-padded chair. “I admit, I was not expecting this so…quickly.”

“I had been considering this for some time,” he answered with a grimace, sitting to the side of her. “But there is something about being called out by the _Chinese_ that is intolerable. Much as I dislike them, they are correct for once. I have personally grown tired of sitting and waiting, while the politicians bicker and fight over the ‘ethics’ and ‘morals’ of ADVENT. It is irritating.”

“I can imagine,” Saudia rested a hand on the table. “So let us not waste more time. What is it you wish from us?”

“I want the UK to join ADVENT,” he stated bluntly. “Unlike China, I am under no illusions as to the direction this world is going. I have no intention of being a world power, and ADVENT will be. There is no need to take a symbolic _alliance_ when joining would be better for both of us.” His brow furrowed. “While I don’t agree with _everything_ ADVENT supports, it is far better than the vast majority of authoritarian pretenders who believe power for the sake of it is good governance.”

Saudia smiled humorlessly. “If that was really their goal, they never cared about governance in the first place.”

He smiled and nodded. “Touché, Chancellor. I am not concerned with the media storm that will occur over this. I have been called every name in the book. No, the issue will be the politicians. As much as I wish it, I cannot simply force the UK to join ADVENT.”

Saudia crossed her legs. “And what do you have to subvert that? I can provide my support, and I believe the majority of the public support action.”

“Yes, they do,” he said knowingly, lacing his fingers together. “Parliament is composed of elitist snobs, partisan hacks, and the occasionally unscrupulous politician. I’m sure you’re aware I’m friends with your Intelligence Director. We go way back.”

Saudia kept a straight face. “She’s mentioned it.”

“I could force a vote, and likely get some use out of them one last time,” he continued. “But the thing is, I feel like such an action would be illegal under ADVENT, and knowing Stein…well, I doubt she’d really care and send me to prison anyway.”

Technically, Saudia wouldn’t have had a problem with it. Treduant had done something similar to force Congress to cooperate, and then had the offending politicians promptly arrested once ADVENT had been established. When working in a corrupt system, some rules had to be bent. If it was for the greater good, Saudia could justify it. But she was interested in what else he had to counter this.

“So what is the alternative?” She asked.

“I can call for a referendum,” he answered. “A public vote with a simple question: Should the UK join ADVENT? I have the authority to do that, and Parliament would…well, they wouldn’t necessarily be _forced_ to follow it, but refusing would be political suicide.”

“You’ll face opposition,” Saudia noted. “The EU will not like it, and neither will the media.”

He smirked. “Do I _look_ like the kind of person who cares what they think? They don’t matter, and both of us know it. But what I want to do before I announce this is I want everything in place. I want the transition to be as smooth as possible. I want ADVENT Peacekeepers ready to round up the criminals in my government and take them far away. I want our military fully upgraded within two weeks. I want every aspect of the UK to be ready to transition. And I want to present this publically so the people know the plan and can have confidence in it.”

He smirked. “Only an idiot would call for something like this and _not_ have a concrete plan of action.”

“That can certainly be done,” Saudia nodded. “I believe French and German representatives could also be useful, as they have also gone through this process. They can paint a more accurate picture of life in ADVENT than the other media can.”

“Certainly,” Bennett agreed. “And I would ask for some…tech demos as well. For our police and military. See what they can get out of this.”

“This is all well and good,” Saudia cautioned. “However, what if it fails?”

“Then it fails and I’m surrounded by shortsighted idiots,” he sighed. “But I don’t think it will. The people are fed up with the stalemate. The EU won’t do anything. Parliament won’t do anything. I can only do so much. I am confident that the UK will join ADVENT once the referendum is in place.”

“From the numbers I’ve seen, your country is not in an uncommon position,” Saudia nodded. “Now, you do need to be aware that your country _will_ have to conform to ADVENT law. That means no more royalty, no more banned religions, and you’re going to be watched a lot more closely. You are aware of this, right?”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” he sniffed dismissively. “Not anymore. And as for religion…well, maybe that can be negotiated. There is no reason for Islam to exist, let alone be supported by the government.”

“I agree,” Saudia nodded. “However, based on history, every time someone has tried to kill a religion, it keeps coming back. Islam will fully die one day, as will all religions, but it will be a natural death. If the practice is peaceful, then the people are allowed that freedom. And all of them will be on registries of course. Religious violence is dealt with quickly and swiftly.”

“At least you have some ways of curtailing it,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Very well. It’s not worth causing a fight over. As for the Queen, she doesn’t have any power anyway, not really.”

“I should clarify,” Saudia shifted in her seat. “The monarchy will no longer be supported at all by ADVENT. The royal family after joining will simply be a rich family with an interesting past. If they wish to preserve that heritage, that is their right, but their importance will fade over time. The government will not pay for them any longer.”

“Come now, Chancellor,” he chided. “While I personally think the Royal Family thinks a bit too much of themselves, they are part of our culture. It’s something worth keeping around, even symbolically.”

“And they can keep that symbolism,” Saudia nodded. “But they will not be supported or recognized by ADVENT. We are past the times of kings and queens; of the monarchy. It will remain as part of history, but as with the Japanese Emperor, such positions will no longer be treated with any form of recognition. Besides, I’m certain the Royal Family is rich enough to keep themselves going without government assistance.”

Bennett pursed his lips. “I do not exactly support that, Chancellor. Nor will many people, I suspect. But I suppose there are costs to world unification. This issue is not one worth risking the world for. I do appreciate you reminding me of these things,” he smirked. “I admit, I have not been this enthused about working for some time. It is good to work with someone competent.”

“That is one of the core values of ADVENT,” Saudia agreed. “I’m glad we see eye to eye on this. Now, if you’re willing, we can begin working on how your country will be integrated into ADVENT.”

***

_Alien Containment, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_11/28/2016 – 5:22 A.M._

Keeping Caelior down was something that didn’t take too much effort once she got the hang of it. It was enough that she no longer had to have a constant hold on his mind, but could set it to stay unconscious for a certain amount of time. It was only roughly a half hour or something like that, but it did allow her a mental reprieve.

Patricia really wanted to get out of her suit, but knew she had to stay ready until he was dealt with one way or another. He still should have been killed, but if the Commander was set on keeping him alive, he wasn’t going to be a problem on her watch.

“He’s been speaking to you, hasn’t he.”

Patricia looked up at Aegis, who was still watching Vahlen and her team finish up the surgery. “Sorry?” She didn’t know if she’d misheard or not, since her concentration and lucidity had been slipping as the hours passed. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for her to hear Aegis say something he hadn’t.

“The Imperator,” Aegis repeated. “He’s been speaking to you.”

The way it was phrased did not make it sound like a question.

Patricia pursed her lips. This was certainly awkward, because she _knew_ that Aegis was going to jump to conclusions that weren’t true. “Yes. Though he’s just as vague as ever.”

“You should not be speaking to him.” Aegis stated. “It is dangerous.”

Patricia rubbed her forehead. “See, I would be more inclined to believe you if he’d…well, actually _done_ something to me. But he hasn’t. He’s been more of a help than an actual enemy.”

“I suspected as much,” Aegis said, his voice weary. “One does not simply learn how to manipulate the lower brain in a matter of days. He gave you the knowledge himself.”

“The basics,” Patricia shrugged. “As far as I know, there isn’t some hidden command that turns me into his servant.”

“He is playing you, Patricia,” Aegis said, finally turning to her. “As much as you don’t think he is manipulating you, the Imperator is one who does _not_ do something without a reason.”

“Fine,” Patricia stood, crossing her arms. “So tell me, what _is_ that reason? I can’t figure it out, but I can’t say it’s actually bad. He’s also not tried to convince me to betray XCOM, if you’re curious.”

“He is normalizing himself,” Aegis insisted. “You are becoming comfortable around him. More open to his suggestions. That is all he _wants_. He is deliberately _not_ acting like the being you are expecting. He _knows_ what to say to you, what to do to direct you down a certain path.” His voice became darker. “And your failure to see that is a problem.”

“You still haven’t answered by question,” Patricia reminded him. “ _Why_ would he bother to do this? He knows I won’t betray my species. And if that were the case, why isn’t he doing it to the Commander, or Geist, or _any_ other psion?”

“Because the two you mentioned know better than to speak to him alone!” Came the heated answer, one which was causing some heads nearby to turn. “ _That_ is how the Imperator works. Beings do what he wants, and believe they alone came to that conclusion when in reality they were always following the path the Imperator created for them.”

Aegis paused. “He is a gifted speaker and his charisma is unmatched. Yet he is extremely dangerous. You have changed and you do not even realize it. You have become more comfortable with your abilities, more distant from the ones you cared about; you were willing to kill a defenseless Ethereal to _practice_. You were not always like this.”

Patricia glared at him. “No, Aegis, no I was not. I’m not the same person I was months ago, and the woman I was back then is not recognizable compared to the one at the beginning of this war. People change, which I guess isn’t common for Ethereals, but on Earth that happens. And that ‘defenseless’ Ethereal you want preserved was capable of destroying entire fleets.”

“He was no threat,” Aegis repeated. “Thanks to you, ironically.”

“He was our enemy,” Patricia stated, eyes flashing. “As are all the aliens that attack us. If I am going to use my powers, I am going to cause the most damage with them. And that extends beyond telepathy.” She tapped her head. “Perhaps you’re right. The Imperator did encourage me to not feel as guilty about what I was doing. That does not mean he was wrong.”

“You admit he has directly changed your own values,” Aegis said incredulously. “How can you not see an issue with that?”

“Because he pointed me in the direction, I ultimately made the choice,” Patricia answered. “And why should I have an issue with it any more than if you were responsible? The Commander himself has made me reevaluate what I believe. Yet I don’t see you having a problem with that.”

“But this is-“

“The Imperator, I know,” Patricia interrupted. “And no, that isn’t a problem. Not really. If he was going to do something to me, he would have done it by now.”

“He already has,” Aegis said. “And he is succeeding.”

“Succeeding at _what_?” She demanded angrily, her sleep-deprived mind wanting this to be over. “Tell me _what_!” The last word was a shout, one which had been psionically amplified. She shook her head, trying to stop the instinctive psionic usage. “I’m not naïve, Aegis,” she muttered, just tired. “He probably has a plan. Maybe. I don’t know anymore. But I’m aware of the possibility. But unless you can tell me _why_ I should avoid him, then I don’t see a reason to do so just because you don’t like him.”

There was a pause between them. “Besides,” Patricia said wearily. “If there were an actual problem, the Commander would have probably brought it up with me.”

“The Commander has too much trust in you,” Aegis said, turning to look back through the glass. “He isn’t blind, but he trusts you to handle it. I will advise him to talk to you, but he cannot grasp the Imperator. You cannot either without witnessing him in person.” He looked down. “I cannot give you answers, Patricia, only warnings. Ones I suggest you heed unless you want to become the enemy you are fighting against. Perhaps that is his goal for you.”

“Your input is noted, Aegis,” Patricia said after a few minutes. “But I can make my own decisions. I can think for myself.”

Aegis didn’t sound surprised, but she could sense his disappointment. “I sincerely hope that is true, Psion. For all our sakes.”

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_11/28/2016 – 5:55 P.M._

There was definitely a party going on somewhere. In fact, there were quite a few taking place across the base. This was one of the cases where Duri felt that some celebration was in order, but really, after seeing one single Ethereal single-handedly end the battle he felt a more appropriate reaction would be a strong drink.

If he drank, that is.

He wasn’t exactly the partying type; that was for kids and extroverts, of which he was neither. Not to mention that Officers actually had things to do and look over in the unlikely event something came up. Then there was the whole situation with China, which had been the second-most surprising thing to happen that day.

Strange days indeed.

Even more strange was that they had actual alien captives now.

“They’re big,” Beatriz noted as they looked over the aliens sitting alone in an improvised jail cell. She’d volunteered to come with him when he said he was going to look over the prisoners, and since everyone else was out celebrating, he’d said he’d like the company. “Bigger than in the scope, anyway.”

They definitely were. All of these aliens were Vitakarians, four to be precise. They really were big, the smallest was over two meters, and the bigger ones getting uncomfortably close to two and a half meters. Even sitting down they were close to eye level. It was strange, and made him very aware that he really hadn’t seen them this close when alive before.

“It’s definitely brighter when they’re alive,” Beatriz noted, after looking them over for a few seconds.

“What is?” Duri asked, glanced towards her. Both of them were in their armor, though she’d forgone the helmet as it wasn’t a combat situation. He noticed she had a tendency to bite her lower lip when she was thinking about something.

“Their eyes,” she nodded towards them. “They’re brighter when they’re alive. I’ve only seen them up close when dead. They still glow, but it’s definitely not as strong.”

“Huh, neat.” Fun fact of the day brought to him by Beatriz.

“Checking up on our xeno friends?” A voice interjected, and Duri turned to see the Officer he assumed was overseeing this area. “Officer Roe, Alien Containment Officer.”

Duri saluted him, more as a gesture of courtesy. “Officer Duri, Carolus Squad. I didn’t know we had that designation.”

Roe chuckled, his voice rumbling. “A fairly recent addition. Promotion for me. I had some history as a lawyer, and worked as an interrogator for a time; thus, I was pegged as a candidate for this position if it was needed. Aliens surrender, and boom, ‘promotion’. Still,” he glanced to the aliens. “They haven’t given me much trouble, and there aren’t many in this area.”

“When you say ‘not many’…?”

“Approximately two hundred and four for Busan,” Roe clarified. “Not all kept in the same place, and there’s more down the coast. I think there are some in America who actually surrendered. Crazy what’s happening. That Ethereal showing up changed everything.”

“So what do you know about these ones?” Beatriz asked, motioning to the aliens in the cell.

“Runianarch soldiers,” Roe answered. “I have it segregated by race and species. We even have a few Andromedons we’re looking after. But this group is all Vitakarians. A couple rooms down are a few Borelians, and you get the picture. This group is three females and one male, not really much to say, honestly.”

“A high number of females,” Duri noted with a raised eyebrow. “That normal or just coincidence?”

Officer Roe pulled out his tablet and began tapping on it. “That sort of varies depending on race. For Vitakarians, its pretty split, with it tipped towards a male majority. Dath’Haram, all four of them, are evenly split. I have yet to see a single male Borelian or Cobrarian.” Duri could imagine the amused smirk under his helmet. “Never let it be said that the aliens are misogynist.”

“Huh,” Beatriz said, sounding fairly interested. “That’s interesting. I wonder if it’s a cultural thing.”

“You know, we can hear you,” one of the female Vitakarians said from the cell. “And honestly, the fact that most of you Humans were actively discouraging half your population from participating in military operations until recently is utterly baffling.”

“Well, well, you _can_ understand me,” Roe was definitely smiling underneath. “And here I thought you couldn’t understand me, with your whole silent routine.” He glanced up at Duri, switching to Korean. “[English seems to be the only Human language they know. I normally speak that around them. Sometimes takes them a while to respond.]”

Duri furrowed his eyebrows. “[How many of them speak English?]”

Roe turned towards the aliens. “[Likely a lot more than they let on. I’ll know more once I get a Priest in here to help. I’ve got one coming soon.]”

The female Vitakarian narrowed her eyes to blue slits. “What are you saying?”

“Don’t ask me,” Beatriz shrugged. “I don’t speak Korean.”

“That I’m going to be getting a telepath soon so I can determine exactly who cannot speak and who is faking it,” Roe said, taking off his helmet and smiling. “It’d save us both a lot of time if you would have said something at the beginning.”

“Maybe.” She stood to her full height, easily towering over them. “But I did not know what to expect. How you treat aliens is unknown to us.”

“Well good, you trust us enough to speak,” Roe said, walking over to her. Duri joined them in taking off his helmet as well. “Now, are there any more of you who can understand us?”

“Velonion knows bits and pieces,” she said, motioning to the male Vitakarian. “I’ve been trying to teach him when I can. The others don’t know any, unless they’ve not mentioned it.” She broke off and spoke something in their language. The other Vitakarian females responded in the same way. It actually didn’t sound…alien. Just like another language, like French or German. Incomprehensible to him, but not something he would raise his eye at.

“No, they only know a few words,” the Vitakarian confirmed. “Essentials. ‘Yes’ ‘No’ and the like.” A pause. “‘Die’ and ‘Kill’ as well.”

“Good, good,” Roe made notes on his tablet. “Now, I don’t believe I know your name. Want to share?”

“What’s going to happen to us?” She said instead. “We want to see the Ethereal.”

Roe pursed his lips, looking thoughtfully at them. “See, this is the situation. Believe it or not, ADVENT wasn’t aware there _was_ an Ethereal working with XCOM until you were. And while I’m sure the Ethereal would be happy to meet you, he is currently with XCOM and presumably handling important work there.”

Duri was half-surprised that he felt _bad_ for the alien when her face visibly deflated at Roe’s words. “Right now, you are a prisoner of war,” the Officer continued. “You surrendered, so already you’re in good standing with us. Right now things are somewhat confined, but once we have appropriate facilities, you will be moved there. Until then, you’ll be fed, clothed, and treated well, provided you don’t cause trouble for us.”

The Vitakarian considered that for a moment. “And if we… _do_ cause trouble? And what does that actually mean?”

Roe’s smile didn’t waver. “It’s fairly simple. Follow orders of ADVENT personnel, don’t attack us, and _very_ important – don’t _lie_. We’ll know if you do. You don’t have to have important intel to survive, but…let’s say that sudden lapses in memory will reflect poorly.” He tapped once on the tablet. “And if you cause too much trouble? You’ll be executed or sent to our scientists to experiment on. They’re always needing live specimens.”

She blinked rapidly several times. Maybe the way they conveyed fear? “I understand,” she finally said after a brief pause. “I will make sure they do as well.”

“Excellent!” Roe set the tablet to the side. “Now, we do know that the Ethereal was the primary reason you decided to surrender. We are looking into perhaps transferring you to XCOM custody…provided certain criteria are met.”

“And what are those?” Was the immediate demand.

“I’m afraid I can’t say,” Roe said apologetically. “We can’t have people attempting to cheat, so to speak. I’m sure you can understand that we can’t send _everyone_ to XCOM. But follow the rules, answer our questions honestly, and your chances will improve.”

“And what happens in the meantime?” She asked. “Do we just stay in a building and do nothing?”

“Of course not,” Roe dismissed. “Nor do we necessarily need you for manual labor, we have criminals for that now. No, you can…treat this as an opportunity to learn. Despite what your Collective propaganda likely tells you, we are not something to be feared…well, unless you are our enemy.”

The Vitakarian seemed to attempt to smile. “They did not even give us that. We knew nothing about your species except how to kill you. Any additional research was done of our own volition.”

“Interesting,” Roe made a note. “Aside from occupying yourselves, we have many human academic professionals who would certainly be interested in your species. Humans, as you should understand, don’t necessarily have a positive view of aliens. You will have some opportunities to dispute that, unless you wish to be difficult.”

“And I suppose you don’t hate us?” She glanced to Duri and Beatriz. “Or you two either?”

Roe’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes grew harder, as did his tone. “Let us say that I don’t hate most aliens. I reserve that for a very specific few, namely the ones behind this invasion. You are just soldiers. You follow your orders. You have no say in how the war is run. I don’t hate you for doing your job.”

“Nor do I,” Duri added. “But honestly, I wish you had never come here.”

“I don’t hate you personally,” Beatriz said slowly, crossing her arms. “But I don’t like you. Your kind have killed us for no reason. You won’t, and should not be welcome on our planet, regardless of if you were following your orders or not.”

The Vitakarian just nodded at Beatriz. “I understand that.”

“And there you have it,” Roe said, lowering his tablet. “Now, I don’t believe I got your name?”

“Runi’cairu’intha.”

“You go by your middle names, correct?” Roe asked, looking up. “Cairu?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent,” he made some final notes. “You won’t have to stay in that cell too much longer. You’ll all be moved shortly. We’ll have more questions later, but your cooperation has been noticed, and ADVENT thanks you for it.”

“How very nice of them.” Duri almost blinked at that. Was she really being _sarcastic?_

Roe just laughed, and Duri was almost hoping nothing _too_ bad happened to her. He doubted it was going to be as fair as Roe was promising, but if they cooperated, he didn’t see a reason to mistreat them. That was what the aliens would do to them.

ADVENT was better than that.

At least he hoped it was.

***

_Alien Containment Chamber, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_11/28/2016 – 11:59 A.M._

“I am concerned about Patricia,” Aegis said. “She still does not fully understand the danger communicating with the Imperator poses.”

While waiting for Caelior to become conscious, Aegis had decided to inform the Commander over an apparent recent conversation. Truth be told the Commander had suspected something like that was going on given how deflective Patricia had been in response to some of his questions. However, from what it sounded like the Imperator was deliberately _avoiding_ giving a sensible motivation for his actions.

The Commander did agree with Aegis that it was not safe, but at the same time, he trusted that Patricia would be able to handle it. “She’ll be fine. If the Imperator wants to communicate with her, that isn’t something we can really stop.”

“Unfortunately not,” Aegis exhaled, with some resignation. “But you should discourage her from such interactions. She will listen to you more than me, and even you must be becoming concerned about her state of mind. She has become more violent.”

Indeed he had, and _that_ was something he could justifiably come down on her for. To an extent he could tolerate some experimentation, but drawing it out for the sake of it wasn’t professional nor efficient. At the very least, she needed to become better at letting him know exactly what these _training sessions_ would entail. He didn’t care much about how aliens felt, but more about his own people trying to emulate Ethereals like Isomnum.

The Imperator may be pushing her this direction, but the Commander wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d begun doing it anyway. She was like that, once an idea got into her head she would try every logical way to make it work. The source of the idea could have been anyone, and in this case it so happened to be the Imperator. Considering the things Geist had done, it could have easily come from him.

Mhmm, Geist. He was going to need to deal with him for his actions. Patricia at least had some rules about how she respected the minds of her soldiers. She still had her own ethics, even if Aegis didn’t seem to think so right now. Geist, on the other hand, did not.

Still, that was not the main issue with Aegis’s suggestion. “You still don’t really get how Humans work,” he sighed. “Telling someone ‘don’t do this’ and not giving them a sufficient explanation doesn’t work with most people. They just do it without telling you, and it’s not like Patricia is actively seeking him out.”

“And how long until she does?” Aegis inquired.

“That would depend on her reasons,” he answered evenly. “The Imperator has been rather free with his information. That would be an acceptable reason. If it’s more malicious than that, then we’ll have problems. But that doesn’t address my point. How, exactly, would I make sure they didn’t communicate?”

“At this point in time there is nothing,” Aegis admitted. “However, the Manchurian Restraints-“

“Will not be used that way,” the Commander interrupted. “Nor is that necessary. My soldiers are not children, Aegis. They can think for themselves, and I’ll respect that. I trust Patricia until she gives me a reason not to. She’s been here since the beginning. She’s not going to go running off just because the Imperator was nice to her.”

“I still do not believe that is his goal,” Aegis said, as Vahlen signaled that Caelior was waking up. “He is trying to change her; not convert her. That is arguably just as dangerous.”

“We’ll continue this later,” the Commander said as they both stepped into the Containment Chamber where Caelior was strapped to the operating table, with all his arms tied behind his back. The table had be oriented vertically so he could face them upright when he awoke. Without his helmet or armor, he didn’t look nearly as intimidating.

Ethereals really did look different under their armor and robes. They didn’t really have necks, but just one elongated head. The mouth was definitely not in the original species, as it seemed a noticeably thin and alien addition; lipless and small, as well as placed fairly far down the ‘face’.

Honestly, all these restraints were probably unnecessary since Vahlen had said the procedure was successful and Caelior was completely paralyzed from the neck down. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too violent upon waking up. “He should be fully conscious shortly,” Vahlen said, walking up to them, back in her standard science uniform. “Everyone ready?”

“Yes,” the Commander confirmed. “Patricia, Geist, and Sussan are monitoring him. They will inform me if anything is wrong.” He tapped his earpiece, opening up a channel. “Everyone set?”

 _“Yes, Commander,”_ Patricia confirmed.

Caelior suddenly moved his head, his voice making a groaning sound. The glowing orange eyes of the Ethereal opened, blinking even in the dimmed light. “XCOM…” he noted groggily, likely seeing him and Vahlen, he moved his head. “Aegis.”

“Caelior,” Aegis inclined his helmet. “Do not be alarmed. They do not intend to hurt you.”

Technically correct, but they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. “I can’t move,” he said, voice growing louder, realizing the paralysis. “I can’t _feel_ anything! What did you _do_ to me?!”

“A precautionary measure,” Vahlen explained calmly trying to keep him from panicking, as she stepped forward. “You have been medicinally paralyzed from the neck down. Considering your abilities and previously hostile intentions towards us, we couldn’t take the risk. This _is_ reversible, and if you cooperate, we _could_ allow you to move again.”

The golden eyes narrowed, and the Commander raised a hand. “I would caution against attempting to use any of your…abilities.” He motioned to Vahlen. “This was not the only precaution. You have been fitted with neural bombs. These aren’t powerful, but are more than sufficient to kill you. They can be detonated manually, or they will go off if it detects you have reached a certain threshold of psionic usage.” He gave a grim smile. “I would not push this boundary.”

Technically, it wasn’t actually connected to a sensor. While Vahlen had conceptualized the idea, there hadn’t been time to fully fit him with it. However, his brain was hooked up to computers which monitored his psionic usage, and sending the data both to Vahlen and Geist. If it reached a certain threshold, they would manually detonate the explosive.

But Caelior didn’t need to know that.

“Why didn’t you just kill me?” Caelior said wearily, looking to Aegis. “To gloat? To torture me like this? Trapped in my own body?”

“Because you do not deserve to die, Caelior,” Aegis said.

“I came to _kill_ you,” Caelior spat. “I have disgraced the Imperator, I failed him. I suppose that is why he didn’t intervene. Death is better than living as your captive.”

“No,” Aegis shook his head. “You were sent down to die. No one believed you would win; not the Battlemaster, not the Imperator. You were sacrificed. You _were_ supposed to die, Caelior, but I have convinced the Commander to change your determined fate.”

“Impossible,” Caelior disputed. “I would not be sacrificed like some pawn. I am one of the greatest weapons against the threat we face. I would not simply be… _discarded_.” Despite his words, he did seem to be slightly unsure.

“Were you aware that the Imperator has been communicating with Patricia?” The Commander said. “Helping her? Encouraging her? _He_ was the one who informed her, and through her, us, that you were coming.”

If Caelior could have stiffened, he would have. “No. He would not do that. Why _would_ he do that? He is no traitor to us.”

“Because the Imperator does not care about you, or any of us,” Aegis explained. “Everything is a tool or pawn to him; something to use and discard when needed. Every action is used to enact his nebulous agenda. The Imperator has abandoned our original goal for years, Caelior, it was ultimately why I left. He is too focused on the inner galaxy and Sovereign Ones. The Synthesized are not his primary concern.”

“That can’t be,” Caelior said slowly. “If that were the case I would have heard about it. _Someone_ would know. Why didn’t _you_ say anything if this was true?”

“Even you must have noticed how things were changing,” Aegis took a step towards the young Ethereal. “The Imperator slowly and quietly cut off my access to information. I was no longer informed of Collective developments. There was only one way to fully defy him, and that was leaving. There were other reasons.”

“Like what?”

Aegis hesitated, then continued. “He never told you the truth about how you were used. None of us did. Lies among the few of us that were left became less and less acceptable to me, but it was important for the Imperator that the lies be maintained.”

“ _What_ are you talking about?” Caelior demanded.

“You are no legend, Caelior,” Aegis said sadly. “You have been and were a propaganda tool of the Empire. Your legend was one of an artificial making, conceptualized by the Division of the Battlemasters, Shadows, and Overminds. The Ethereals needed hope, and the story of an Ethereal prodigy single-handedly challenging the Synthesized was the answer.”

He paused. “But it was just that: A story. Your victories were not of your own making. You believe you single-handedly changed the tide of battles, when you had been conditioned to ignore the influence of Overminds who assisted you from afar. You were sent into battle against Synthesized already weakened and scattered. Your true victories existed, but were far outnumbered by those engineered to grow the legend of Caelior.”

“No…” Caelior shook his head, voice in denial. “I’ve _used_ my power. I remember the battles! I made the decisions! It can’t…it can’t have been fake.”

“You thought you did,” Aegis said. “But you are no telepath, Caelior. Your mind was not trained to resist the influence of the Shadows. Your power, Caelior, is real. Very real. But your accomplishments are not. They never were.”

Caelior was silent for a few minutes, head looking towards the ground. The Commander _almost_ felt sorry for him. He didn’t really know what the appropriate reaction was when you were told that your life was an engineered lie, but this seemed to be fitting. If Ethereals could cry, the Commander would not have been surprised to see him shed some tears.

 _It is difficult for him to show it_. Vahlen telepathically communicated. _But he truly is shaken. He’s thinking now; about everything he’s gone through. He can sense Aegis is telling the truth, and that is scaring him._

“Then…why?” Caelior finally asked. “Why even bring me?”

“Because you _are_ powerful,” Aegis answered. “The Imperator wanted you as a weapon, a tool, nothing more. But you were consumed by your legend; you believed yourself special and superior to others and those who knew the truth simply played into it as a source of amusement. You were not considered highly, Caelior, because of your attitude and words. But while you bear some of the blame, it is the result of the lies of others. For that, I am sorry.”

“And I fell right into it,” he said bitterly. “Why did…no one ever tell me? Did they believe I could not handle it?”

“I do not know,” Aegis admitted. “But I doubt many of them cared enough about you to even think that was important. You were not a friendly personality; you drove people away with your arrogance and superiority. I suspect your actions led to the Battlemaster deciding you were a liability to him.”

“I…think so,” Caelior said slowly. “I did threaten him. Quisilia mocked me for it, but I didn’t consider him worth paying attention to. He promised that if I killed you, I could assume control of the military.” A pause. “I was a fool.”

Yes, he most definitely was. The Battlemaster had _definitely_ allowed him to die. Or would have, had they not changed the script. It seemed that for the first time in his life, Caelior was actually trying to think about something.

“What is going to happen to me?” Caelior didn’t sound angry, violent, or defiant, just defeated. “Do you intend to torture me? Experiment on me? Extract everything I know? I am aware of how XCOM operates.”

“That,” the Commander said. “Depends on your cooperation. You are too much of a risk to hold indefinitely, as it stands now. Even bombs won’t render you harmless. However, there _is_ something under development that could allow you to live more…freely. But until then, we will ask some questions, either from Aegis, myself, or Zhang. Vahlen will run some tests on you and take samples. Then you will be placed in a Stasis Chamber until the Manchurian Restraints are completed.”

“And even if these…Restraints are developed, then what?” Caelior asked. “You would not wake me up if there was no plan for me?”

The Commander and Aegis exchanged a look. “Commander, do you believe he would have a place with us….with appropriate precautions, of course?”

The Commander appraised the Ethereal. He’d seen Caelior’s power; Aegis wanted for him to join XCOM. He wasn’t sure that was a _good_ idea, but he was too powerful to really ignore as a weapon. Yet at the same time, he likely had as little tolerance for incompetence and childishness as the Battlemaster had.

Then again, that wouldn’t be a problem with the Manchurian Restraints.

“That depends,” he said slowly. “Aegis gave me a detailed dossier on you. You are an Ethereal supremacist, are overly emotional, and became enough of a liability that the Battlemaster deemed you better dead than alive. I have no place for someone like that. The question that should be asked is first, is that even something you would want, and second, if you are willing to change.”

“I…do not know,” Caelior admitted. “I do not know what I want. Everything I was is…not real. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can decide that when the time comes,” Aegis said. “In the meantime, you can stay here; think over what you learned, ask questions, grow. You can be what you thought you were, Caelior, but it must be your own decision.”

“First I need to know if you will cooperate with us,” the Commander said. “Everything else is contingent on that.”

“I have little choice,” Caelior answered. “But…yes. You will not have to force me. I do not like feeling trapped in my body, so I would ask you place me in stasis soon. This feeling of helplessness is…disconcerting.”

“It will not take more than a few days,” Vahlen promised. “And when you awaken, you will have feeling back. It may take some time for your body to readjust, but by then the Restraints will be applied and your mobility will be permitted.”

The Ethereal sighed. “Very well. Begin asking your questions.”

***

_Abuja – Nigeria_

_11/29/2016 – 2:12 P.M._

The recent developments had definitely changed things up, to put it mildly.

Betos felt like she was running on empty for the vast majority of the time, between trying to manage the military effectively and safely, trying to curtail the more outrageous demands of the SAS leadership, and on top of that work with Macula to try and establish the SAS as an alien-enhanced power without ADVENT noticing for a while.

Luckily, Macula had already come through on at least securing Abuja. He had brought in a very small number of his own alien forces, and placed enough sensors, scouts and some kind of holographic technology which would ensure that ADVENT was not going to be able to know what actually was going on in her little corner of Africa.

Her soldiers were somewhat apprehensive of even the limited number of aliens wandering around, but there wasn’t too much interaction with them, although some of the Borelians were helping train her soldiers to more effectively use their own advanced weaponry, namely the plasma rifles, railguns, and camo-tech.

It was all very impressive, and her soldiers were already as, or more, advanced than ADVENT on a technological level. The trick would be to apply this to the SAS as a whole, which was going to be a lot more difficult to do without attracting suspicion.

But right now, she didn’t care about that.

One Ethereal was now captured by XCOM, and one was working _with_ them.

He had failed to mention several things to her.

The building Macula was staying in was a renovated house, which looked normal enough on the outside until you realized it was a holographic front, with a full alien cube-like structure underneath. It was fairly small and open, with the first ‘floor’ only consisting of his holographic devices, haptics, and computers. The space above that room was presumably where he slept.

The moment she stepped through Kellani stepped forward, one hand already moving towards his Titan Hammer. The Oyariah, Mac’kellani’hegemon, was more intimidating to her than the Ethereal. He seemed to fulfill the role of a bodyguard, but he was definitely _not_ just some muscle. He towered over her, standing at least three meters high, but was surprisingly articulate which had been strange to hear from the stony alien.

“State your business, Lady Betos,” he said, having adopted her unofficial title given by Macula. Why he’d chosen that she didn’t know, as she would have preferred her military title of Marshal. But of all the things to complain about, that really wasn’t something she could make herself care too much about.

“Aegis,” she said. “Please move aside.”

“Yes, you may step aside,” Macula said walking over to her. “Lady Betos no doubt has some questions.”

Kellani stepped back, his hand falling to his side. “As you decree, Elder Macula.”

“Right,” Betos crossed her arms. “So were you ever going to mention this to me? I think it _might_ have been important.”

“Unlikely,” Macula answered. “The main reason is that Aegis was not relevant, nor was his unfortunate defection. His influence would have been limited, though now that he has appeared, that has clearly changed.”

Betos sniffed. “Clearly.”

“That, Lady Betos, is not our goal,” Macula continued, raising a finger. “Right now we need to improve the SAS and ensure that ADVENT does not become too aware of our presence. Aegis does not have an impact on that, and I also say that may serve as a distraction for our own operations. They will be too focused on him.”

Macula did have a point there. ADVENT had a lot to focus on. “There is also the issue of China, and their repurposing of the Dreadnought Fragment CODEX,” Kellani rumbled. “Tensions between China and XCOM may become a focal issue.”

“But what about Chinese attack on Japan?” Betos asked.

“While I agree with Elder Macula that it is outside our focus,” Kellani said. “She raises an important point. It is a country that we cannot really afford to lose.”

“It will be reclaimed eventually,” Macula said. “It was…surprising, but this is a simple setback. Our work here is more important.”

“But that Ethereal _was_ captured,” Betos pointed out. “That…can’t have been planned.”

“Yes, Caelior,” Macula paused, almost thoughtfully. “While his capture is unfortunate, nothing much of value was lost. I suspect the Battlemaster determined he was a liability and had the moron kill himself against Aegis. He was never much for thinking through his actions. His loss is not a detriment.”

Kellani didn’t say anything, which was somewhat telling. Normally he would repeat something Macula said, or agree with him. That he didn’t indicated that Kellani took the event a little harder than Macula, although it could be due to how the Oyariah apparently saw the Ethereals as gods, and having one captured was difficult to comprehend.

“Fine,” Betos sighed, rubbing her forehead. “But ADVENT is going to capitalize on this. An Ethereal is going to be used as incentive for them to recruit.”

“But they will target Europe first,” Kellani interjected.

“But they also won’t turn down African nations if they ask,” Betos responded. “We need to expand out further, and that’s not happening while the SAS tries different flavors of dictator.” She scowled. “I can’t keep them in check forever and they’ll only focus on Boko Haram and other terrorists for so long.”

“In that case,” Macula stepped forward with a flourish. “Perhaps it’s time I am formally introduced to the SAS leadership. I would quite enjoy such a diversion.” He motioned to her. “You are the only one that matters here. If the SAS is not conforming to your…well, desires, then that can be changed. Their armies cannot challenge me, nor can their minds.”

Betos felt that there was a double meaning with the latter statement. But she couldn’t disagree. The SAS would be alien-supported, so it made sense that the leadership knew of their benefactors. Macula for certain. “How soon should this be done?”

“When the world is focused on something else,” Macula said mildly. “Like an Ethereal speaking publicly. Once Aegis is properly introduced to the world…well, less focus will be on us. Even if ADVENT will never break their so-called watch, they have priorities. One of which would be watching a supposedly friendly Ethereal.”

“Alright.” Betos was already figuring out logistics. She didn’t trust this not to leak, and was going to have to take some precautions. But it could be done, and once everyone was on the same page, then maybe something could finally move forward. “Let’s prepare for that.”

***

_Beijing – China_

_11/30/2016 – 1:22 P.M._

The Commander had to admit that Beijing was much different when he wasn’t assaulting an EXALT facility. It was a massive and expansive city, one of the biggest in China, and while he could admire it, he was really only interested in getting in, having his meeting with the Chinese, and leaving. He was certain they were being watched, although that was likely the extent of it.

But their Intelligence was most certainly cataloging everything they were doing to analyze later.

This was going to be interesting.

In one of the skyscrapers, he, Patricia, and Zhang were directed towards the room President Qin had decided to meet them in to discuss the repurposed CODEX. They had agreed very quickly, so he assumed that they accurately understood the gravity of the situation. Which was good; there was a much better chance that something would be accomplished here.

He didn’t really want to make the Chinese an enemy again, but he wasn’t going to let this go.

The standard business office with windows allowing a smoggy view of the Beijing skyline behind them was fairly simple for such a meeting, but the Commander didn’t really mind. The less attention, the better. “Commander,” President Qin greeted. “Welcome. Again.”

He had to smile at that. “It’s much more impressive in the day, I have to admit.”

Qin didn’t react, but motioned him to sit down. “I know what you wish to discuss. All I have invited today is the lead for the Tiāngōng Intelligence, Peng Lei.” The other person, an older Chinese man stood and inclined his head.

“Commander, Director Zhang, and Patricia Trask,” he greeted. “A pleasure.”

All of them sat down as the Commander decided to get straight to the point. “The capabilities of your program are impressive, to say the least. How exactly was it developed?”

“It would be wise to be truthful as well,” Patricia added with a smile. “Just a suggestion.”

Lei adjusted his glasses, and at a nod from Qin, answered. “In going through the wreckage of the Dreadnought, there was much of it that was damaged or corroded beyond repair. However, we did manage to extract some vital components. One of them was what I can only assume was an information monitoring system. Not quite an AI, but with very similar theoretical capabilities.”

“The aliens call them CODEX systems,” the Commander nodded. “Very advanced, very versatile.”

“Indeed,” Lei agreed. “The system apparently recognized us as the new owners, and began assisting us in figuring out certain questions regarding their technology. It lacked much information on the aliens themselves, but it helped us understand their code and methodology. From what it provided, we were able to eventually modify it to the Tiāngōng Project.”

“All very fascinating,” the Commander deadpanned, looking to Qin. “And correct me if I am wrong, but China _was_ part of the Council at this time, correct?”

A pause. “Correct,” Qin said.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” the Commander said with only slight mockery. “Now, don’t you think that this rather advanced technology _might_ have been somewhat useful to XCOM? Indeed, wasn’t it stated fairly often that all major alien developments fell to _us_?”

“Commander, if you also recall, you delayed us acquiring the wreckage for months because of your vendetta,” Qin answered. “You never showed a respect for our country. You wanted everything to yourself.”

“And we were completely justified, knowing what we know now,” Zhang stated harshly. “We were concerned you would hold something back if you found it. We were clearly correct.”

Qin’s face wrinkled in disgust. “You are lucky you are allowed to wander here, Triad. You are still a criminal here.”

The Commander rapped his mechanical fingers on the desk. “Zhang has done more for humanity than you have so far, Mr. President. I would advise you keep comments threatening my advisors to a minimum. Especially when he is correct.”

“And let us also not forget that you have also been against us from the start,” Qin continued. “You have deliberately tried to curtail the influence of China. As an America, I can understand you were threatened, but do not believe this is something that excuses you.”

“Yes, I am very loyal to a country that betrayed me and imprisoned me for years,” the Commander answered sarcastically. “However, if I recall, China refused to support me back when the Council was still around. Australia, China, every country that stood as a roadblock to protecting our species. Why _wouldn’t_ I have tried to reduce your influence? You only cared about the aliens when it directly threatened you.” He paused. “You did show some spine pulling out. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Do not forget I know who you are,” Qin reminded him. “Even in ADVENT, your name is not welcome.”

“Really.” The Commander smiled. “Patricia?”

“He is bluffing,” she said. “He has no intention of revealing your identity. He knows you would ensure China joins ADVENT. And he would probably end up dead.”

“Tell your psion to stop reading my mind!” He hissed, color draining from his face. Lei looked concerned as well, shooting Patricia intermittent glances.

“Then don’t threaten my Commander,” she answered flatly.

“Enough,” the Commander raised his hand. “The past cannot be changed. China made a mistake here, that is not in dispute. I would prefer that we take this opportunity to start anew. Allies are better than enemies, but there are certain things that must be done to atone.” He looked to Qin. “This is not a negotiation, Mr. President.” He nodded to Zhang.

“XCOM will have full access to the Tiāngōng Intelligence,” Zhang began listing. “We are allowed to question any and all personnel affiliated with it. XCOM will also acquire full schematics of the housing structure, and the full source code of the program. In addition, we will also seize all original assets housing the CODEX system. We will also be allowed to conduct inspections and withdraw data acquired by the Tiāngōng Intelligence.”

“Do you really think you can just come here and make demands like that?” Qin demanded. “It is one thing coming from ADVENT. It is another from a small paramilitary organization, even one such as yours.”

The Commander exchanged a glance with Patricia. “Yes,” he answered simply. “I can do that. You will be able to retain the Tiāngōng Intelligence, but we will have everything needed to make our own. I suspect ADVENT will back me if you force this.” He paused, leaning forward. “But I would advise you not fight this, Mr. President. It will end badly for any plans you have to keep China independent.”

He motioned to the Beijing skyline. “This is all you have. The Tiāngōng Intelligence is your only insurance policy. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it.”

“The Tiāngōng Housing is under heavily military guard,” Lei shook his head. “I…understand you are upset, but nothing short of an army will breach it.”

“Patricia,” the Commander said after a few moments of thought. “Can you have General Kong give President Qin a call?”

“Certainly,” she answered, closing her eyes. “It will just take a few moments.”

“Armies, are unneeded,” the Commander continued as they waited. “You have no protection, no countermeasures. And you underestimate what would really be required. It could be a simple phone call to move soldiers around, or the power to suddenly go out, or something else miniscule.”

There was a tense silence after that, broken shortly by Qin reaching into his pocket and pulling out a phone. Not breaking eye contact with the Commander he answered it. A few seconds later he put it down again, face still as stone. Lei looked similarly shaken. “You have made your point, Commander,” he said quietly. “You will have what you need.”

“Excellent, that’s all I wanted,” the Commander said. “Contrary to what you like to believe, I don’t want you as an enemy. There are more important things to focus on, but I will not have one country hoarding valuable tech because of a vendetta or a misguided selfishness.”

“My people will be arriving tomorrow,” Zhang added, addressing Qin. “I expect there to not be any problems. I have formal agreements for your people to sign.”

“I will see they are handled,” Qin sighed as Zhang pulled out the documents. “I hope this is the last conversation of this nature we will have, Commander.”

“As do I,” he nodded. “But that, Mr. President, will largely be up to you.”

***

_Alien Containment, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/1/2016 – 10:22 A.M._

The Commander stood with Jackson and Aegis in front of the one-way looking glass at the newest member of the containment cells. “This is…interesting. Jackson, would you care to fill me in on why, exactly, there is an _Oyariah_ here.”

“I can do that easily enough,” Jackson looked down at her tablet. “The short version is that he was one of the aliens who defected. He’s been cooperative, but essentially said he wanted to speak to Aegis. ADVENT inquired if we wanted him, since the Priests determined that he was telling the truth, and I accepted.” She lowered the tablet. “Couldn’t hurt, and worst case we get a live Oyariah to experiment on. We benefit either way.”

“Acceptable,” the Commander nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he appraised the Oyariah before him. Like the others of his species, his black stony skin covered his body, only breaking at gaps for the joints. If the Commander wasn’t aware of how Oyariah biology worked, he would have assumed the Oyariah was still wearing some kind of armor.

He was seated on the bench in the back of the cell, waiting calmly for someone to make an appearance. The Oyariah’s faceplates weren’t ornate or complex, but simply just formed something akin to a skullcap over his head while leaving the grey-skinned face exposed. The black-pupiled eyes just stared ahead; seemingly sightless.

“The question is what to do with him if he _is_ cooperative,” the Commander noted. “Oyariah are not really known for their scientific or engineering expertise.”

“You would be surprised,” Aegis said. “Many hold that opinion because they live underground, but few recall that their cities are on an equal level of sophistication to others on Vitakar.” A pause. “However, I suspect this one does not fit that category.”

“No point delaying,” the Commander said, moving to psionically unlock the cell door, which slid to the side. He walked inside the room with the alien, with Aegis behind him.

The Oyariah immediately fell to one knee upon the entrance of the Ethereal. “Elder Aegis, you honor me with your presence.”

Aegis seemed to see what was needed and fell into the role immediately. “You may rise.”

The Oyariah did so, and rose to a height that was close to eight feet, if not slightly higher. “What is your name, Dweller of the Stone?”

Well, he was being fancy. But he was handling it well. “Rava’xarian’hegemon, Elder Aegis, formerly within the Guard of the Ravager.”

The Ravager of the Hegemony. The Commander looked at him with new interest. That was the closest thing the Oyariah had to a military leader, and if Xarian had been one of her guards, this was one of the highest-ranking defections. Aegis apparently had the same thought. “You abandoned your duty to the Ravager. Why?”

“Because of your appearance, Elder,” Xarian answered. “I have heard the stories of the Aegis within the Black Library. Your feats, your victories, all of which were shared by Elder Cogitian and immortalized by the One Encased.” He trailed off briefly. “My faith in the Elders has been…weakened for some time. They have become silent, less forthcoming to their disciples, I did not know the reason. But your revelation has made that clear. They have lied to us; hidden your departure out of shame or malice, I do not know which.”

The Oyariah shook his head in apparent disgust. “One does not lie to us and expect to be trusted. I did not know what to make of this initially, but then I remembered the legends, the ones where you fought the God-Machines time and time again. If there is a war brewing between the Elders, I will not fight for the side who hides the truth from our people. I have come to pledge myself to your service and fight against your enemies until your will is accomplished.”

Huh. The Commander had to admit the Oyariah had given them _quite_ a lot of useful information, even if it wasn’t intentional.

Such as the fact that the Ethereals had definitely been sharing information with the Oyariah, including knowledge about the Synthesized.

Well then.

 _His motivations are true,_ Aegis communicated. _He is not deceiving us._

“I am honored by your faith in me, and impressed with your conviction,” Aegis finally said. “Yet even I understand that not all who are opposed to me are deserving of death. My conflict is against the Imperator, not the Elders as a whole. I sense that you have this same understanding.”

“Yes, I do,” Xarian admitted. “Yet you are one who has never deceived my people, not truly. I believe that when you faced the same choice as Elders Sana’Ligna and Battlemaster in lying to my people, you refused and left. And if you oppose the Dread Lord, then it is only further proof that your side is the correct one.”

The Commander was now _very_ interested in what, exactly, the Oyariah knew about the Ethereals. Directly referencing Isomnum’s name of legend made him wonder what stories they knew of the Guardians or even Caelior. “Do you know who I am?” He finally asked, speaking for the first time.

“You are the Commander, one of the Godkillers and Slayer of the Ravaged One,” Xarian answered. “Your face and name are enshrined in the Halls of Stone, as are those of the Godkillers Patricia Trask, Moira Vahlen, and Franklin West. You are the only mortal to have faced the wrath of an Elder and live.”

Godkiller, huh. He quite liked the sound of that. “I don’t suppose I’m liked there then?”

“Any who are strong enough to kill an Elder are worthy of respect,” Xarian disputed with a shake of his head. “And whoever is the one to slay you, and the other Godkillers will be generously rewarded by the Elders themselves. Or so we have believed. Perhaps the False Elders have lied about even that.”

“Unlikely,” Aegis sighed. “They would reward any who slew one who killed our own.”

“And what do you believe about me?” The Commander asked. “You understand that, if this is permitted, you would be fighting on the side of a Godkiller?”

“The Ravaged One was reduced and diminished by the Machine-Gods and endured in this painful reality,” Xarian answered. “The legends show his power and tragedy. When he accepted the pain of a world, the Elder died that day. I am of the belief that you provided him a mercy, and if he was one of the Imperator’s kind, then your reasons are forgivable.”

“You didn’t quite answer my question.”

“Do you fight for the Elder Aegis?”

“I fight _with_ him,” the Commander corrected. “Not for him. We don’t view the Elders the same way as you do.”

“It is a perspective that is only truly gifted to my kind,” the Oyariah nodded. “Yet I am satisfied. The Elders are not to be limited, but seen and understood by all. If your species fights alongside Elder Aegis, than that is all I care about.”

“I am again honored by this,” Aegis said. “Yet I fear few of your brethren feel the same.”

“They follow the will of the Stalker, Ravager, and Messenger,” Xarian replied. “And many are not on this planet. I was on orders of the Ravager. Such a decision cannot be undertaken easily, and few are as versed with the legends of the Elders as I am.”

“If I may ask a question,” the Commander interjected, raising an eyebrow. “Why _are_ you? What is your interest in the Ethereals?”

“I was one of the Guard of the Ravager,” he answered, almost surprised that was asked. “To not be versed in such teachings and stories would be disgraceful. Yet I have spoken with them as well, my belief has been strong for decades and I consistently wished to strengthen it. What better way than to learn their histories and legends?”

“Fair point,” the Commander acknowledged.

“The Triumvirate of the Hegemony may come to the conclusion I have,” Xarian admitted. “They are even more familiar with the lore of the Black Library. But that is why it is important that one such as I publicly be seen in your service. Many of my brethren are simply confused and lost. They do not understand what is at stake, and seeing one of their own who fights at your side will convince those wavering to abandon the False Elders and take their rightful place at the side of an Elder in battle.”

“And you are willing to fight your own kind?” The Commander asked.

“In the service of Elder Aegis, I will do what I must,” Xarian inclined his head towards the Ethereal. “I will take no pleasure, but I will not fight against what I believe. I will not take the side of the liar and deceivers, even if I must turn my back on my brethren. They will understand, even if they cannot muster the courage to do the same.”

If there was one thing the Commander was certain of, it was that this was not an act. Even if he wasn’t as experienced in reading aliens as Humans, Xarian was not putting on a show. He truly seemed to believe this, and if that were the case, he could be a very valuable ally and recruiting tool. He was somewhat apprehensive of putting him in XCOM squads…but there was a first time for everything.

Maybe have a few test cases. See how he worked with other Humans.

Such a move was risky without the Manchurian Restraints, but for once, the Commander didn’t really believe those were needed here. “Jackson,” he said. “Did he come with any armor or weaponry?”

_“Yes, it was shipped with him.”_

“Good,” he looked at the Oyariah. “I’ve heard enough. If you’re willing to fight against the Imperator, I believe you could help us. If Aegis wishes to allow you into his service, I will permit it.”

Aegis looked to Xarian. “Do you desire this?”

“Of course, Elder Aegis.” Xarian said, falling once more to one knee.

“Then you will be the first of my personal guard,” Aegis said. “Aegis’xarian’hegemon, you will execute my will, fight in my name, and assist in restoring order to the Collective and this galaxy. Rise and take your place.”

The renamed Oyariah stood, and from what little skill the Commander had in telepathy, Xarian seemed genuinely happy. Aegis was very good at playing the role of a deity, ironically enough. “Your equipment will be returned to you shortly,” the Commander said. “And I’ll have some living quarters prepared and ensure that the soldiers are made aware. Just…learn some basics about Humans before you interact with us too much. Not all of them have the highest view of aliens.”

“Of course, Commander of Aegis,” Xarian nodded. “I will ensure I am familiar with your kind before extensive interaction.”

Oyariah liked their titles. The Commander had a feeling things were going to get interesting with him around. And he hadn’t even been told of Caelior yet. Granted, he was in a pod now, but he wouldn’t be there forever.

Hopefully the soldiers would take it well.

***

_XCOM Intelligence Control, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/1/2016 – 1:03 P.M._

Abby hoped that the scientists were continuing to be nice to her armor. She had _very strongly_ advised Vahlen not to even touch it, and given what happened to her rifle, Vahlen was inclined to agree. Instead she had settled for taking detailed scans which they were presumably going over now. Her leg was healing rapidly, thanks to XCOM medical equipment which was now a combination of alien equipment, nanotech, and maybe some Sovereign Tech, she wasn’t sure.

Once she was healed sufficiently, Abby was going to be doing some more tests wearing the suit, but right now there was the matter of the debriefing. Namely, watching Quisilia get thrown back into a wall. She really just wanted to watch that beautiful moment on repeat. It was so satisfying.

Zhang was not the only one in the room. For the first time, she was being introduced to the Ethereal himself. Aegis was very cordial towards her, and she returned the favor. There was something about being around him that made her feel more at ease. Probably something to do with his psionics, but she surprisingly didn’t feel uncomfortable around him, despite him towering over her.

The video finished and clicked off. “Aegis?” Zhang asked, turning towards him. “What do you make of this?”

“This is unexpected,” he answered slowly, carefully. “I was not aware there were rogue Sovereign Ones…as this…vessel….seemed to imply.”

That reminded Abby of something. “What, exactly, is a Sovereign One? I feel it’s something I should know about.”

“Something very old,” Zhang began curtly, looking at her intently. “What we discuss here doesn’t leave this room. Suffice to say you’ve stumbled upon a mystery even the Ethereals haven’t figured out. Aegis, care to fill her in?”

“Certainly,” Aegis said. “I will be brief.”

And so he proceeded to give the very short history about how the Ethereals fell, which it turned out they had come up against some kind of machine-organic hybrid, if the word “Synthesized” was to be believed. The Imperator had frozen a select few in stasis with the intention to awaken later and take revenge. When they had woken up, they had been contacted by other survivors called Sovereign Ones who provided them with highly advanced technology.

No, there was definitely _nothing_ suspicious about that.

Abby saw quite a lot of holes in the Imperator’s so-called plan. Holes so large that there was no way that he was ignorant of them. The idea that the Ethereals, all…ten of them? All of them would conquer the galaxy and prepare for an enemy they weren’t sure was even coming back?

There _had_ to be another reason.

But she picked up the main point Aegis was trying to make. “So they never mentioned there was a rogue Sovereign One.”

“Or multiple ones,” Zhang added. “The names he listed. The Bringer. The Black Fleet. Do any of those seem familiar?”

“I have never heard of them before,” Aegis shook his head. “I was not the primary communicator between the Imperator and the Sovereign Ones.”

“And who was?” Abby asked.

“An Ethereal who the Imperator chose to be the Voice of the Sovereign,” Aegis answered. “She volunteered to be the vessel of communication, and as far as I know, she is who Revelean, Fectorian, and the Imperator go to when they wish to speak. I know the Imperator has spoken with them himself on occasion.”

“And you?” Zhang asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Once,” Aegis said. “It was an…interesting experience. They were capable of shattering even my strongest defenses. I was somewhere else for a time, underwater I think, but I could breathe and move as easily as I do now. The Sovereign One took the form of an alien I didn’t recognize. Blue-skinned, very similar to humans actually, feminine is the word. The head seemed composed of strange ridges.”

“I’m sensing a theme,” Abby muttered. These Sovereign Ones seemed to like water and aquatics. She doubted it was a coincidence. “The Chronicler’s little hiding place has a lot of water, and a chamber with one of these orbs. Something he warned me not to touch.”

“I know what you speak of,” Aegis nodded. “I believe they are some kind of link to Sovereign Ones. The Voice carries one with her at all times.”

“Well, it seems they lied about some things,” Zhang noted, looking back to the video. “Or at minimum left out some key bits of information. This Chronicler almost killed _Quisilia_ and would have if not for freak timing. And you said he isn’t dead?”

“Quisilia didn’t seem to think so,” Abby shook her head. “However, Quisilia definitely made a powerful enemy if that is the case.”

“Agreed,” Zhang nodded. “If this Chronicler returns, I would suggest we seek him out. He could be a powerful ally.”

“Did you not hear ‘this species is mine’?” Abby demanded. “Is that _really_ a good idea?”

Zhang pursed his lips. “That is a good point. By this point he has to realize the sides of the war. Turning him down might be dangerous for us. Dealing with Ethereals is hard enough; we don’t need another powerful entity angry at us.”

“I would also caution against this Sovereign One, if it is truly one,” Aegis added. “This does not match with what we know of the Sovereign Ones. I cannot help but wonder if they have realized that the Imperator is no longer interested in fighting the Synthesized and are seeking…other opportunities. We should proceed cautiously.”

“You say ‘what we know’,” Zhang said pointedly. “But be honest: How much do we _really_ know about them?”

“That they are also allies against the Synthesized,” Aegis answered. “Ones who are willing to share their gifts with us and are united in this cause. They have never shown hostile intentions towards us.”

“So they have all this advanced technology,” Abby said slowly. “And yet they haven’t managed to kill the Synthesized. And you know this because….why? They told you?”

“Admittedly, yes,” Aegis sighed. “It is…difficult to explain properly. Even sharing the memory would not be the same. These beings are older than we are. Far older. I cannot imagine many are left. They need us; perhaps we’re next in a long line, but in the end, our goals align. Should we be successful…I suppose we’ll proceed from there.”

“I’ll state right here that I don’t trust anything like that,” Abby shook her head. “Not after what I saw. That isn’t normal, and anything that can throw around an Ethereal isn’t something to take lightly. Let the Commander make that call.”

“He will,” Zhang assured her, scratching his chin. “Despite how everything ended up, you’ve done well here. Once Vahlen finishes running her tests, we’ll send you out. In the meantime, take a rest. You’ve earned it.”

Abby nodded. “Thank you, Director.” She yawned. “A few days of rest will be welcome.”

***

_Office of the Commander, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/2/2016 - 4:12 P.M._

Internal Council meetings were unfortunately rarer in recent days, although they had the admittedly acceptable excuse of having so much work to do, not to mention little conflicts in America, Korea, and Japan. But the recent battles had highlighted the issues that needed to be addressed, and that was something they were going to discuss right now.

“Overall, I believe we came out on top here,” the Commander opened as they stood in front of his desk, Aegis included. “We’ve regained significant ground in America, Japan is close to fully reclaimed, and we have held South Korea. Overall, I’d say we held our own.”

“Barring Washington and Alaska being attacked,” Shen added. “But I agree. We…did well.”

“Far better than I had feared,” Aegis nodded. “The ADVENT Priests were instrumental in the defense. The Collective has been set back, and while we should not become complacent, the Battlemaster will consider this a loss. Now that I am…active…he will not attack until he has some way to negate my abilities.”

“So we’re likely to enter a lull in the war,” the Commander nodded. “Good. ADVENT will likely focus on expansion, and in the meantime, we will focus on projects of our own. There are a few things I would like to bring up. Zhang?”

“The footage of the supposed Sovereign One avatar,” Zhang stepped forward. “Given the words of both Quisilia and the Chronicler, this Sovereign One has likely developed some interest in our species. Should he return, we should make an effort to at least determine what the ultimate goals and motivations for it are. We can’t let something like that wander around unchecked.”

“At least it’s not friendly with the aliens,” Vahlen noted. “Sovereign technology is still so far beyond us. A living one would be a valuable ally.”

“Except we know very little about them,” the Commander shot Aegis a look. “While they are supposedly against the Synthesized, the other names mentioned make me think that this is more complicated than what they presented to the Ethereals. In any event, we should at least attempt contact.”

“And if it becomes hostile?” Zhang asked.

“Then we deal with it,” the Commander sighed. “Although I don’t fancy our chances, not against something like that. Vahlen, tell them what you got from that armor Abby brought back.”

“I’ll tell what little I can,” Vahlen brushed back her hair and cleared her throat. “The armor itself is made out of some kind of substance that is most certainly not from Earth, or at minimum is an artificial combination of multiple elements. The texture is similar to stone, but it is actually manipulable to an extent. More importantly, tests done with Agent Gertrude reveal that it can harden itself upon an object hitting it, essentially lessening the impact.”

“How?” Zhang demanded.

“That,” Vahlen said slowly. “Revolves around very little. Comprehensive 3D scans show that there _is_ some kind of…power source. We couldn’t get to it without cutting into the armor itself, but it was definitely a sphere of some kind. Given that spheres seem to be a trademark of these Sovereign Ones, perhaps these are used for more than communication.”

“So it’s standard Sovereign Tech,” Jackson commented. “Incomprehensible and powerful. Great.”

“And the direct interface it has with the user requires a level of precision that would not be possible without a computer with AI levels of computational power,” Vahlen added. “Abigail did not describe the insertions of these wires as painful, but given that she received a substantial boost to her stamina and strength, it is also highly possible they are injecting enhancing chemicals.”

“From what?” Shen asked. “Is it just making that stuff?”

“We don’t know,” Vahlen shook her head. “Very little of the armor makes sense, and she was very insistent no one else try it due to her rifle exploding when the Hunter tried picking it up. I would normally not be apprehensive…but this is one area where caution is prudent.”

“Speaking of that,” the Commander looked to Shen. “The Chosen weapons. What have you learned about them?”

“Those at least follow some logic,” Shen answered, stepping forward. “For obvious reasons I’ve made sure no one has fired it, but imaging shows it to essentially be a miniaturized railgun. Very slow reload speeds, and it can only fire three shots, but nothing really comes close to it in sheer kinetic power. At least for firearms.”

The Commander rested his hands on his desk, thinking. “Can we replicate it?”

“Not immediately,” Shen shook his head. “But it will serve well in improving our gauss tech. We’ve gotten all we can from scans. The only thing left is to actually try firing it.”

“But he trapped it?” The Commander guessed.

“Yes, he did,” Shen nodded. “However, he also set it to unlock on a combination of his DNA and fingerprint. That would normally be a problem…except Agent Gertrude was able to recover his intact limbs. We will use those to unlock the rifle.”

“Excellent,” the Commander smiled. “Now, we need to shift our focus towards two issues that have arisen recently: Nanotech and the Manchurian Restraints.”

Vahlen coughed. “I would also like to say that Project Innsmouth has been proceeding faster than I anticipated. Given the increased deployment of…certain…Ethereals, this is something we should continue.”

“The fuck is Project Innsmouth?” Jackson asked, shooting Vahlen a glance.

The Commander and Vahlen exchanged a knowing look. While he wasn’t fully caught up on her progress, what she’d told him about it was enough to be more than useful. “An Ethereal hunter,” he explained simply. “Something not susceptible to mind control and with a taste for aliens.”

“It is a truly disturbing project.” Aegis added.

“Project Innsmouth can continue as usual,” the Commander redirected, not wanting to get off topic. “Let’s focus on these issues here. We need protection from nanotech, and to preferably deploy some of our own.”

“EMP weapons are the first weapons we should invest in,” Shen began. “WHEEE cannons will be useful, but we need wide-range EMP weapons to destroy things like Spectres. Periodic EMP emitters would also be useful to protect certain areas. The catch is that it requires us to harden everything against EMPs.”

“Nanotech isn’t going away,” the Commander shook his head. “It might take time, but we should work to completely harden ourselves against EMP. I know ADVENT will likely do the same to some effect. Vahlen, is there any progress on controllable nanites by soldiers?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “It is only in highly limited quantities, but Operated MELD, as I have designated it, is now proven to be possible. In theory, this would allow the user to completely control how the MELD performs, be it attack by working similar to the Spectres, or in a defensive manner such as repair, creating structures, or acting as armor. I have also begun the investigation into…integrated MELD.”

“Which is?” Jackson asked.

“Incorporating nanotech itself more extensively into the Human body,” Vahlen clarified. “Not in the same way as gene mods, but…well, acting both as a secondary immune system and protective skin. It’s relatively new, but initial results are promising.”

“I’ll check on that later,” the Commander nodded. “Other kinds of nanoweapons such as warheads and grenades should also be developed. Shen?”

“Already started on that.” Shen didn’t seem to really approve, as his face was set in a frown. “I figured you’d want something like that. As far as nanotech goes, it is one of the simpler applications.”

“Glad to hear it.” Now the Commander transitioned to what was likely the more important topic. “Now, the Manchurian Program. I want to resume dedicated research on it. We’ve had too many instances where it would have been useful, and with the PRIEST Program in full swing, I want it deployed before there is an incident.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Patricia agreed. “No matter how careful ADVENT is, someone will abuse it, if it hasn’t happened already.”

“That is the primary concern, yes,” the Commander nodded. “And we need it for our alien guests here.” He glanced up at Aegis. “ _All_ of them. While I do genuinely believe our resident aliens will not betray us, that is not a chance we can afford. And our own psions need to have restrictions placed on them before something happens.”

“I have the feeling you’re referring to a very specific scenario,” Patricia noted dryly.

“Not you, not this time,” he answered shaking his head. “Our friend Geist. Who, I am almost convinced of, briefly mind controlled Engineer Kun in response to her criticism of his leadership.”

“You’re certain?” Vahlen asked.

“Very,” the Commander said neutrally. “I do not believe Geist knows that I watch combat logs, especially ones who I know have known issues interacting with people. I’m half-tempted to execute him for that, but this is Geist, who isn’t exactly sensitive to other people, and who is our most powerful Human psion. I don’t believe he intended it maliciously, but I’ll leave that decision to someone else.” He looked to Patricia. “Determine if he did it or not. If he did, make sure he doesn’t do it again. If he lies to you, or refuses, kill him. I won’t have someone like that leading my soldiers, regardless of his power.”

Patricia’s lips were set in a razor line. “Gladly. He won’t give you more trouble.”

“The point is that we need to keep all psions in check,” the Commander said. “There are not going to be exceptions to this; not me, or you, Aegis. Not for any aliens, and also not for any of _us_.” He looked around the room. “We are all in a position where we cannot afford to take any risks. We can’t afford betrayal, either via psionics or discussion. Patricia, even though the Imperator has not actually tried to make you defect, I don’t trust him not to make that decision eventually. And I also expect him to try for everyone else. It is a simple precaution, but we cannot be risked like this.”

“Is there a line?” Shen asked rhetorically. “Why not do the same to all our soldiers if that’s your justification.”

The Commander fixed Shen with a stare. “I am considering just that.”

There definitely seemed to be some conflict on that. “I’m not sure that’s necessary,” Jackson said slowly. “It’s one thing to subject psions to this, but regular soldiers? Analysts? The maintenance crews? That borders on paranoia, not to mention it would destroy the goodwill you’ve created here.”

“Not to mention a massive security risk should the aliens acquire the means to control us,” Shen added. “Psions I have to agree with. Even us. But not the soldiers. They have not done anything to deserve it.”

“It’s not a matter of deserving it,” the Commander sighed. “Most psions don’t deserve it either. But we’re in a war where the mind is easily turned and manipulated. Like it or not, we need to consider _all_ possible safeguards.” He lifted a hand. “I’ve not made a decision either way, but you should know I’m considering it.”

There was some brief silence. “Is there anything else that needs to be addressed?”

They all shook their heads. “Good. Dismissed.”

***

_Quarters of Overseer Trask, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/2/2016 - 6:00 P.M._

Sometimes Patricia wondered if she was slowly and insidiously going insane. Really, she had all the symptoms for diagnosis. She regularly saw an imaginary person, appeared to talk to herself a lot, and everyone else told her not to interact with the imaginary person. If she actually didn’t know better, she would have called _herself_ crazy.

Unfortunately, the Imperator was very much still real, and still leaning against the wall as she waited for Geist to come. “I don’t even know why you’re here,” she finally said. “Are you really going to be following me around my entire life doing my job?”

“Unlikely your entire life,” he answered, in the form of the Commander, although with the addition of black orbs for eyes. “You will die long before I will.”

Patricia cocked her head towards him. “You’re certainly confident. Things haven’t been going too well for you. Although, part of that _is_ your fault.”

“The Battlemaster is handling the issues Aegis has caused in the Collective,” the Imperator dismissed with a wave of his hand. “But do tell me _why_ I should be concerned?”

Patricia sighed, rubbing her forehead. “If you were a little easier to figure out, maybe I can tell you why. But I don’t really know even what you _want_. I would rather know why you are focusing on _me_ of all people? Why not the Commander, or Aegis, or even _Geist_? It’s not like I’m the only powerful psion on Earth.”

The Imperator smiled, looking thoughtfully up in the air. “Because of all the people you mentioned, very few would be interested in simply conversing with me. They are too suspicious, too oriented to being my intrinsic enemy. Aegis could simply block my communication, and neither the Commander or Geist would be interested in speaking.”

He inclined his head towards her. “While you are rather deriding sometimes, you are more…open. Willing to take some risks; willing to orient your position based on what you have experienced; willing to logically change your position based on evidence.” He nodded. “Aegis cannot seem to grasp that I have no intention of mind controlling you.”

“But you _are_ trying to make me see something,” Patricia noted, looking at him neutrally. “This isn’t, and has never been, just innocent chit-chat.”

“Of _course_ I am,” the Imperator answered emphatically. “But as for what, you will have to come to that decision on your own. It is something I cannot force. But you don’t have all the information yet; there are still questions you need answers to. Information that will allow you to grasp the… _scale_ of what we all are a part of.”

“And is there a reason you’re not telling me this?” She asked wearily.

“Now?” He raised an eyebrow. “Not the time or place, especially with Geist set to arrive shortly. But that time is coming soon. There are no more tests left for you, only decisions.”

“Really.” She wasn’t _completely_ surprised to hear that. “Tests.”

“Ones you passed, do not concern yourself with them,” he explained. “Someday I’ll elaborate, but if you did not have the potential nor right mindset, then we would not be speaking. I do not waste my time with impossible tasks.”

“You’re not exactly making yourself sound trustworthy,” Patricia noted. “I really do not like being manipulated, or treated as a…’task’.”

“You know better than to assume the most malicious interpretation,” the Imperator answered knowingly. “Anything can be a task; and I suspect you are no different. No one intelligent devotes time to something that they know will fail. And if I was truly intending to use you, I wouldn’t have mentioned anything, would I?”

“Maybe you’re arrogant enough to try,” she guessed, although he had a good point. Barring some large questions, namely his motivations, the Imperator had and continued to be strangely honest. She really did not know how best to deal with him. Cutting him off seemed rather pointless, since he could likely bypass anything she did, and honestly somewhat mean. He _had_ been rather helpful to her, and it seemed wrong to cut him off for no actual legitimate reason.

“Mhmm, I suppose I’ll find out soon enough,” he said, looking to the door. “Geist is approaching. I suggest you prepare. We will speak again.”

He vanished once more, leaving her to deal with the troublesome psion.

She sighed.

Geist was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the Imperator. She legitimately did not know what he’d been _thinking_ openly manipulating Nuan’s mind so brazenly. Even if she hadn’t seen the footage and asked some questions of Nuan, it would have been so blatantly obvious that no one would really struggle to come to the conclusion.

Knowing Geist, he probably legitimately believed he was in the right. For being relatively new to XCOM and psionics in general, he was rather full of himself and always attempting to maintain his superiority over…well, everyone. He was the kind of person who couldn’t have someone else be in charge.

Someone had to teach him consequences. And she was more than willing to do so.

The door slid open and Geist walked inside, giving an unimpressed look around her room. “Overseer Trask, you wished to speak to me?” He felt very calm and confident, although there was some confusion lurking beneath.

“Yes, on the orders of the Commander,” she answered neutrally. “There have been some issues with your conduct with your soldiers.”

“Ah, complaints,” he nodded, relaxing further. “I’m certain I can straighten that out. I am aware my own personal commanding style is different compared to yours or the Commander’s, but it has certainly led to acceptable results.”

“Which is certainly why Sacramento is still in the hands of the aliens,” she answered dryly. “But no. While I do not personally approve of your command style, that is subjective to a degree. This is much more serious.”

He frowned. “If not that, then what?”

“Engineer Kun,” she explained. “Did you telepathically influence or manipulate her?”

He blinked several times, surprise washing over him. “I have telepathically influenced multiple soldiers, both in ADVENT and XCOM. I assisted in sustaining-“

He suddenly trailed off as a bolt of light pain shot from him. Geist was a powerful telepath, but he didn’t know how to defend against lower-brain telepathy, where she had gotten much better over the past few days. “Please don’t avoid the question,” Patricia said quietly, knowing her brief draw on psionics was giving her eyes a purple tinge. “Both of us know what I’m talking about.”

“How would you even acquire the information needed to make that accusation?” He asked.

“Because the Commander watches combat footage,” Patricia answered. “And likes to focus on more prominent or troublesome individuals. You were not exactly subtle, and questioning of Engineer Kun has confirmed this. Be very careful about what you say next.”

One eyebrow was raised. “And what exactly would you do to me?”

“That depends,” she answered, turning away from him briefly in thought. “This kind of manipulation is very serious and reflects exceptionally poorly on a psion’s ability to respect the minds of allies, and indicates a lack of psionic maturity. I have been tolerant of you, Geist, even if you have a tendency to read people’s minds without their consent. But that is going to stop _now_.”

She turned back to him. “The Commander has authorized me to execute you if I feel you are a danger. The only reason he _didn’t_ was because there is a disturbingly high chance that you didn’t realize what you did was actually wrong.”

For one of the first times, Geist actually seemed to be nervous. His eyes darted towards her, and he took a brief step back as she moved towards him. “In retrospect, such an action was probably unwise. However, Engineer Kun was becoming more focused on me and less on the mission. I simply redirected her focus where it mattered.”

Patricia just stared at him, took a few seconds, and waited. Geist didn’t seem to realize something was wrong at first, then his eyes widened as it dawned on him that he couldn’t breathe. “That, _Von Theil,_ is unacceptable,” Patricia stated as an expression of panic settled across his face. “ _That_ is not a justification. The only circumstances where manipulating the mind of an ally is allowed is to _help_ them, not to _hide_ from criticism, and certainly not because you _could_.”

Geist fell to one knee, one hand on his throat. “You made…ah, your point,” he gasped. “What are…doing?”

“Your lungs have stopped working,” she answered, deliberately pausing. “Temporarily. You seem to be under the impression you are indispensable just because you are powerful,” She knelt down by him. “So let me be very clear. The next time I hear something like this happening, or witness it myself, I will kill you and not think twice about it. People like us have been gifted something extraordinary, and I will not let it be abused like this.”

She relaxed her mental control of his lungs and allowed them to function again, and he gasped as he sucked in air. “You are the type of person who makes the Manchurian Restraints a necessity,” she said grimly. “You lack any kind of restraint or sensitivity. Psions like you will give the rest of us a bad name. This is a rare chance in Human history where we have an opportunity to make those who would normally fear us, instead trust us. Actions like yours do not accomplish that goal.”

Patricia narrowed her eyes at the man who was still gathering himself, before shakily standing. “Do you understand? I don’t care if you think I’m wrong, or if you disagree; this is going to be the standard you are held to. No more mind reading. No more altering the minds of our soldiers. Otherwise you die.”

“You have made your point,” Geist breathed slowly. “This…will not happen again.”

“Good.” She waved at him. “Dismissed. And if you actually want to make some amends, apologize to Nuan.”

“I…will consider that,” he said, before turning to leave.

Patricia wasn’t exactly keen on receiving the planned Manchurian Restraints, but if it meant that people like Geist were kept under control, then that was an acceptable tradeoff.

***

_ADVENT HQ – Switzerland_

_12/4/2016 – 11:55 A.M._

Truth be told, Saudia was not entirely sure what to expect when meeting Aegis. XCOM had provided quite a bit of information on him, but Saudia was personally sort of skeptical on how accurate it really could be. She had no doubt that XCOM had made it to the best of their ability, but the truth was that being able to even begin to figure out the mindset of a telepathic alien that was thousands of years old was not something she figured was quite as easy as XCOM might think.

Furthermore, hearing his _actual_ reasons, namely that there was something else out there that had been powerful enough to wipe out an entire _empire_ of Ethereals was not reassuring. That to her seemed like a much more likely goal. Aegis didn’t like the way the Imperator was handling this event, and was taking matters into his own hands.

She was not working on the assumption that he actually cared about Humans, but saw them as a means to an end. Granted, it was sort of reciprocated. Aegis on their side was also a means to an end, but what made her question his commitment was that it didn’t seem likely that he _wanted_ to actually destroy the Collective.

This was primarily against the Imperator. He had Humans, the Imperator had the Collective. From one perspective it could be viewed as a light proxy war, and she disliked the concept. She didn’t know how much influence he had with XCOM, but she was not going to let the Ethereal dictate how ADVENT ran this war. They’d been doing well enough without his help so far.

In fact, everyone was making the calculated assumption that the Collective was not going to make any major moves for some time. This was a loss for them; they needed time to recover, reevaluate, and from the sounds of it, they were going to have to deal with several of the other species demanding answers.

That would tie them up for some time, hopefully.

They weren’t completely lowering their guard, if the Collective attacked once more they would be ready to mobilize, but now they had an opportunity to focus on other matters. The expansion of ADVENT was a priority, and Saudia wanted to fully bring Europe into the fold sooner than later; the UK would be the start, and in the meantime she’d make an aggressive diplomatic push for some of the nations on the tipping point.

It would also be wise to strengthen relations with China. While she was sure they would eventually join, as an ally, they deserved some additional consideration. A few joint ADVENT-China projects would not be unwelcome, and they had rather surprisingly said they would be interested in working on further refining of the Tiāngōng Intelligence, as well as allowing ADVENT to research it on their own.

She suspected that XCOM had something to do with their willingness to openly share such an important development, but that was something she should reward. Joint ADVENT-Chinese military exercises were also in the works between Laura, Weekes, and the Chinese Generals. Overall she saw a much brighter future for China and ADVENT ahead.

South America and Africa would be problems solved in the future. They were ultimately not important in the grand scheme of things, even if her homeland happened to reside in the latter. Although, perhaps it couldn’t hurt to at least gauge what effect the SAS was having on the region. So far they’d largely kept to themselves.

But on the front of technological and military progress, there was much to be done. XCOM was reinvesting heavily in the Manchurian Restraints, Elerium was now figured out, and nanotechnology was on the rise. ADVENT needed to be able to utilize and counter these dangers. And also think ahead for the future.

The war would, inevitably, move to space. They needed a fleet.

The question was where to build one that would both be easy to defend, and able to be hidden from prying eyes. The solution to that was somewhat…unorthodox, but she had been insured it was possible. It would require a massive initial cost, the development of newer safe technology, and the exploration of one of the last unknown parts of the planet, but it could be done.

She’d given her approval, and the near-unlimited amount of resources had been approved by Congress. The project was already proceeding at full speed.

If it worked well, the Collective would never see it coming.

The recent events had made her also realize that ADVENT, if it was going to last, was going to need to have some kind of future-proofing to avoid potential issues in the event that they were victorious. While the alien problem was one that was easy to leave behind as a non-issue, the fact was that at the end of this, there _were_ still going to be aliens. There were probably even more they’d never encountered.

So they would have to figure out a means of peacefully interacting with them. The alien defectors were thankfully something they could handle, and served as a warning to them to actually figure out some way to…deal with them. What the questioned boiled down to was _if_ aliens should be allowed to fully integrate into ADVENT as actual citizens.

ADVENT was and always would be a body that put Human interests first. That did not necessarily mean that aliens needed to be excluded if they shared those same goals. It was not unreasonable to assume that some aliens would find ADVENT more appealing than their own species, and if that was the case, what logical basis was there to deny them aside from xenophobia.

It was a good way to unite a population; by giving them an enemy to hate, they would generally fall in line, especially given that the threat was enslavement or extinction. It worked well in the short term, but assuming they won, it would ultimately lead to more problems. Knowing what she knew about the aliens thanks to XCOM, Saudia did not necessarily believe that the majority of aliens were unreasonable, nor necessarily impossible to coexist with.

The Ethereals should never be allowed to hold any sort of power again; that was exceptionally clear. Everything that had happened was their fault, and it showed the dangers of an organization dominated by psions. Few could oppose them else it would lead to them dying or being mind controlled. The Ethereals had their chance, and they had failed. A more responsible species needed to take their place.

The Sectoid Hive Commanders were also a species she held in little regard. They were like the Ethereals to a lesser extent, dominated by psions and had full control over every aspect of their species. Abhorrent, dangerous, and the least understandable of all the aliens. Saudia saw no reason to allow them to continue to exist. In many areas, the Hive Commanders were no better than the Ethereals.

The Vitakara and Andromedons were different. The former was essentially tricked by the Ethereals, and Saudia suspected the latter only allied out of convenience rather than actual loyalty. But from what she’d gathered on the Aui’Vitakar, the entire race was not especially violent and more inclined towards a peaceful cooperation. She wondered how the Ethereals had convinced them to send their armies to invade Earth.

The Andromedons seemed to be held together by a tenuous peace at best. If given the opportunity, Saudia did not think it impossible to convince several of the Unions that they were a suitable alternative to the Ethereals. From the information she had, exploiting previous tensions within the Unions themselves was certainly possible, and the entire species was a powder keg that just needed an appropriate spark to ignite it.

Both the Sectoids and Ethereals might serve as that spark.

The point was that ADVENT needed to decide how it was going to treat aliens in the future. Saudia had no intention of ADVENT being isolationist. They would serve the interests of Humans first and foremost, but there was a certain fact that was becoming clearer and clearer with each passing day. The Commander had no doubt seen it, and even her military advisors knew the same thing, even if they were reluctant to voice it.

They would not win this war without alien help.

If not for Aegis, XCOM would be significantly behind. They would not know any of this. If XCOM didn’t have a double agent working for them, they wouldn’t be able to sabotage the Collective from the inside. It was an ugly truth, but the fact was that there was no chance they could take on the Collective – and win – without having alien allies. One Ethereal was a massive boost to their legitimacy, and with how many aliens were already defecting…more would probably join them.

And that was a resource that Saudia did not want to throw away, not only because it would boost their own numbers, but also because it was an opportunity to send a very clear message to the Collective in how they treated aliens. Humans were treated by the Collective as expendable test subjects and chattel; aliens were treated well by them, and were actually given opportunities if they wished it.

It would make more good propaganda, at any rate. It might get some of the aliens thinking.

 _“He’s here, Chancellor,”_ Ethan informed her through her intercom. _“He’s…big.”_

“I’ll be waiting,” she answered, and settled in for what was likely to be an interesting conversation. A few minutes later the Ethereal himself walked through the door to her office, having to duck under the door. Human architecture was definitely not suited for aliens that were a good three or so feet higher than the average.

“Aegis,” Saudia greeted, standing and looking up at him. “Welcome, I’m glad we finally get to meet.”

“The feeling is mutual, Chancellor,” he answered, his voice deep and with a layered quality to it. She’d heard psions speak like that, but only when using their abilities. It seemed Ethereals did it naturally. She’d been warned that being around Aegis would affect her mind, make her feel more confident, secure, and safe than she might normally be.

From how she felt now, that seemed to be true. She wanted to experience it at least once and then take that and determine if she’d want protection next time. Oddly enough she didn’t feel _too_ different, but she also noted that she should at least be feeling _somewhat_ uneasy being so close to an Ethereal.

“Well, take a seat,” she said, moving her own chair to the middle of the room where the oversized one Aegis would use was set up. The Ethereal complied, and the resulting image did look somewhat ridiculous, but Saudia ignored that and decided to get right into it. “I admit, I didn’t think this would actually happen.”

“An understandable assumption,” Aegis said through his helmet; she wondered why he seemed to wear it everywhere he went. “This is…unusual. My kind have been united for millennia. I am the first to…rebel…if you wish to ascribe a word to it.”

“No matter how you describe it, you have certainly made an impact,” Saudia nodded. “You’ve told the Commander your reasons. He has shared them with me. The Synthesized; the ones who wiped out your Empire. Your goal is to fight them, correct?”

“A long-term goal, correct,” Aegis confirmed. “There is no higher one right now. What matters is improving, uniting, and preparing. The Ethereal Collective was supposed to be that solution, but the Imperator has abandoned this goal. It is little more than a loose collection of species who rarely interact on a meaningful level.”

“Right,” Saudia crossed her legs. “Your goal is understandable. But I do wonder where you _now_ fit into this plan. Or for that matter, how you see _us_ in this plan. Are we a means to an end for you to eventually assume control of the Collective and then reform it?”

“By the end of this,” Aegis said heavily. “I suspect the Ethereal Collective will not exist, at least not in the form we know today. Something new needs to be created, a truly united collection of species, and with your species presumably the victors, you will assume this role. The time of the Ethereals is…past. It would take thousands of years to rebuild our numbers, even with thousands of Ethereal cloning chambers. A new species must arise to take its place. Humanity can fulfill that role, and I will ensure that the same mistakes are not made.”

That was…surprisingly reasonable. “You don’t wish for a position of authority?”

“I have no need of recognition by your people,” the Ethereal shook his head. “I am content in XCOM. I will endure long after you are dead and gone. Titles and authority should go to ones who will not retain it indefinitely. And I suspect you would not want an alien influencing your government.” A pause. “At least not an Ethereal.”

“I will say I’m glad to hear it,” Saudia said. “We have enough aliens trying to take control of my species. But that does bring up the fact that Ethereals will die before this war ends. You convinced the Commander to spare Caelior, but it will not be the same for all of them.”

“I am aware,” Aegis exhaled, resting his two lower arms on his lap. “Caelior did not deserve to die. He was young and manipulated since birth. There are Ethereals that deserve to live besides him. Not all should be punished for serving the Imperator; every Ethereal killed is one that cannot be replaced in the upcoming war. That needs to be taken into account.”

“But that should not be your decision,” Saudia noted firmly, resting her hands on her lap. “Some Ethereals are too dangerous to be left alive. Isomnum; the Imperator; the Overmind. They pose too great a threat to _ever_ allow to live, and of course, ADVENT will not let the one who ordered the invasion of our world to live.”

“Yet there are ways of keeping them…reduced,” Aegis pointed out. “The Manchurian Restraints are proof of this.”

“No.” Saudia stated flatly. “There is no redemption for some. ADVENT will make an example out of anyone who dares to attack us without provocation. Should we win, the Imperator will be executed. I would ask you resign yourself to that fact.”

“I suppose it is too much for you to overlook,” Aegis sighed. “Yet even now, I do not believe he is malicious. Just…on the wrong path. I do not know what led him to take these actions, but he must be stopped now.”

“I’m glad we agree there,” Saudia took a moment to let him think. “Now, there was something I specifically wanted to discuss with you. I have been appraised of a number of alien defections. Vitakara and Andromedons primarily.”

“That is good news,” Aegis congratulated.

“They all had one thing in common,” she said pointedly. “You.”

“I am not surprised,” Aegis agreed. “My kind were…exalted in the Collective. We are figures larger than life to many of them. My appearance has no doubt shaken their loyalty to the apathetic Imperator. The Battlemaster can only retain so much influence.”

“And as a result, we have something of an issue,” Saudia continued. “ADVENT was designed with the goal of Human defense and enhancement. Yet it is apparent that having a plan for dealing with alien prisoners is also a necessity…as well as working with defectors.”

“ADVENT would certainly benefit from a structured plan for such aliens,” the Ethereal said. “And if you are bringing this up, I suspect you have something already in mind.”

“We will face a crossroads in the future,” Saudia explained. “I suspect some of the defectors will wish to fully join ADVENT. That is not something we are prepared for, nor will it be popular. However, I believe it is the best course of action. Having aliens remain either POWs or second-class citizens benefits no one and breeds xenophobia. Considering we are working together, I think it should be avoided.”

“As do I,” Aegis said wearily. “It did not ultimately work for the Empire, and it will not work for your species. It is an admirable goal; one which I am impressed you have the foresight to plan for.”

Saudia stood and walked over to her desk. “In the past few days I’ve begun the preliminary development of a department for this specific purpose. As an alien who is familiar with Collective species, your input would be welcome.” She handed the tablet to the Ethereal.

He read it for a few moments. “The Alien Emissarial and General Integration Service.” He looked up, voice almost amused. “AEGIS.”

“Considering their common motivation is you, I felt it was appropriate,” Saudia said, smiling. “That, Aegis, will handle our alien captives, both defectors and POWs, as well as diplomacy with other alien governments. The ultimate goal is to successfully integrate interested aliens into ADVENT, successfully extract information from POWs and eventually convince them of the error of their ways, and to facilitate communication between ADVENT and…interested alien parties.”

She nodded towards him. “There are a certain percentage of aliens who wish to fight directly for you. We are evaluating and marking ones we feel you would get more…use out of. If you wish, we can send them to you and you could form your own little militia. They would feel better fighting for an Ethereal than a Human, and the soldiers are not ready to fight alongside aliens yet.”

“The Commander may not enjoy so many aliens taking residence in the Praesidium,” Aegis said, lowering the tablet. “But I am certain we could come to some kind of agreement. We both agree that having willing combatants turned away is a waste.”

“Yes,” Saudia nodded. “While you do primarily work with XCOM, I would ask that you assist us in at least the development of this service, and it might do some good to visit our alien defectors. Make them know you are aware of their existence. It would make things easier for us.”

“That can be arranged,” Aegis confirmed. “I believe we will work together well, Chancellor.”

“Glad to hear it,” she answered. “I think that with you helping us, our chances have improved significantly.”

***

_Officer of the Commander, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/10/2016 – 6:12 P.M._

There was still no public response from the Collective, nor military activity of any kind.

The Commander certainly wasn’t complaining about the lack of response from the Collective, and that indicated to him that the lull would probably continue for some time yet. He imagined that the Collective would want to make sure everything was in order before making their next move. In the meantime they hadn’t been idle.

Vahlen, Shen, and everyone else was busy working on projects. ADVENT was working on expansion and other projects of their own. Aegis was making something of a media tour, and getting quite a bit of interest from across the world. The newer aliens in XCOM were integrating fairly well, and overall, the future was looking fairly stable.

His intercom beeped. “Yes?”

 _“Commander?”_ Jackson answered. _“We’ve got a…well, situation.”_

That lull now just might be ending. Wonderful, but it had to be sometime. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, since Jackson sounded more puzzled than concerned. “Describe it.”

 _“Message from ADVENT,”_ Jackson answered. _“There is a UFO that just landed in Montana. Sectoids. They apparently are being detained and want to talk to Aegis.”_

The Commander sat bolt upright. Now _that_ was a development he wasn’t expecting. In fact, he was extremely skeptical. “Is there a Hive Commander? Are you sure this isn’t a trap?”

 _“Sending images,”_ Jackson said, and they popped up on the Commander’s screen. _“They’ve got Priests on site, so they aren’t under psionic control. It isn’t a Hive Commander either, but twelve Sectoids, four of them Vanguards. I guess they’re smarter than we thought.”_

The Commander looked through the images. The Vanguards were unarmed, and ADVENT Forces were indeed on site. It looked to be a Fighter-class UFO, big enough that that number of Sectoids could easily fit in it. Well then. “They want to talk to Aegis? Did they say anything else?”

 _“One of them mentioned Hive Commander 088,”_ Jackson said. _“I checked it with our own records. No mention. But considering we only have information on a few Hive Commanders, I’m not surprised. Guess Aegis is even making waves in the GHC. Should I say we’re sending a team?”_

“Do it,” the Commander said, moving to open another channel. “I’ll instruct Patricia to put together a team to extract them. Send our thanks.”

_“Will do. Jackson out.”_

The Commander opened a channel. “Patricia, I need you to put together a squad. VIP Extraction; apparently ADVENT has some Sectoids that want to talk to Aegis.”

 _“You’re serious?”_ She sounded incredulous and he couldn’t blame her. _“Wow. Alright, a team will be ready shortly. Patricia out.”_

The Commander soon received confirmation of the squad, which wasn’t exactly the elite, but did include Creed and Carmelita in the event the Sectoids, for whatever reason, tried something. The rest were newer soldiers. This seriously felt too good to be true, it _had_ to be a trap somehow. But at the same time…maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe Aegis was having a much larger impact in the Collective than even they had assumed. The Sectoids wouldn’t attempt this for no reason. Something major was happening in the Collective to force this kind of event. Hopefully they would have some answers.

A short time later he received the acknowledgement that Big Sky had departed. Good. Hopefully they’d be back in a few hours with some little grey friends. They had every other alien species, but Sectoids…those were going to be interesting to figure out. The non-Vanguards would probably not be very functional, but he realized that they really didn’t know how independent Vanguards could be.

Clearly more than assumed, otherwise this Hive Commander would not have sent them. There was no chance that this was all done by independent Vanguards. No Hive Commander would allow that amount of autonomy.

His intercom beeped. Jackson. “Yes, Central?”

 _“Commander?”_ She answered. _“Hey, is there something I should be aware of? Big Sky just requested authorization to depart on your orders. There some mission I’m not aware of? I cleared it, just so you know, but I should be kept in the loop.”_

He frowned. “What are you talking about? The one with the Sectoids. ADVENT contacted you, remember.” He paused. “This was only about an hour ago. You can’t have forgotten.”

 _“Commander,”_ Jackson said slowly. _“I have no idea what you’re taking about. We haven’t got anything from ADVENT, much less anything with Sectoids.”_

The Commander felt ice spreading across his chest as he clicked on his computer, looking for the images Jackson had sent. Nothing. There wasn’t even anything she had sent; no indication that what he’d seen had even existed. “Jackson, recall Big Sky immediately. I think we’re under a telepathic attack.”

 _“Will do.”_ He waited anxiously for Jackson to report back. _“He’s not responding,”_ she finally said. _“It’s going through, but he isn’t answering. I don’t know what to do.”_

The Commander thought quickly; it had indeed turned out to be a trap. And one that some of his best soldiers were flying right towards. He didn’t know if sending more after them was the best solution. This had to be the Overmind or Imperator, and there was a good chance that they weren’t going to let any reinforcements interfere…with whatever they had planned.

Well, there was potentially one. “Jackson,” he ordered urgently. “Get in contact with Aegis and send him to the coordinates of the Skyranger.”

There was a brief pause at the other end. _“I’m sorry Commander, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”_

Fuck.

He _could_ repeat himself, but it was apparent that this was not going to work. They were still under psionic attack, and for all he knew, he was already influenced as well. Only one way to find out. He had the capability to call Aegis, but it would take some time. He moved his hand to begin the process…

And…his hand wouldn’t move.

“Not this time, Commander.” He looked up to see a copy of himself leaning against the wall of his office. The only difference was that the eyes were pools of black, and the voice was not his. It was the first time he had heard the Imperator speak; a rich, deep baritone that commanded complete respect. The doppelganger smiled at him. “You’ve caused some difficulty for me. I believe this time I will return the favor.”

“What are you doing?” He demanded, frustratingly able to move but not actually put his hand close to the computer. He didn’t even _feel_ the Imperator in his mind.

“I am going to make Patricia an offer,” he stated, still smiling. “It is time she knew some things. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to force an extended visit. Depending on how things go, you will see her shortly. But you have so far managed to acquire two Ethereals who used to work with me. I only think it fair that I offer some of your soldiers the same opportunity.”

“She won’t join you,” the Commander said, knowing what he was implying. “You’ll have to force her. And even then she will resist.”

“We shall see, Commander,” the Imperator gave a wave. “I am quite looking forward to seeing which of us is right.”

And he vanished, leaving the Commander alone and helpless.

***

_Rural Montana_

_12/10/2016 – 9:44 P.M._

Something seemed wrong about this. The UFO she saw ahead, but otherwise there was nothing. She sensed…something ahead, something powerful. Definitely a psion, but there were no ADVENT soldiers around, nor any Sectoids for that matter. She didn’t see any physical evidence that there _had_ been any in the first place.

No tire marks, gasoline smell, or any indication that this place had once been occupied.

“This is definitely a trap,” Creed stated without any ambiguity. “The UFO is here…but literally nothing else.”

“There’s also a psion ahead,” Patricia pointed, trying to extend her psionic reach and hitting the equivalent of a brick wall. “Gah, a powerful one too.” She paused. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. It might be a good idea to retreat until we know. We should ask the Commander.”

She froze as she felt the barrel of a gun pointing into her back. “Please move forward, Psion Trask,” Carmelita said, her voice more monotone than usual. She turned around to see that the _entire_ squad was either pointing weapons at each other…or themselves. Creed had his pistol placed under his chin, looking directly at her.

Fear clawed over her as she realized what was going on. And who was likely to be inside that UFO. She swallowed, and walked forward, the entourage of mind-controlled soldiers following behind her. Yet she felt exactly nothing directed at her, and she hadn’t even noticed that an attack was even _happening_.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

They walked forward on the grasslands until they were directly in front of the UFO. The entrance shimmered and the protective field dissipated before them. Out stepped an Ethereal in a single flowing orange robe; arms hidden within and the face obscured, the only thing visible being two bright orange orbs.

_Patricia Trask._

The voice appeared in her mind, scratchy and rasping as if it hadn’t spoken in years.

“Overmind,” she answered, feeling it was her only acceptable response. “Why are you here?”

_I am here on the orders of the Imperator. I am here to give you a choice._

“A choice?” She looked around at her mind controlled soldiers; who had ended pointing their weapons at each other and were prepared to commit suicide if the command came. Some held grenades up, others had pistols to their heads. “I don’t see one here.”

_There is no choice without stakes. A choice is not real without equally valid choices. There is no false choice here, Patricia Trask. You will decide who will live or die this day. You will chose who will go free or who will be sacrificed._

One hand extended from the robe and motioned to the soldiers. _Your first choice: You surrender to me, and your soldiers will live. Your friends will live. Your lover will live. You will come with me before the Imperator where you will make your second choice, of which I am not aware of the details._

Another hand appeared, with a spindly finger pointing to her. _Or you refuse. Everyone around you will die. But you will be free. Free to return to the Commander. Free to return to Aegis. The Imperator will not speak to you again, nor provide assistance. You will never face this choice again._

Patricia swallowed. Of course the Imperator would give a choice like this.

And of course, she absolutely believed him.

Ironic. She could actually be free of him, and all it would cost her were eight soldiers. She looked back to Carmelita and Creed.

One of which happened to be her friend. The other her lover. And five other well-trained and meaning soldiers. Innocents who didn’t deserve to be caught up in the mess she had placed them into. All of this was _her_ fault, if she hadn’t listened to the Imperator, maybe this wouldn’t be happening. Could she really justify killing even the ones she wasn’t attached to just to be free of the Imperator?

Much less the ones she _was_?

Yet if she surrendered…she didn’t know what would happen. The Imperator’s plan for her…whatever that was…it would either fail or succeed. Either way, she got the feeling that if she surrendered to the Overmind, she would never be coming back.

“And what if I just stay here, doing nothing?” She asked.

_Your body will fail eventually. You will sleep. I will not._

Concise and to the point. And all this time she imagined that they were using their telepathy to keep help far, far away. And while the Overmind hadn’t mentioned killing soldiers to make a point, she knew that was also likely.

_Have you made your choice?_

Her shoulders slumped. It was a choice. But one where she knew she was condemning herself. She looked at Creed. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “But I won’t let you die for my mistakes. None of you.”

In the end, this was her fault. Her responsibility. She deserved to face whatever the consequences were, even if this was likely what the Imperator wanted. She looked to the Overmind. “I surrender to you.”

The Ethereal gestured and all the soldiers crumpled to the ground. _They are unconscious. They will be recovered by your brethren. Follow me._ He turned and entered the UFO. Patricia slowly and robotically followed, everything seeming surreal as she stepped inside the shining UFO.

 _Sleep now, Patricia Trask,_ The Overmind communicated as he stepped up to the piloting controls. _And do not fear. You will not be harmed._

She didn’t fear pain. She feared something worse.

But before she could think about what that could be, she drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

END OF ACT II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And half a million words later I finally wrap up Act II. Sorry about the cliffhanger, really, but you'll see her again in five or so chapters where it'll be explained what happens with her. Hope you understand.
> 
> Nah, I'd hate anyone who does that. Next chapter will pick up right after this with a (probably) long-awaited meeting between Patricia and the Imperator. It will be an illuminating one, I think. The good news is that it's actually all written and is going through the editing process now. It's short (For me), so I am hoping it will be ready to post within the week. No guarentees though, fair warning.
> 
> As for some of what Act III is going to entail, it's going to not be quite as action-packed as the previous two. This is a lull in the conflict where all sides are going to reform, improve, and expand. There will be more focus on what Volk is doing, the SAS, and internal Collective affairs. That isn't to say there won't be any action, but it won't really be the battles I've done so far. And after a 4-chapter long battle, I think it's good to have a somewhat slower pace. This is one of the acts that will have the most major ramifications so far, so keep that in mind.
> 
> Aside from that, I did also want to mention that this series does have a TvTropes page, which is unfortunately extremely out of date. Any additions that could be made to it would be greatly appreciated. The last thing to mention is that as I'm graduating college very soon, I'll probably be going through some kind of transitional period over the later months. This may or may not affect writing speed/posting, but it is something to keep in mind.
> 
> Thank you for all the reviews, messages, and feedback. I will do my best to keep improving at a quality all of you expect.
> 
> \- Xabiar


	33. The Imperator

ACT III – ESCALATION

***

 

_Unknown Location_

_Unknown Time_

It was the low humming; just residing on the edges of her hearing that awakened her.

Her mind was initially groggy – until she remembered everything that had happened.

Adrenaline shot through her body and Patricia bolted upright, frantically looking around and telepathically probing the area around her. She stayed that way for a few moments, her chest rising and falling as she worked to calm herself. This was still real; it hadn’t been something in her mind. The Overmind; the UFO; her surrender; it was still real.

_Fuck._

She rubbed her eyes, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed to rest her feet on metal floor that felt oddly warm under her soles. The room she was in was almost a perfect square, with the bed she was laying on being against one of the sides; opposite her was an opening currently protected by one of the alien multicolored shields. Peering closer at it, she also saw that there was indeed a solid door between the room and whatever was outside.

So she either had privacy, or she was a prisoner.

She stood and cautiously walked over to the door, and a black interface built into the wall formed into a purple hologram with the Ethereal glyph for ‘close’ on it. Or at least she was fairly sure that it was; she hadn’t picked up as much on Ethereal Script as the Commander, though he’d had that knowledge burned into his mind. She placed a hand over it, and allowed some psionic energy to be released. The glyph changed and the door slid up soundlessly.

So she technically wasn’t trapped. It was something, she supposed.

Quickly reversing it, she took a moment to look around at the rest of the room. The walls looked exceptionally odd to her; black, but almost transparent in a way. They seemed to be segmented into the wall; squares, circles, and other shapes’ just faint outlines adorning them. Furrowing her eyebrows, she walked over to one of the walls to take a closer look.

Notably, it actually seemed to be glass, or some other transparent material that overlaid the black metal walls. That would explain it, though it didn’t explain why it was even there in the first place. Some of the shapes didn’t seem to be flush, especially with odder shapes, so she tried prying it with one of her fingers.

To her surprise, the piece popped out with ease and she stood with a small cube in her palm. She brought it up to her eye, trying to see if there was something special about it, but she couldn’t see anything other than a small transparent cube. She slowly moved the piece back over to where it had been attached, and sure enough, once it was close, it was pulled back into its original place, like a magnet.

Hmm. Was it supposed to be some kind of Ethereal art? She couldn’t see any other practical purpose for that kind of design. It extended as far as she could see; every wall and even the ceilings were designed in that way. The ceiling itself was high and sloped, but definitely not angular. She also realized at that point there was no obvious light source, but everything could be seen clearly.

There was a slight purple tint to everything, so perhaps there was a kind of psionic lighting that was worked into the room in some way? It ultimately wasn’t important; what she needed to do now was figure out what to do next. Unfortunately, she suspected her options were going to be limited. Someone was going to check on her soon, and she doubted escape was going to be possible.

As she thought that, she looked around for any cameras or security devices. Nothing was spotted along the smooth walls. Of course not. They didn’t need to resort to that when she was a powerful psion, and they could likely manufacture nanotech that she couldn’t see with the naked eye. They wouldn’t have painfully obvious security cameras.

Speaking of her having a powerful psionic signature, she was _definitely_ not the only one. There were at least four, and another which dwarfed all of them. She felt it even without trying. The Imperator, it had to be.

With her survey of the walls complete, she looked at the rest of what resided in the room. On the wall to the right of her bed there appeared to be a…sink of some kind, and the corner had very specific tiling on it. She walked over towards the corner, and another psionic switch appeared, this time with a glyph she didn’t recognize instinctively, but had seen in conjunction with other glyphs. It was either _wet_ or _water_.

She flicked it on and started as transparent fields appeared around and within the corner. Water also fell from openings in the ceiling and she watched as the water began circulating through what she supposed were anti-grav fields of some kind. Their version of a shower? She cautiously stuck her hand in it, and felt no resistance as warm water soon ran over it before landing on the ground in slow motion.

Neat.

She didn’t have the urge to take a shower right now, especially when there was a good chance that someone was watching her. Given that the Imperator had presumably watched her and Creed have sex, she wouldn’t have put it past him to watch her take a shower.

Sadness washed over her at that. Creed…he wasn’t going to take what had happened well. He was alive, but both of them knew that they probably wouldn’t see each other again. She did take some solace in the fact that he was probably already planning a rescue, because that was about all he _could_ do right now.

She was going to have to be very careful if she wanted to get out of this alive.

Out of curiosity she went to the sink to see if it worked the same way. The same symbol from the shower appeared once more and she flicked it on. The black metal shaped into a bowl hummed and the rim of it shimmered in an anti-grav field. A small but steady stream of water shot into the bowl and acted much like the shower had; slowly falling into the drain. She stuck her hands in, and had to admit that the sensation was strange, but not unpleasant.

She could manipulate that globs of water around, and it didn’t so much splash as mold to her hand when it hit. It was almost fun to reach for a stream of water that was falling and literally lift it back up before it fell back down. As she withdrew her hands from the field, she noticed that they were completely dry when she pulled them out. The field must not have let any excess water leave.

It was rather fancy for such a mundane purpose, but maybe it was normal for Ethereals.

Patricia decided to now turn to what she was probably supposed to have gone to first, and that was the table that held some clothing on it, and on the one right next to it lay her armor. While she was at it, she stepped in front of the nearby mirror to see how she looked.

All things considered, it could have been worse.

She was in a short-sleeve grey shirt-like clothing, with matching pants and nothing on her feet. The material at least felt nice, and her hair and skin looked…normal. Which meant that at some point they’d probably stuck her in one of those showers to get cleaned up. She grimaced at that, but that was honestly not too unexpected. For all she knew it could have been weeks since she was taken.

Patricia turned towards the tables and first moved to inspect her armor. She wasn’t sure if it was a taunt or not, since they wouldn’t offer this unless it would be of no use to her. But from what she could tell, it was definitely her armor, scratches and all. It had definitely been cleaned up, since there was no dirt or mud on the boots or leg armor, and the pieces had a dull sheen to them.

The undersuit had also clearly been washed, and laid alongside the armor pieces. Everything seemed present and intact, including her helmet. Even the XCOM symbol was still displayed on the chest, as well as the flag of Britain. It was nice of them to leave it intact for her, so she had to give them some credit.

She moved over to the second table which had attire that was probably more appropriate for the situation. The closest thing she could compare it to was a dress uniform. All the pieces were white, with complex gold embroidery throughout it weaved into some objectively beautiful patterns. She picked up the main piece, a long-sleeved garment with the gold embroidery leading to the golden outline of an Ethereal – almost comparable to a stick figure.

The material was exceptionally soft, more so than anything she had ever felt before. She unfortunately couldn’t begin to guess what it was, but she at least wanted to wear it at some point. Accompanying the main torso piece were pants, socks, a pair of similarly white and low boots, and gloves.

The other final part was a cape-like piece of material that was designed in such a way that she would have to place her arms through the respective openings, and then hook it into the main torso piece. The color scheme was inverse of the main uniform; golden with white embroidery that simply formed a larger Ethereal symbol like the one on the chest.

She really did not know what the point of it was. It was more akin to something like what royalty would wear, not military leaders or people going into combat. True, it certainly looked impressive, but it still seemed too ornate for casually wearing around.

With that said, she did have to at least see how it felt.

It took her a few minutes to take off what she was currently wearing, and then get into the white uniform provided. Even as she was putting it on she had to admit that she definitely hadn’t worn anything more comfortable. She didn’t feel warmer than usual either, and her hands didn’t feel sweaty in the gloves yet, which was a welcome surprise.

The cape thing wasn’t hard to put on either, and after walking around some, it actually didn’t seem to really interfere in her movement. It reached down to just above her boots, slightly below her knees. Fairly standard, but she doubted she would notice it was there unless she was moving very fast, and even then she would want to be sure.

She stepped in front of the mirror to see how she looked.

Honestly, she thought it fit her very well. She looked like she stepped off the set of a Disney movie, but that was certainly not a bad comparison. While unnecessarily ornate, it did look good on her. If she could lose the quite blatant Ethereal symbol in the chest, she might actually consider wearing it like the Imperator clearly wanted her to.

Sadly, she wasn’t a princess. She was a soldier, and when she met the Imperator it would be in her armor.

She then, with some regret, stripped out of the uniform and fell back into the familiar process of donning her armor. It was more difficult without help, but doable. It wasn’t like she was pressed for time. At least in her armor she felt some sense of protection and durability. That uniform was comfortable, but soft.

Once donned, she flipped the helmet in her hands, wondering what to do next. It could be hours until she received someone, or they might show in a few minutes. She obviously had the ability to leave her room, so was she expected to just start wandering around?

That did not seem like a good idea. If the Imperator wanted to speak to her, she wasn’t going to waste her time possibly wandering to her death. Not that she felt that was an actual concern; the Imperator had probably issued standing orders to not harm her. And with at least some very powerful psions nearby, she could probably be subdued if she decided to be unruly.

She didn’t really plan to be that way. Violence was going to do nothing except worsen her situation.

Patricia waited there for some time, just thinking about her situation and all the possible ways this could go. The Imperator was almost certainly going to try and convince her of something, and she didn’t necessarily believe it was going to be as simple as “Join me or die.” That wouldn’t fit with how he’d operated so far. Going so far as to abduct her was surprising, and _did_ indicate that something had happened to make him take such a drastic step.

It was probably going to come down to a choice, or series of choices. He seemed to like that. Even something as simple as choosing what she was going to wear was definitely some kind of choice, though maybe one with meanings not as obvious as it seemed. Context changed, and logical arguments could be used for wearing whatever she wanted.

Maybe she was overthinking it.

A knock distracted her. She glanced up to the door and narrowed her eyes. There was a psion on the other side; a powerful one, judging from the light probing she’d just done. No penetration, and they had extremely powerful defenses. “Come in.” She didn’t know if the door could even be opened from the other side, but figured that they would have overrides anyway.

She was expecting an Ethereal to walk through, probably one of the Guardians or if she was unlucky, the Overmind.

The shield dissipated and door slid aside, and to her surprise a Human walked through.

Patricia blinked in shock as she took in the man before her. Although ‘man’ may have been generous because the Human before her looked… _young_. He _couldn’t_ have been any older than twenty, if that. His Hispanic features narrowed down where he could be from, but she knew that looking at the eyes would give her more than his young features would. And the brown eyes of this man were…weary. An odd look for someone like him.

He still gave a brief smile; he likely knew what was going through her head. “Not what you expected?”

The man was wearing a uniform that was very similar to the one she had just rejected. The differences were that this one was black with silver lining, and there were far fewer complex patterns. His cape had no pattern, and also seemed to include a hood that was currently put down. A knife was also strapped to his waist that didn’t seem to fit with the rest of his outfit.

“I wasn’t expecting another Human,” she said, standing. “Much less one who appears to be…free.”

He seemed amused at that, and based on his thicker accent assumed that he was from Mexico and not the United States. “Depends on what you define that as. I can wander around here without problems, but I’m not fool enough to try and leave without letting one of the Ethereals know.”

“Right.” Patricia cocked her head. “And just where are we?”

“I can’t give you the exact position,” the man answered. “The Imperator likes to keep it moving. But you are now on the Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective.”

Aegis had spoken of the Temple Ship, but not many details aside from that it was where the Imperator resided. “I see.”

“I doubt it,” he shrugged. “I didn’t get the name either. But it makes sense to them. It would be more accurate to call it a _Shrine_ or _Reflection._ You’ll see when you walk through the ship.”

“Who _are_ you?”

“Ah, right,” he nodded, smiling in self-deprecation. “Sorry about that. Nico Murillo, current…” he paused. “…Resident of the Temple Ship. Maybe _Ward_ is a better word.”

She didn’t recognize the name, but honestly had not expected to. “And were you paid a visit by the Overmind?”

He grew more somber at that. “No, I came of my own volition. An offer was made, and I took it.”

Patricia wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “You abandoned Earth? Willingly?”

He sighed at that. “Miss Trask, if you really want to you can hear my life story later. Suffice to say that there is nothing left on Earth for me. And when I say that, I mean it literally. ADVENT was responsible for destroying my family, and the cartels finished the job. I’d prefer not to focus on that right now.”

That…would probably do it. She just gave a nod. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Everyone is,” he dismissed with a wave. “But that isn’t why you’re here at this moment.”

“You either,” she pointed out. “Did the Imperator send you to get me?”

“Sicarius did,” he clarified. “I imagine the Imperator told her, yes. I assume they felt it would be better for you to be greeted by me than the Guardians. Under the assumption that you won’t do anything foolish, of course.”

“No point in it,” Patricia agreed. “I don’t suppose you know why the Imperator wants me?”

“No,” Nico shook his head. “But I do know that you are an important part of his plans. There were debates on when to bring you to him, and I presume that…recent events made him take action. Aegis very nearly caused a rebellion in the Collective, and even now the Battlemaster is trying to repair the damage.”

“And has my capture been revealed?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Nico answered. “Nothing official from ADVENT or XCOM. I doubt they’d want news that their most public psion had been abducted to be spread.”

Not surprising. Patricia set her lips in a thin line. “Very well. No point wasting time, I suppose. Let’s go talk to the Imperator.”

Nico turned on his heel and motioned her to follow. “This way.”

***

_Crew Quarters - The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_Unknown Time_

They stepped outside her doorway and Patricia once again started in surprise. Directly outside her room were two Mutons. These were surprisingly small, barely taller than her, and there were some clear physical differences between them and standard Mutons. The most obvious was that they were much smaller and slimmer.

They wore pitch black heavy armor, segmented and seemingly powered by an armored elerium core on the upper back. Their wrists held additional weapons; one had what looked like a wrist-mounted plasma weapon, and the other had what looked like a retractable blade. In their hands they held what she presumed were plasma weapons, but were made from black alloys and had no exposed cores. White Plasma weapons, perhaps? They were used by the Phantom Division, and she doubted the Imperator would skimp on the equipment of his own personal army.

Their helmets were extremely similar to the ones she’d seen on the Muton Centurions they had encountered several times; an armored helmet that covered the entirety of the head, with the eyes lit a purple color. But what stood out to her a few moments after starting at them was that…she couldn’t touch their minds. At all.

To be more specific…she could locate their minds, but actually attempting to penetrate them was a nigh-impossible task. It was as if someone had encrypted their minds; making them impossible to comprehend, and as a result, manipulate. Nico noticed her looked at them. “Miss Trask, may I introduce you to the Praetorian Guard of the Imperator.”

“Welcome, honored guest of the Imperator,” the leftmost Praetorian stated, nodding his head towards her. “It is good that you are awake.”

She blinked. “You talk?” She knew the Sargons were capable of complex speech, and their voices sounded fairly normal, if deep, but she’d never heard of any other type being able to independently talk.

“Yes, we have an increased mental capacity compared to our lesser brethren,” the second Praetorian explained without malice. “We expect this is a surprise. Our kind are not like the others of our species; we are their future under the Imperator.”

“I don’t know the full details,” Nico said, walking up to her. “But the Praetorian Guard is known to most of the Collective. However, most believe that they are the result of the Sargon and Elite units, or at least a more powerful Elite. That, from what I understand, isn’t true.” He waved a gloved hand to the Mutons. “The Praetorians were the first. The Sargons and Elites were offshoots of the Praetorian project. The Ethereals have mastered the Muton genome; anything you hear that indicates otherwise is either disinformation or propaganda.”

That was actually major news. But if that were true… “Then why is he using downgrades?” She wondered out loud. “Why not just use Praetorians exclusively? Hell, even Elites or Sargons would be fine.”

Nico began walking down the hallway and she joined him, while the two Praetorians followed a short distance behind them. “I’ve wondered that myself,” Nico admitted. “I suspect it has to do with time and cost. Praetorians are not cheap or easy to grow. Still, the Ethereals are not strapped for resources. Perhaps you can ask him that.”

“I’ll do that,” she muttered, glancing behind them. “From what Aegis said, I thought they’d be taller.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nico grinned. “You haven’t seen the big ones yet. Revelean specifically made their size modifiable, largely because, while a massive Battlemaster-size unit is intimidating and powerful, it is not useful in small or confined spaces. Versatility is key in the Praetorian Guard.”

Already she was working out how this was going to affect the war. These appeared to be the future the Imperator was moving towards, and Mutons with the intellectual capabilities of a Sargon were something Humanity was not prepared for. They would adapt, as they always did, but this would be a more difficult challenge to overcome.

“What’s wrong with their minds?” She asked. “I mean, you are-“

“A telepath, yes,” he acknowledged. “I don’t know, honestly. I think it’s a kind of mental conditioning. I don’t know for sure though, I’ve never felt anything like their minds. Neither have you, I guess.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s like the brain was encrypted.”

“That…is a better analogy than what I always compared it to,” Nico said slowly.

“And what was that?”

He gave an embarrassed shrug. “A pile of shredded paper.”

Patricia almost chuckled at that. Nico motioned ahead. “Here we are; the next room has the reason why they call this the Temple Ship.” They stepped into a rectangular room filled with holographic terminals, stands, and pedestals filled with various things. But what immediately caught her attention was the walls and ceiling.

“Wow.”

The entire room was a cross between a mural and stained glass art. She now knew what the transparent cubes on the ships walls were for. Depicted on the walls was some kind of battle, with two sides. One half of the room was a battle on the grounds of some planet, and the other side was depicting the battle in space.

In the center of the ceiling, where both sides met, was an ornate Ethereal that she presumed was the Imperator. He was larger than everything else, and outlined in purple and white as an almost god-like figure. The arms were stretched to the enemies depicted; Director Flagships in space and the hordes of Synthesized on the ground, all of whom were either destroyed or dying.

The entire piece of art was stunning. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Nico nodded. “And this isn’t the only one on this ship. Right now you are also standing in the Archives of History, one of the many areas of the Temple Ship maintained by-“ He blinked. “Well, I suppose he is here now.”

Patricia turned to see an Ethereal she didn’t recognize approach. Compared to most Ethereals he dressed deceptively simple. All he wore was a grey robe with orange highlights, almost directly comparable to the Overmind’s. However, he had no hood and didn’t bother to obscure his face at all. His glowing orange eyes seemed brighter compared to the admittedly few Ethereals she’d seen unmasked.

“Miss Trask, this is Archivist Cogitian, of the Ethereal Collective,” Nico introduced. “And responsible for the art you see before you.”

“The First of the Awakened Humans,” he said in near awe, his voice sounding more energetic than most Ethereals she listened to, who seemed to prefer more methodical speech patterns. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Putting the unfortunate circumstances to the side, I am pleased you are here with us now.”

Patricia crossed her arms while narrowing her eyes. “I don’t plan on staying, if I can help it. No offense.”

“I suppose you cannot be blamed for that.” Cogitian tapped a spindly finger to his neck. “Regardless, should you leave I would wish the opportunity to speak to you. Our records on your species would not be fully complete without the input of the first Human Psion.”

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally. “So…you’re the record keeper?”

She sensed some exasperation coming from the Ethereal at that. “If you want to use such a…limiting term. I am a record keeper, historian, storyteller, and artist all at the same time. I record the stories of the Andromedons, Sectoids, Vitakara, Mutons, Ethereals, and even your own species. No matter what the galaxy has in store, it will be a lesser place if the stories of these species were to never be observed, recorded, and completed.”

His goals sounded similar to those of EXALT’s Chronicler, though now that they knew he was working for a Sovereign One, that wasn’t too comforting. As far as Ethereals went, he seemed more…benign, which was largely how Aegis had described him. Cogitian fulfilled a specific purpose for the Imperator, even if he didn’t necessarily agree.

He was apparently one of the older Ethereals as well, not nearly as old as the Overmind, but maybe second in age. While she was here, she might as well see what his answer to one of her questions was. “Why is this called the Temple Ship? As far as I know Ethereals aren’t religious.”

Cogitian actually laughed. “Oh, they most certainly were.” He paused. “Well, not as you Humans define religion, but any Ethereal who insists that we completely rejected the concept of higher powers is either ignorant, or wishes to fit history to their views. It is a long and complicated subject, suffice to say that-“

He looked towards them. “Right, the Temple Ship. That is the closest translation to your own language. One thing for you to understand about the Temple Ships is that they were _not_ used primarily for…combat.” He said the word with some disgust. “Yes, they were in the War, but they were ships of prestige and command, only given to the most acclaimed of the Empire. They are monuments to their lives and achievements.” He pointed with one hand above. “And so I continue the tradition in my own way. I tell the story and life of the Imperator, and will continue to do so until the end of time, or he perishes.”

He glanced around the room. “However, this particular Temple Ship has needed to adapt for the times. It holds more than the story of the Imperator, but the last remaining histories of the Ethereal Empire and the Synthesized War. There is much that is irreplaceable here…ah, if you wish I could certainly share, but I suspect that you need to move on. The Imperator certainly wishes to speak to you, after all.”

Nico gave a short bow. “Your time is appreciated, Archivist. I hope both of us will be able to speak again soon.”

“Good luck,” Patricia simply said. “I hope you preserve this knowledge. Regardless of which side we fall on, forgetting it benefits no one.”

“Indeed,” Cogitian agreed. “A sadly controversial topic among some circles.”

With that, Patricia followed Nico into another hallway, with their Praetorian guards following close behind. “Interesting alien,” Patricia commented. “Aegis seemed to be right about him.”

“He definitely is,” Nico said wistfully. “Talking to him is like…having every secret of the galaxy just readily available. The Temple Ship is the only place where there are no secrets, no classifications, just knowledge. Some of what Sicarius has pointed out to me is…disturbing in its implications.” He shook his head. “The galaxy is inherently bent towards war. Everything I have seen shows that. And I thought Humans were violent…” he gave a sad chuckle.

Patricia felt he was trying to make a point, but she wasn’t sure what it could be. “Violence is sometimes that quickest path to results. It’s a part of life. I’d be surprised if other species didn’t have violent streaks.”

“Mmm,” Nico seemed like he was going to say more, but then motioned ahead. “Well, something to discuss later. Assuming you’re still around. You wanted to see one of the bigger Praetorians, right? There are a couple stationed in the Grand Commons.”

They stepped into one of the largest parts of the Temple Ship so far; a massive area with an arched ceiling that reminded her of an arena. Interspersed throughout the area were tables and benches, with some alien plant life spread around. Stairs led to an upper floor, and at the top of the stairs were the largest Mutons she had ever seen.

They were at least as tall as the Battlemaster, and much, much thicker. Their armor was probably thicker than some tanks, and their weapons would be hard to fit on aircraft. Appearance-wise they looked identical to their smaller Praetorian brothers, just scaled up to an absurd size. These made Elites look small by comparison.

XCOM would have trouble taking that down, and a quick probe confirmed their minds were similarly scrambled.

“Are they smart too?” She asked.

“Yes,” Nico confirmed, scratching his chin. “Arguably more so since their brains are bigger. The Imperator has envisioned them as the commanders in a ground force because of this. They are also the ones who speak most to Cogitian, make of that what you will.”

The thought of a Muton of any kind holding a meaningful conversation with anyone was an utterly alien concept. There were so many questions as to what the Imperator, or Ethereals in general, were really thinking. They weren’t idiots, that much was clear, but they seemed to have very little clue how to actually make decisions that made sense, leverage their advantages, or provide any kind of leadership.

How could a species so advanced be so incredibly mismanaged?

Or was it intentional and part of a plan she couldn’t see?

“Patricia Trask.”

She turned around to see both of the Guardians walking towards her. While they didn’t look like they were about to attack her, she didn’t fail to notice that at least one of their hands were resting on their Sabers. They were prepared if she did anything, and could imagine why they were here at all. “Hello,” she sighed. “I want you to know I’m not here because I want to be.”

“Your circumstances are known to us,” the First Guardian stated. “We are not concerned about you. You have no power in the Temple Ship of the Imperator.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Really.”

She was moderately tempted to test that, but figured that wouldn’t go over well. Instead, she crossed her arms. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to cause trouble. I doubt I would be able to do anything anyway. Besides, dying is not something I plan on doing here.”

The Second Guardian seemed to appraise her. “You are calm for one in the seat of the most powerful being in the Collective.”

“And what good is fear going to do me?” She asked, sighing. “Think. If the Imperator wanted to kill me, I wouldn’t be here, would I? And since he wanted to talk, and seems to like talking with me anyway, he’s probably more interested in getting my cooperation than coercing me through…well, anything else. Take your pick.”

Nico frowned. “Wait, you’ve spoken with the Imperator? Before this?”

“Oh yeah,” she glanced over at him. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you this?”

“Not to me,” Nico said slowly. “In which case…some things make sense.”

“You are dismissed, Human of Sicarius,” the First Guardian stated towards Nico, stepping forward. “We will escort Patricia to the Imperator.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I really wish you wouldn’t call me that. I’m not her slave.”

Patricia did have to admire the nerve of doing that in front of _any_ Ethereal, much less the Guardians. “I would prefer he accompany us,” she said. “He’s been a useful guide.”

“You do not have authority to make such a decision,” the Seconds Guardian said slowly. “You tread thinly. As do you, Human of Sicarius.”

“And what are you going to do?” Nico asked. “Kill me? Or her?” He nodded towards Patricia. “Accompany-“ He suddenly stopped speaking, moving a gloved hand to his throat as he realized what was happening. Patricia wasn’t sure if she should intervene or not. Not that she necessarily _wanted_ to choose a side, but at least Nico had been cordial to her.

She narrowed her eyes and concentrated towards the Second Guardian and sent the equivalent of a tidal wave of telepathic attacks towards her. They didn’t penetrate, but they did disrupt her. “You will regret this, Trask,” she growled as the orange-yellow of her Saber appeared, while Nico collapsed to the ground. “The Imperator will understand if your wings are clipped.”

Patricia stepped back, though noticed the First Guardian not making any move. “Enough,” he said. “This bickering is beneath us. You should not have done that.” Patricia sensed that the words were not directed to her, but the Second Guardian.

The Guardian Saber flew out of her hand, deactivating and landed in the outstretched palm of another Ethereal that Patricia had only heard of. “You are dismissed in the name of the Imperator,” Sicarius stated, her voice melodical, but flat and lacking the layers of Ethereal speech. The thing that stood out about Sicarius was that she was much smaller than the average Ethereal, barely over six feet. Her featureless orb of a helmet was also eye-catching.

She knelt down and helped a recovering Nico rise to his feet. “He is disappointed with you, Second Guardian,” Sicarius growled, flicking the Saber back to the Guardian. “Should you touch him again, there will be consequences. Go.”

The Guardians quickly departed, with the Second Guardian clearly embarrassed at the incident. Not knowing what else to do, she walked over to the pair. “You attempted to help him,” Sicarius said, turning her eyeless helm to her own face. “Why?”

“What she did was not deserved,” Patricia shrugged. “He has been helpful to me, and as pleasant as you can be here. What the Second Guardian did was an abuse of her power.”

“I didn’t expect she’d do that,” Nico wheezed. “I knew she didn’t really like me, but that’s new. But thanks, Miss Trask.”

“Just Patricia,” she said, looking to the small Ethereal. “I guess you’ll be the one taking me to the Imperator? I do think it’d be best to get this done before I end up in the middle of another fight.”

“Yes, I will take you to him,” Sicarius confirmed, checking to make sure Nico was alright. “Are you recovered, Nico?”

“Well enough,” he said, coughing. “Let’s go.”

***

_The Throne Room of the Imperator – The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_Unknown Time_

Patricia felt the Imperator the closer they got to him. It was an intense rapture that seemed to make everything crisper, charged; it was an aura that was both empowering and terrifying in its intensity. She actually had to strengthen her telepathic barriers to prevent herself from just stopping and basking in the feeling, which would likely make her look like an idiot.

“You get used to it eventually,” Nico commented without looking at her. “But it never becomes stale, if you know what I mean.”

She just nodded, as they reached a flight of stairs that led to an oversized door that was at least twenty feet tall. “He is within the Throne Room,” Sicarius said quietly. “Go forth. He will speak to you in there. We are not required.”

Patricia looked at the foreboding door ahead and steeled herself for whatever was going to happen. “Alright then.” She glanced behind her. “Thank you, Nico. In case I don’t see you again.” He gave her an acknowledging nod, and she began moving up the stairs until she was in front of the door, which slid aside the closer she got.

She couldn’t see too well what was inside, but the moment she stepped through, the door closed behind her. Patricia stood there for a few moments to take in the so-called “Throne Room”. To her, it immediately struck her as a flat, empty room. The floors were the same obsidian metal and extended incredibly far. The entire room seemed to be about the size of a stadium.

She looked up to see the ceiling which extended far above her, showing the stars. She could tell that it was a video projection and not glass, given the various unnatural angles on it, but it was still a striking sight, and then she also noticed that it extended down the walls as well. Almost as if she was standing in space itself.

Ethereals knew how to design ships that left an impression, she couldn’t deny that.

“Welcome, Patricia Trask.”

The voice was that of the Imperator, but with the full power and authority behind it that telepathic projections could simply not convey accurately. In the distance she saw an elevated platform with stairs all around it, supporting a chair that a massive Ethereal was sitting on. Yet the voice seemed to come from all around her; each syllable an unconscious telepathic command that was already pushing against her defenses. It was deep, haunting, commanding, and impossible to forget.

She walked forward.

The closer she got, the clearer the Ethereal became. Once she reached a certain distance, the Imperator raised a hand, and she unconsciously stopped. The Imperator then rose from his throne, and slowly descended down the massive steps. Once on the ground opposite her, she got her first true look at the Imperator.

Everything about him was tailored to maximize his command and awe. His size dwarfed that of the Battlemaster; he must have been close to fifteen feet high, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. He wore glistening silver armor, with golden patterns and ornate glyphs sculpted into the armor itself. His helm took a more upside-down triangular design, with the thin eye slits giving off a warm orange glow. A golden cape fell from his shoulders, just falling to the ankles of his armored boots.

His lower two hands were clasped behind his back, while the upper two were hanging idly by his sides. He appeared to have no weapons attached to his belt, but with how powerful he was, she didn’t think he needed any. She tried taking a closer look at the patterns on his armor, and was quite surprised to see what looked like a Director Flagship, and almost a perfect replica of the emblem Abby had described on the Chronicler’s armor.

They looked disturbingly similar.

Why would he have both of those symbols?

“Greetings, Imperator,” she said, her voice sounding flat and empty compared to his. “Not exactly how I imagined we’d meet in person, but I suppose you wanted to avoid a fight.”

“There is a very limited number of those who could challenge me and live,” the Imperator rumbled. “Humans are not one of them.”

“I suspect we’ll find out one way or another eventually,” Patricia crossed her arms. “I suppose you have a good reason for abducting me?”

“Indeed,” the Imperator said, motioning with one of his hands to follow him. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” Patricia followed him as they climbed the steps to his throne, each step nearly coming up to her knees. At the top Patricia could see nearly the entire room, and it was a nice view. “I do not have this for show,” the Imperator continued, sitting down. “I designed it for a purpose.”

He pushed something on his throne and the room flashed as holograms formed throughout the room, coalescing into a rough approximation of the Milky Way. “The scale of the galaxy is difficult to comprehend in the abstract,” the Imperator said, motioning outward. “Even this only slightly rectified the problem, but it serves as an important means of visualization. It allows planning, exploration, and observation.

The mass of stars dissipated, only to reform into a much smaller section of the galaxy, a few hundred stars it looked like, and it was broken into various chunks, outlined by yellow, white, and blue. “This is the current territory of the Ethereal Collective,” he explained. “With the respective control that the Andromedon Federation, Greater Hive Commanders, and Aui’Vitakar have. Even now it continues to expand, slowly but surely.”

He looked down imposingly at her. “And yet, it is not enough. It is little compared to the threats posed in this galaxy. And in the end, territory does not equal power. It is a tool in the unseen war all species are a part of.”

“I suppose you’re going to explain that?” She asked.

“Of course,” he confirmed. “But I would like to know what Aegis has said about me. Why he…defected.”

She grunted. “I would have thought you’d read my mind to get that answer.”

“To what end?” He asked. “I find little enjoyment in learning of the mundane details of lives. Most are inclined to distrust you if they know you will violate their minds. I see little point in doing so unless there is a greater purpose.”

A policy Patricia had to agree with, since it was fairly similar to her own. “He says that you’ve changed from their original goal. That you’re no longer interested in fighting the Synthesized; that you’ve become obsessed with the Sovereign Ones and seem to be planning to turn on them.”

“I see.” The Imperator stood and walked down the steps to the ground floor, with Patricia following him. “A vast oversimplification, but not entirely inaccurate. Since awakening…I have learned much about this galaxy. I spent a decade simply reviewing the Synthesized War, I planned for decades more how to fight them. I accepted the help of the Sovereign Ones at first, initially pleased we were not the only survivors. But the more I learned, the more things have changed.”

“How?”

“The Synthesized are not an unthinking horde; they manipulated the Empire into fighting exactly how they wished us to,” the Imperator explained. “They sent hordes of poorly made constructs to fight on our planets, and we sent our legions to fight them. We killed billions. They killed thousands. An acceptable trade, as every Ethereal that fell could not be easily replaced. They do not care about time or speed. They knew how we would respond, and they drained our Empire of our soldiers over a war of centuries.”

“Couldn’t it have been luck?” Patricia asked. “Even if their tactics were simple, that doesn’t mean they were intentional.”

“Most believed that initially,” the Imperator said, beginning to pace around her. “But the creation of the Imperators changed that. We assumed control of the Empire; we saw the pointlessness of fighting the hordes, and began targeting the only things that mattered – the Flagships. We didn’t waste time on unthinking masses; we sacrificed planets to kill even a few of the Flagships. We brought the Empire back from a sure defeat. And _that_ was when we learned how much the Synthesized had been holding back.”

Patricia furrowed her eyebrows. “I feel Aegis would have mentioned something like this.”

“His view was limited to where he fought,” the Imperator responded flatly. “He never participated in galactic strategy. He never saw the larger plan, nor do I think he could truly comprehend or accept that the Empire had been tricked by machines.” He motioned to himself. “Imperators are not like other Ethereals. We did not think like traditional Ethereals. We grew up without the traditions, stigmas and drawbacks of the Empire.”

Patricia nodded. “So what happened?”

“The front line of the war became the Imperators,” he answered. “The Synthesized began targeting us much like we had targeted the Flagships. They reduced their useless husks, and began deploying soldiers that were beyond our own in terms of power and intellect. Imperators began dying from assassinations, ambushes, and freak accidents. They were predicting everything we could do; our psionics stopped working against their most powerful soldiers.”

He paused. “Within two years a quarter of the living Imperators had died. That was when I determined the war was lost. Perhaps if we had been at the beginning, we would emerge victorious, but it was too late. The Empire had condemned itself long before we had arrived, and nothing could be done to change it.”

There was some silence for a few moments. “If that’s the case, then why would you _not_ want to prepare?”

“There is a difference between _preparing_ and _prioritizing_ ,” the Imperator answered, stopping and looking directly down at her. “One question that few ask is _where_ the Synthesized came from. They are not natural, that is clear. But even if they are, no one has an answer. But I am certain I have, and they are merely the symptom of a much more prevalent threat.”

Patricia swallowed. “And what is that?”

“That the ones who created the Synthesized still exist, and they are the Sovereign Ones.”

She had suspected he was leading to this. “Perhaps it was a mistake?” She asked after a few moments. “I doubt they…intended this.”

The Imperator rumbled, likely an approximation of a chuckle or laugh. “Patricia, the creation of the Synthesized is something that makes perfect sense when you understand the context the Sovereign Ones have operated in since the beginning of their existence. The Synthesized operate _exactly_ how their creator intended.”

“Right.” Patricia said slowly. “So since you know…what are the Sovereign Ones? What is their story?”

“A long and violent one,” the Imperator said wistfully. “I have pieced this together from observation, interaction, and looking at history itself. The Sovereign Ones, as they contacted us soon after we awakened, were and continue to be helpful. But they have lied to me. They do not answer about the Synthesized, only that they are an enemy. They say they are many, but I am quite certain that there is only one Sovereign One assisting the Collective.”

“Just one?”

“Yes,” the Imperator sounded almost sad. “In a calculated risk, I allowed one of my Ethereals to become a dedicated voice. She is now…linked to the Sovereign One. He shares secrets with her; reveals things in their communications. I listen to them, I learn, I know there is only one Sovereign One, and his plans are far beyond that of the Synthesized.” The Imperator trailed off.

“I initially wanted to sever any kind of contact, but making an enemy this potentially powerful was not something to risk. So instead I began exploring, gathering information. Going to places the Sovereign One had warned us away from, or only partially following suggestions.”

Patricia thought. “Has it told you its name?”

“Only once, as Mosrimor,” the Imperator answered. “Sovereign Ones do not have long names, and sometimes they seem to take titles instead. Do you wonder, Patricia, _why_ I have kept to the edge of the galaxy and not moved further in?”

“Power consolidation,” she guessed. “And they are more powerful than you are.”

“One reason,” he acknowledged. “But because of what I uncovered in the initial exploration of the inner galaxy. Many of the species are under the influence of Sovereigns; they use them as a proxy to explore, expand, and wage war. We are all pawns on their galactic game of conquest. Mosrimor does not intend for the Ethereal Collective to fight the Synthesized; he plans for us to conquer the puppet species and kill their Sovereign masters.”

At that moment Patricia felt she was now extremely in over her head. The implications of that were…staggering. “So…the Sovereign Ones are fighting each other?”

“I have seen much in support, and little to disprove it,” the Imperator nodded. “The galaxy is a battleground that takes place over millennia. Species are shaped, rise, and fall; they adapt, evolve, and advance at the hands of a Sovereign master. They fight in proxy wars in a never-ending conflict of dominance in this galaxy. I can only speculate the role the Synthesized play in this, but I believe it is a timer of sorts. Something which comes to set everything back to the beginning. Perhaps there is another Sovereign One behind it, perhaps it is from another galaxy; but it is no accident or natural development.”

There was something that didn’t make sense. “Even if that’s true, why would they not just fight the Synthesized together and then go back to killing each other?”

“Because you seem to think that they actually care about the Synthesized,” the Imperator said, audibly amused. “The only threat they ultimately posed was to their pawn species. The Sovereign Ones are cowards who hide and manipulate from afar. They are content to wage endless war; time has no meaning to them.”

He paused. “However, I believe there is a better explanation. If they were to band together, it would mean that one of them might actually win. The conclusion of their conflict is the rule of one Sovereign One in this galaxy. The Synthesized act as a…reset button. One which they usually do not contest, as their proxies are so weakened by conflict with each other that they are crushed by the Synthesized…” he trailed off. “This is speculation on my part, as I have limited first-hand knowledge, but it is an educated guess.”

“I suppose the next question is…was your species a proxy?” She asked. “Aegis said there were almost no major conflicts.”

“I do not know.” He answered heavily. “There was always the question of who engineered us. That was unquestionably a Sovereign One…but I do not know why there was not a more direct hand taken. Perhaps we were an experiment. Perhaps the Sovereign who created us was killed. Perhaps we were manipulated in other ways. Our isolationism. Our superiority. Perhaps they were weaknesses that the Sovereign Ones exploited by never forcing us to advance. It will likely remain an unsolved mystery.”

“So that was when you started changing the direction of the Collective,” Patricia realized, and honestly it made some sense. “But why didn’t you tell the others? Aegis would have likely understood.”

“Two reasons,” the Imperator raised a finger. “Too many who knew would have possibly turned Mosrimor against us, and we would have fought a destructive war we might not have won. And second…because some would not believe it is necessary. They would still wish to treat a Sovereign One as an ally, a means to an end. That, if I have learned anything, _does not work_. That, is what they _want_ us to think. They seed us with technology, make us reliant on them, they slowly and subtly indoctrinate us with communication, until we are willing pawns.” The hand closed to a fist. “I will not allow my species to be turned into a puppet for such a being.”

“That is…understandable,” she nodded slowly. “That certainly puts the Chronicler in a different light.”

“Indeed, and I will get to that,” the Imperator nodded. “But I have used this knowledge. I have sought out uncorrupted species. Ones who were independent and free of the control of the Sovereign ones. The Sectoids, Andromedons, Vitakara, and Mutons were all free of the influence, and I have kept a careful watch on all Sovereign tech to ensure that it doesn’t influence us unknowingly.”

“Hasn’t Mosrimor figured out what you’re doing…” Patricia paused. “And speaking of that, what _do_ you plan to do for him?”

“He is arrogant, like all Sovereign Ones,” the Imperator said. “They do not measure time like we do. Barely a moment has passed for him; mere decades. He does not care. Yet. He could never conceive of an alien turning on him, and my appeasements have made him lax. But as for my plans…well, he is not the only one I have found.”

“Another?” Patricia asked. “Isn’t that…dangerous? Especially since they like to fight each other?”

“This is a slightly different situation,” the Imperator explained. “The Creator was…contacted by something from what you call the Psionosphere. Something that should be impossible, but nonetheless exists. I do not know the details, except that this being is extremely powerful, a former Sovereign One, and _trapped_.”

She imagined a smile under his helmet. “At this moment, the Creator is working to allow him to…cross over. Unfortunately for him, I have also informed Mosrimor about this, and he has been extraordinarily helpful in infecting her Blacksite with specially designed nanotech; a specialty of his, I presume. He has fought the “Bringer,” as he was known before, and knows how to subdue him. The nanotech will slave him to the owner, and he believes I have given him control over him.”

“But you have the control,” Patricia noted slowly.

“Correct,” the Imperator nodded. “And when the Bringer crosses over, I will send him to kill Mosrimor, and he will serve as an excellent tool against the other Sovereign Ones, and when the Synthesized are defeated, he will be sent to the center of the galaxy to die in the black holes that inhabit it.”

“Assuming it goes according to plan,” Patricia noted.

“I have taken appropriate precautions,” the Imperator said. “And if it doesn’t work…I have contingencies. I always assume that something will go wrong, and what can be done to prevent it. Pitting Sovereign Ones against each other is risky, but risks are needed when the stakes are the galaxy itself.”

He paused, looking at her for a few moments. “You are such a risk now. Your species is. But it is one worth taking. You want to know, don’t you. Why we are attacking you; why we have taken such steps.”

“Yes.”

“There are several reasons I am interested in your species,” he began. “You are one of the few who can use the Gift, or psionics. More than that, you are capable of great power with it, far more than the Sectoids ever could be. Your species also has a large portion who are sensitive, and you have already realized the power that gives your military. But that is not the main reason, or even a largely important one.”

“Then what is?”

“Consider the species in the Collective,” the Imperator said. “Each one serves a purpose, yet they also have drawbacks. I initially believed that these weaknesses could be phased out or mitigated but that has so far been…inaccurate. The Sectoids, they were the first… _failure_ , I suppose. They are brilliant scientists, with a mastery over genetics that one day could rival our own.”

His hand lowered to the side. “Yet they are cold, empty; they cannot comprehend the concepts of empathy or friendship. They are a frail species who are cowards when faced with events outside what they plan for. This has made them…cruel, and ultimately of limited use to me. They are a tool, but they cannot ever be more than such.”

“But have you actually made efforts to change them?” Patricia asked. “Or simply allowed them to develop?”

“I am hesitant to change the nature of a sapient species now,” the Imperator explained. “If I take such a step, we are no better than the Sovereign Ones. I am not interested in _puppets_ , Patricia. I want _allies_ , I want _unity_ , and I want for each species to be responsible for their own achievements. Yet you are correct in that I have been too lax. My kind has been lax in our responsibility in guiding and leading.”

“And why is that?” She asked.

“Ethereals, by our nature, are not leaders,” the Imperator made a noise very similar to a sigh. “We cannot usually bring ourselves to care about those under us; their concerns rarely seem important. This translates to arrogance and superiority, when in reality it could simply be apathy. There are exceptions. The Battlemaster is one. Quisilia as well. Imperators also lack this limitation, but there is a reason I have been…absent.”

Patricia nodded. “Which is?”

“I wanted to see if we would change, or if such would have to be forced,” he answered. “I wanted the Ethereals to willingly take a leadership role in the Collective. But I soon saw that we are simply not suited for it, regardless of how much we try. Although I have the capability, I cannot be the leader this Collective ultimately needs.”

He shook his head. “The Vitakara could have perhaps worked in our stead. They are intelligent and loyal to us; a rare combination. But the problem is that they are too passive; they cannot use psionics, and they have little ambition. The Andromedons are too focused on the past; of their petty rivalries and wars. They are methodical and brilliant engineers, but they will betray you once they find a better alternative.”

He chuckled. “And the Mutons are nothing more than an easily controlled breed. Dangerous in strength and size, but lacking in intellect; the vast majority only suited to fight and die in the name of those who command them. They are naturally incapable of brilliance or independence, and while we can cheat nature, their purpose will never change for us.”

A finger pointed at her. “And now that brings us to your species – Humans. The Collective…lacks certain qualities. It is as it sounds – a collection of species unified under the leadership of the Ethereals, but in reality it is three factions constantly spying, undermining, and expanding on their own, while little true leadership is done. The Battlemaster can only do so much.”

He paused. “I believe that Humans could serve as the leaders of the Collective. Your kind are intelligent, charismatic, ruthless when needed and understand the more nuanced emotions Andromedons and Sectoids do not. You have proven you can adapt and advanced despite the odds being against you. Your species will be what holds the Collective together, and we will advise when requested. That is the future I see for your species. You will not win the war, but I have no intention of wasting your potential.”

Patricia knew it sounded good, but if that was the case… “Then why did you invade us in the first place? Any chance you would have had to bring us in peacefully is gone. ADVENT isn’t going to fall or surrender peacefully.”

He laughed again. “Now, when did I say I _wanted_ ADVENT to fail?”

She blinked. “Because with ADVENT, Humanity will never become part of the Collective. You don’t have a choice.”

“Do I?” He was amused. “ADVENT is performing exactly how I wished it too. Why do you think they have been allowed to expand so quickly? Why I have not taken opportunities to lessen their reach? Why I have simply not ordered Saudia be assassinated? I ignored Canada for a reason; just as I ignored the Middle East. The attack on France drove more countries into ADVENT. The attacks on Korea and D.C. will do the same. No, Patricia, I do not want ADVENT to _fail_ , I want it to _succeed_.”

Patricia was dumbfounded. “But…why?”

“I have researched your history,” he explained, beginning to pace again. “Unification is a dream your species has sought, but never attained. There have always been dissidents, traitors, and fools who sabotage this. I have little interest in assimilating your species and facing dozens of terrorists or rebel groups. Fortunately, ADVENT does not either. They will fully unite your species and crush those who oppose them.”

His voice turned thoughtful. “There was a reason that many in ADVENT in positions of power are…driven. Stein; Watkins; Falka; all who would be considered extreme, but fit the mold of ADVENT perfectly. It is a simple matter of making the right people obvious; moving a name further up a list, having someone mention a name in conversation; little details that push specific people forward.”

“You controlled them,” Patricia said in a mix of awe and horror.

“No,” he dismissed. “I simply changed what was seen. In the end, the decisions were made by Saudia, and the Commander; I simply helped choose what they were going to see. It was necessary to ensure the success of ADVENT.”

“Even if that’s true, you haven’t explained how that benefits you,” Patricia pointed out. “ADVENT isn’t exactly going to be open to that idea, no matter if you subtly ‘assisted’ them or not.”

“I will leave that detail for when the time comes,” was all he said. “Suffice that I am confident in it. But you are right in one aspect – why I bothered to invade at all. That you might be able to guess, but first I will go back long before we stepped foot on your planet. In fact, I am the reason your species wasn’t wiped out.”

Patricia arched an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“Mosrimor gave me your world, and suggested that the species could become dangerous and should be removed,” he revealed. “This confused me, and by then I had only partially pieced together the story of the Sovereign Ones. I instead sent scouting crafts; many of your UFO abduction stories are based on those expeditions. I saw nothing of interest, nor any reason to kill or stay your species. So for a time I dismissed you – until I was more knowledgeable about the Sovereign Ones. I knew Mosrimor would not have given me that suggestion without a reason. So I decided to find out what that reason was.”

He motioned with a lower arm. “I ordered a limited incursion, I wanted to see how your species would react. You formed XCOM and began fighting back; an interesting development, but not the answer I was after. I learned of EXALT and began leveraging them, but I also failed to receive the answer. It was only recently that I obtained it – in the form of the Chronicler.”

The Imperator paused. “That is the purpose of the invasion, Patricia. To determine if your species was under the influence of a Sovereign One. I knew that they would be familiar with the tactic if it was true, and they would react swiftly. When this did not happen, I wondered if it would be more subtle; from behind the scenes, hence EXALT. But I saw no influence there, even with what I know of the Chronicler now.”

“Do you think we are?”

“No,” the Imperator shook his helmet. “You are indeed independent. But I do believe I know what Mosrimor intended for me to do. Your species may not be under its control, but there is a Sovereign One on Earth.” One hand curled into a fist. “He is awakened now, and he will likely try and use your species. I do not intend for that to happen. The objective now is to kill or neutralize the Sovereign One on Earth. ADVENT will continue to fight us, but they are no longer my largest concern.”

“But why keep this a secret?” Patricia demanded. “This changes everything!”

“Because we are all in a very dangerous game,” the Imperator said, almost sadly. “When pitting multiple beings of god-like power against each other, risks cannot be taken. The war provides a useful cover. The world will fall under the control of the Battlemaster, or ADVENT. In the meantime I will hunt and kill the Sovereign One, by leveraging what I can against it. More importantly, if I was to simply reveal the nature of the galaxy, it would escalate to the point where everything would collapse. The Collective would be destroyed, ADVENT would be under a Sovereign One, and everyone else dead or scattered.”

“And what happens if the Battlemaster wins?” Patricia asked.

“Then so be it,” the Imperator said nonchalantly. “It will not change your role in the Collective. It will simply be the system of government that is different. Every move that is made now is a risk, Patricia, with a misstep ending all I have built. But this is a cycle that has likely gone on for billions of years, and I am going to make an effort to break it.”

There was some silence between them.

“So why am I here?” She finally asked.

“Because I want you to help me,” he answered. “You are one who can adapt and change based on what you know. You can sense I am not lying. You can see what I intend, and can deduce why I have taken this path. Your purpose is greater than in XCOM; you have the opportunity to help shape a galactic civilization and begin breaking an unfathomably long war.”

He lifted a hand. “However, I will not make this decision. You will. If you wish, you can leave. You may return to XCOM and no one will stop you. You can, of course, attempt to warn them of this; spread what I intend. Perhaps they will believe you, perhaps they won’t. I cannot see the future, but there was a reason I chose you out of others. Most cannot see past their own problems; others will be like Aegis and believe Sovereign Ones can safely be allies; still more will never forgive the Collective, justified or not.”

He lowered the hand. “Or you can stay and assist me in achieving this goal. I have obviously said this to convince you of the necessity and logic of my plans, but I have no interest in an unthinking pawn or puppet. I am not a Sovereign One. Choices are what shape us, and to deny choice is to remove free will. So this is your choice, Patricia Trask, but know that if you leave, this will never be offered again. The next time we will meet, you will die.”

Thoughts swirled around in her head. This wasn’t a simple yes or no answer anymore; what the Imperator had said changed everything. Would the Commander listen to her? Aegis probably wouldn’t, but the Commander…he would say the Imperator was likely lying. Trying to manipulate her. But she could sense everything he was saying was what he believed.

Could she not trust herself?

“You do not have to decide now,” the Imperator said. “Stay. Wander. Talk with those around you. Gather information; details if you wish. I am not interested in a snap decision; think on this. You will have to make a choice one day, but for now you can simply consider what I said. And if you still wish to leave, you will be able to do so.”

He walked back over to his throne and sat down upon it. “I will be here. You may speak to me when you wish. I have instructed the Guardians and the Praetorian Guard to give you free reign of the ship.”

Patricia turned away, too absorbed in thought to even say goodbye. With conflict raging inside her, she settled for simply trying to get some sleep on it.

Maybe when she woke up next time, the right decision would be clearer.

Because right now, she truly did not know.


	34. Autopsy

 

_Archive of the Disprium, Disprium Base - Mars_

_12/1/2016 – 11:15 A.M._

It was past time that this conversation was had.

It was also past time that they begin making use of this surprisingly intact base which Cogitian had finally gotten around to cataloging. As the Battlemaster had suspected, it was undoubtedly one of the Disprium bases. Out of the ruins they had found in their exploration of the galaxy, theirs were often the most intact and usually possessed some form of useful information.

They had yet to find out exactly what had happened to them, but the Battlemaster already suspected they had befallen a similar fate to the Empire. As far as he knew, there was only one power which could take down one as expansive as the Disprium had controlled. Cogitian was still unsure if that was the correct translation, or if it was even the name of their species, or merely what they called their form of government.

At the moment, however, it was irrelevant.

No matter what they had called themselves, they had fallen into the same trap as the Empire and utilized the tainted element. There had been extensive amounts of it stored in the deeper vaults of the base, and after it had been safely packaged, it was moved to Revelean’s Blacksite. There had been far more of it than previous bases, and given the contents of the archives, the Battlemaster could easily figure out why.

Originally, he had suspected it was an observation post to watch the Humans, but the archives were filled with various kinds of weapons. Not merely bombs and ranged rifles, but ones designed to kill planets and systems. Another curious thing that Cogitian had noticed was that a good portion of the weaponry had involved some measure of Sovereign technology.

That had not been encouraging.

It served as proof that the Sovereign Ones _had_ likely been around when the Synthesized were attacking other species, and yet it seemed that even their extensive technology hadn’t been enough. Then again, too much of it relied on the tainted element, so perhaps there was some hope to be taken in that. Although they would need to begin utilizing what they had right now, sooner than later.

The archives themselves had been moved to the Temple Ship, and the room itself had been converted into his own briefing center. While the Observation Station was useful, there was no reason not to make use of the established base. On his orders, the restoration had already begun and would firmly establish the Collective within the Solar System.

And now it was time to do the same to the rest of the Collective.

Hence why Revelean, Fectorian, Quisilia, and Sana’Ligna were with him right now. He had considered involving the Zar’Chon, but he would have a role to play in the future. This was a conversation which could only be had by the Ethereals.

Although a quick glance at Quisilia slightly disputed that.

Fine then. Ethereals and a cat.

All of them stood in a circle around the similarly shaped holographic table. “It is time to reevaluate our approach,” he said slowly. “Not just concerning the Humans, but the Collective itself. Even without the assistance of Aegis until recently, the Humans have managed to hold their own, and in doing so, have exposed critical weaknesses in the Collective that cannot be ignored any longer.”

“Or to put it more accurately,” Quisilia interjected, placing the action figure of an XCOM soldier on the holotable. “This represents the Humans,” he put the action figure of a Sectoid in front of the soldier. “This represents the Collective. And this represents what they are currently doing to us.” He then made the soldier punch the Sectoid, and it fell over.

The Battlemaster was no longer surprised to see Quisilia playing with action figures. While a juvenile way of illustrating the problem, it was not completely inaccurate. “That is one way of showing it.”

“On that, we agree,” Fectorian said, crossing his upper arms as he turned the conversation more serious. “It is quite concerning that they are managing to not only hold against our forces, but also _win_.”

“Our technological and military stagnation is only one aspect,” the Battlemaster pointed out, looking around to each of them. “The other is that the Collective itself is not united, and it is quite obvious that it has never truly been. What exists now is merely a convenient alliance of species. It is not under a unified power.”

“Debatable,” Revelean said. “That is what our role is, and that of the Imperator. We allow the species…autonomy…and in return they follow our commands.”

“Yes, because you and Fectorian have certainly been fine examples of leaders of the Collective,” Quisilia said dryly. “I can certainly see why they would continue following us. I can’t think of a single reason for why the Federation is threatening to withdraw, or the Hive Commanders and Aui’Vitakar are suitably angry.”

“You are one to talk,” Revelean hissed. “Your point is made. And the Battlemaster has admittedly done this better than any of us.”

“Yes and no,” Quisilia said, eyeing Revelean. “While I certainly keep my work…out of the public, I at least assist in the general affairs of the Collective. I don’t spend my time exclusively in my Blacksite pursuing fruitless projects; blind to the outside galaxy.”

“I am a scientist, not a diplomat,” Revelean scoffed. “Of _course_ I do not do this.”

“Enough.” The Battlemaster raised a fist. “We, as a species, have failed to do what was expected of us. We are supposed to be the leaders of the Collective, and we have failed as such. That will change.”

“Is the Imperator aware of this?” Fectorian asked. “Knowing you, I suspect you will be making some…reforms. It might be wise to inform him of this.”

“The Imperator has not led the Collective,” the Battlemaster replied flatly. “While I cannot claim the same, I have been involved more than he has. He will be informed, but this will proceed with or without his approval.”

“Hm,” Quisilia stroked his cat, which purred loudly. “Battlemaster, while the Imperator certainly could have done better, I would advise not taking extensive liberties. Despite how it has seemed, he has been watching the Collective, though he has been…preoccupied.”

Since Quisilia did interact with the Imperator more often, the Battlemaster suspected he was telling the truth. “If that is the case, he should make that clear. And refrain from keeping secrets. That is part of the reason this situation has deteriorated. There are too many who are pursuing their own goals and failing to properly inform those they work with. We are all guilty of this.”

“Battlemaster,” Sana interrupted, raising her hand; her melodic voice cutting through the others. “You have stated the need for reform. I am pleased you have realized it. But what are you specifically planning? It is why you have asked us here, yes?”

“Correct,” he nodded. “Each of you will have a part in this. The rest are occupied or otherwise incompatible with what is needed. Macula and Nebulan are on Earth, and those on the Temple Ship are too occupied with what the Imperator is doing.”

“Such a shame,” Quisilia mocked. “Inviting the Creator and Isomnum would have certainly made this more interesting.”

Sana shot him a disapproving look. “The ones you mentioned should be brought under tighter control. If not confined entirely. I have yet to hear a suitable reason for why Isomnum is allowed to roam freely. The Imperator may have forgotten what he has done, but I certainly have not.”

“The illustrious Dread Lord has his flaws,” Quisilia admitted, tapping them off on his lower hands. “Child experimentation, torture, and a questionable fascination with fear; but the thing is that even the Synthesized became terrified of him. He has a role to play, despite being such an…unsavory individual.”

“As for the Creator, she will be dealt with in due time,” the Battlemaster rumbled. “Her pets have caused trouble. I do not know what she is working on, but that will change shortly. I agree that she has been allowed far too much freedom.”

“Ah, about that,” Quisilia raised a hand. “That is directly being overseen by the Imperator. That, Battlemaster, is outside your jurisdiction.”

“Then tell him to get the Creator under control,” was the response. “If he does not, I will.”

Quisilia just sighed. “He will not like that.”

“Then he should be doing a better job.”

The cat meowed.

“There are three aspects which need to be addressed,” the Battlemaster said after a few moments, looking around at each of them. “Our military and technology, Ethereal leadership within the Collective, and this Sovereign One which appears to be hiding on Earth.”

“That is a problem,” Fectorian noted, looking up thoughtfully. “It raises certain questions. But it doesn’t appear to have directly allied with the Humans yet, although since Quisilia threw the puppet into space, I doubt it will be friendly. A dangerous enemy to have.”

“Indeed,” the Battlemaster said. “Which I will use to segue into the first aspect. Our military is not properly prepared or equipped to fight on Earth. Our primarily infantry military does not hold against their kinds of warfare, and there are severe issues in regards to soldier training and stability.”

“I can attest to this,” Sana said with a sigh. “Too many of the Vitakara cannot handle the stresses of war. Many cannot psychologically handle it, through no fault of their own. They are just not innately capable of violence.”

“With the exception of Oyariah and Borelians,” Revelean corrected.

“That is true.”

“The Vitakara are an issue,” the Battlemaster agreed. “The entry requirements are too lax. And their paranoia regarding genetic modification is a hindrance and outdated notion.”

“It almost killed their species,” Sana reminded them. “I hardly think it to be unreasonable.”

“Which we cured, if you recall,” Revelean reminded her. “Modern modification is perfectly safe and effective.”

“The point is that we have used Vitakara too broadly,” the Battlemaster continued. “Not all are suitable for combat, and the ones that are cannot hope to effectively fight against many of the standard ADVENT soldiers, much less ADVENT Special Forces or XCOM. We need to provide similar advantages. We have the capability; and now we need to utilize it.”

“Forcing genetic modification will not endear them to us,” Sana cautioned. “Do you understand what you are asking them?”

“If they are part of the military, then they are subject to our regulations,” the Battlemaster answered. “And that is why you and Revelean are going to help convince them.”

“Excuse me?” Revelean asked.

“Yes,” the Battlemaster repeated. “You, Revelean, are going to be a lead geneticist on the Collective Enhancement Initiative. You have stayed in your Blacksite for too long; it is time for you to show the galaxy what you can do. You will decide how our infantry forces will be enhanced and improved, and you will do this in conjunction with the Hive Commanders, and those from the Federation and Vitakara who wish to assist in this development.”

“You want me to work with aliens,” Revelean said, not so much in anger as in surprise. “You want to give them direct access to the most advanced techniques in this galaxy?”

“Yes.” Was the answer. “Your immediate dismissal of aliens is one of the reasons we are in this situation. You will work with them, and I suspect they will surprise you. If you do not think you can do this, I will find someone who can.”

“I can certainly do it,” Revelean said quickly. “Though I am skeptical, nor particularly appreciate this being forced upon me.”

The Battlemaster wasn’t particularly offended. “We all do what we must for the Collective, like it or not.”

He turned to Fectorian. “You will have a similar role, Fectorian. I am sure you can agree that our vehicles in the Collective are…lacking. You will come up with better ones, and you will do it in conjunction with the Federation and those from the Hive Commanders and Vitakara who wish to participate.”

“Excellent,” Fectorian said eagerly. “It has certainly taken long enough. I have many designs that will serve well against the Humans. And if the aliens can provide assistance, then they will be welcome. I assume the previous projects should be continued?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I look forward to it.”

“And I will be spending my time reorganizing the Collective military itself,” the Battlemaster continued. “Quisilia, you will work with the Zar’Chon to refine and improve the Zararch. Be sure to listen to him.”

“Certainly,” Quisilia nodded. “I will say he will greatly appreciate these reforms.”

“And now we should focus on smoothing over the issues caused by Aegis,” the Battlemaster continued. “Every species is on some level demanding answers. We will have to provide those as best we can. Revelean, you will accompany me to speak with the Hive Commanders. Fectorian will go with the Zar’Chon to speak to the Federation, and I have already mentioned our visit to Vitakar. Combined with initiatives which will be led by Revelean and Fectorian, it should help to begin fostering some unity within the Collective, instead of the species only looking out for themselves.”

“The Federation is demanding the Imperator himself explain the situation,” Quisilia reminded him.

“I’m working on the assumption that the Imperator will not follow that request,” the Battlemaster said. “However, that would be ideal and I will inquire about this. I would ask you do the same.”

“If we wish to maintain the cooperation of the species, we will need to continue this,” Sana said. “We cannot simply show up when we are facing criticism. That is too reactive, and will not build trust.”

“Which is why you will be in charge of maintaining our diplomatic ties between the various species,” the Battlemaster said. “I suspect your feelings on the Humans are unchanged, but I do not need you for that. I need you to keep the peace and demonstrate Ethereal leadership and cooperation.”

“While I am more than happy to do this,” Sana said slowly. “You have raised the question of _why_ we must continue this war. Would it not make more sense to attempt to broker a peace between us and ADVENT? They have Caelior, and Aegis is allied with them. More fighting could lead to more of us dying or being captured.”

“It is too late for that,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “The Humans will not willingly be confined to their own world. They will treat peace as a means to keep advancing. They will wage war again one day; we cannot rely on them for that. The fault for this war is ours, but there is little that can be done about it now except finishing it.”

“Aside from that, allowing a Sovereign One free reign will backfire,” Quisilia added. “We would be fools to let that kind of being loose on a highly vengeful species. Aegis is bad enough, but a living Sovereign One is far worse. We cannot leave now.”

“This Sovereign One will be a problem,” Revelean agreed. “The question is how involved it plans to be. While it is certainly not our friend, if it was an ally to the Humans, it would have been clear.”

“There are two things that need to be done,” the Battlemaster said. “The first is to determine if there is a Sovereign One physically on Earth. If there is, it will almost certainly be in the deep oceans of Earth. We will need to transition part of our military to underwater combat.”

“The Sar’Manda?” Sana asked.

“The Andromedon Aquatic Forces are better,” the Battlemaster said. “The Sar’Manda would be more trouble than they’re worth to corral them into following Collective orders. Transitioning part of the Vitakara and Andromedons will serve just as well. Fectorian, you will also provide assistance on this.”

“Of course.”

“We should also consult with the Sovereign Ones about how best to handle this one,” he continued. “I would be surprised if this was the first time it had happened. The Voice should be informed of the situation. If anyone will know how to kill or subdue one, it will be her.”

“Agreed,” Fectorian said. “And I believe this is the perfect opportunity to begin the implementation of Sovereign Tech far more extensively. I can understand not using it on the Humans, but a Sovereign One, even a rogue one, is not one to take chances with.”

“I was going to say that,” the Battlemaster nodded. “It is time we take advantage of this gift and master it. Knowledge is useless without application. The Imperator’s mandate regarding the technology is suppressed until further notice. Utilize it as you see fit.”

Quisilia set his cat down, his voice not having any humor in it for once. “While I do think the Imperator will not take issue with the reforms you are proposing, that is something he will not approve of. Sovereign technology is something we do not fully understand-“

“Which is why we need to study it. The knowledge will not suddenly appear to us.”

“Sovereign technology should not be utilized unless absolutely necessary,” Quisilia insisted. “Neither I, nor the Imperator consider it the pinnacle of all things. We cannot become reliant on it; there is something we do not understand about it. Think about where we stand; what we found here. All the Sovereign weapons in the galaxy didn’t ultimately help them, now, did it?”

“They used the tainted element.”

Quisilia sighed. “Just consider this a warning. I do not fully trust the Sovereign Ones; certainly not those who offer technology to warp the galaxy freely.”

“Warning acknowledged,” the Battlemaster humored before dismissing it from his mind. The paranoia of the Imperator was not something he considered a major factor into his decision. The fact was that they were going to be facing this level of technology eventually, and they needed to match it. It certainly would not replace what already existed, but it would augment it.

“I will be sending out more specific details shortly,” the Battlemaster said, looking around at all of them. “We all have our directives and plans. It is time to put them into action. Dismissed.”

***

_Operation Command, Zararch Wing – Mars Collective Base_

_12/2/2016 – 1:12 P.M._

It was only a matter of time until the Battlemaster was forced to actually do something. Granted, Ravarian would have preferred he did it some time ago, but better late than never. The Battlemaster was one of the few Ethereals he’d seen who would actually change his tactics if pressed, and it seemed that point had been reached.

The transition from the Observation Station to the alien base below had been a welcome change. He actually quite liked the layout, even if he had never stepped foot into a similar base before. He did know it was from the same species as other ruins he’d seen, but this was by far the most intact.

The downside to the Battlemaster reworking nearly everything was that he was now tasked, along with Quisilia, with reorganizing the Zararch, shoring up weaknesses, and coming up with an actual plan for dealing with the Humans. Of course, ‘downside’ was relative. It was more work, but he felt like he was able to properly do his job for the first time in a while.

“Our intelligence gathering capabilities need to be expanded,” he told Quisilia. “We’ve seen the consequences of not understanding this. The personnel are not the problem per-se, but their equipment and protocols.”

Quisilia paced around the room, with his cat trailing not too far behind. Although the Zar’Chon’s own pet was intermittently meowing at him for attention, so he’d decided to just hold the blasted cat so it would stop pestering him. “We can certainly make better cloaking and sensor equipment, but the problem is infiltrating the cities themselves. While I certainly can do this, I am not the average Zararch agent.”

“No, I’ve decided that is not an effective strategy,” Ravarian interrupted, raising a hand as he looked down at the holomap. “We need eyes in the city. Human eyes and ears; ones who can pass the blood tests. Ethereal bioscience can’t fully overhaul circulatory systems, and Nartha was a special case we can’t replicate on a large scale.”

“Oh, you have a proposal?” Quisilia asked.

Ravarian took a breath. That he did, but it was fairly radical. “Yes. If we are going through the trouble of reorganizing the Zararch, it might as well expand to include the rest of the Collective races; Sectoids and Andromedons included. The Special Operators in particular should be working for us, not the Federation.”

 _Radical is an understatement_ , the thought immediately appeared, even as Quisilia stopped. _Interesting. I presume you would use standard agents to capture Humans, then use Sectoids to tailor them to our needed spies?_

“One usage, yes,” Ravarian nodded. “While it is certainly a risk with ADVENT Priests, it will force them to always be distrusting of the population. It could serve for raising tensions.” His palm flashed as holographic text began scrolling as he refreshed himself with additional details. “It does not even need to be so complex. Psionically-induced terrorism or sabotage will have the needed effect of damaging ADVENT, and destroying trust in psionics. ADVENT is attempting to make psions socially acceptable – we should try and minimize that.”

“That-“ Quisilia said, raising a finger. “Is not how you accomplish this goal. Having a bunch of ordinary Humans going around committing crimes does little, unless it is directly attributed to psionic influence. While I can’t say I’d be opposed to having random Humans doing unpredictable things, like shooting up an armory or changing the stored names of all leaders to ‘Quisilia’, all you will do is make ADVENT crack down harder.”

He took the critique in stride. “And what else do you propose.”

“ADVENT, in their attempt to minimize giving psionics to people who shouldn’t have them, has created a weak point we can exploit,” he answered thoughtfully. “Poison the well, so to speak. Manipulate their data to allow candidates that fail their tests go through, and those who pass to fail. A calculated risk, but it is more likely to have the effect you want.”

Ravarian nodded to himself. That was a good plan, although it relied on some degree of penetration, which they really did not have right now. “I’ll begin an operational plan to implement that. We should also utilize the Zararch to…eliminate the issues being caused in our captured cities.”

“I assume you refer to Seattle,” Quisilia mused. “Problematic, yes. Interesting that they’re sabotaging their own city to whittle our forces down.”

“It’s frustrating,” Ravarian sighed. “They’re not numerous enough to be a standard army, smart enough not to get caught, and only attack when they have the advantage. It doesn’t help that they’re creating choke points and cutting off entire units from each other. And sending in more forces has not helped. This is a guerilla force; we need intelligence operatives to destroy it.”

“On that you have my agreement,” Quisilia said. “Do what you must to solve this.”

“And we need to discuss Nartha,” Ravarian also said after a few moments. “I believe we’ve gotten what we need from him. Letting him run around is an unnecessary risk.”

“I disagree with that assessment,” Quisilia answered as his cat jumped into his arms. “Nartha is providing an excellent service. As one of the few known dissidents he is most certainly going to find additional sympathizers. Thanks to him we have the network of Muton smugglers mapped out, certain cells of the Nulorian known, and with the current situations in the Collective, I suspect there are going to be those more open to dissent. Send him to the Andromedons. Once he has done what he can, we can revisit this discussion.”

He knew the Ethereal’s mind was made up then. Well, as far as risks went, Nartha was one they could at least control to a degree. “Very well. And speaking of the Andromedons, I am not sure how well they will respond to the head of the Zararch, and an Ethereal they have likely never heard of.”

“Andromedons are dispassionate engineers,” Quisilia answered. “They respond well to logic, calculation, and reasonable explanations. Fectorian is ideally suited since he was the designer of the Spectres, which the Andromedons have taken issue with. You will be there to present the facts and solutions the Collective will be implementing. I trust you will be able to do this well.”

The Zar’Chon pursed his lips. “They will not be happy the Imperator is not there.”

“He may be,” Quisilia said. “But the Imperator is focused on other matters. The Federation can make all the threats they wish, but they are empty.”

Ravarian wasn’t convinced. “I am not certain about that. The Imperator has not been in the Collective. He does not know them as well as he thinks. Andromedons in the past would have gone to war for less.”

“I’ll mention that,” Quisilia sounded amused. “Do not take his lack of intervention for ignorance.”

“Then he should formally hand the Collective over to someone who will actually oversee it,” Ravarian kept his voice neutral, but he disliked the continuous insinuation that the Imperator somehow knew everything, but chose instead to be lazy. “It is fine if he has more important matters, but he should not claim to be something he is not.”

Quisilia was silent for a few moments. Ravarian doubted anything would happen, but it _was_ the first time he had verbally questioned the Imperator’s authority. But he wasn’t saying anything Quisilia hadn’t already glimpsed from his mind. “Good answer!” Quisilia finally said with a brief laugh. “Perhaps you can tell him that.”

Ravarian immediately stiffened. “The Imperator is coming here?”

“Here? No,” Quisilia shook his head. “But he will be speaking to you at some point. He has…come to some similar conclusions. There is a reason he is not standing in the way of the Battlemaster even if he could. While I can’t share the exact reasons he has been…absent…there are changes coming.”

He was both relieved to hear that, and mildly concerned about the Imperator taking a direct interest in him. He preferred his involvement with Ethereals to be kept to as few as possible. Beings of that power had to be treated carefully and clearly were above those like him. Having their most powerful focused on him was not exactly an honor or blessing.

But that he would not vocalize. “In that case, I look forward to their implementation.”

***

_Holding Cell 3, Holding Cells – Mars Collective Base_

_12/2/2016 – 1:16 P.M._

There were two kinds of holding cells the Disprium seemed to repeatedly employ.

The first were standard cells which seemed to lack even basic necessities, and were seemingly just large metal boxes. Considering that they were literally stored in racks, and each one had an oxygen supply, they were likely treated as a kind of resource or at best a form of isolated confinement. The Zar’Chon was looking into using them as a form of psychological interrogation.

The second kind of cells were somehow worse. From what Cogitian had been able to determine, there were two stages: The first involved the victim being taken to a room with a glass-like box in it. Once inside, they would be secured by the ankles, knees, waist, and upper chest. The restraints would be connected to another computer and be turned on, activating a stasis field around the victim.

Then IV tubes were threaded through the restraints and into the prisoner, and it was completed by fitting them with some kind of helmet which directly interfaced with the brain. It was theoretically supposed to keep them awake and active without requiring sleep. Cogitian hadn’t been able to confirm this, but was working on replicating it out of academic curiosity.

The second stage simply involved sticking the body in a coffin-like case, which also had an oxygen supply, and storing them in the vaults below the base. It was estimated that at the prime of this base, it could hold nearly five hundred prisoners stored like this.

Fortunately for the Hunter, the Collective had yet to recreate this form of imprisonment, and he had instead been thrown in one of the regular cells. The Battlemaster punched in the appropriate code and the cell door slid open, revealing the Hunter inside.

He appeared to be mostly recovered. He was bound at the wrists, ankles, and his head was secured to the wall via the neck. The Battlemaster clenched a fist and the restraints snapped. The Hunter smiled and slowly rose. “Battlemaster. Glad you decided to visit.”

“I have still not decided if I am going to kill you or not,” was the even reply. “Were you anyone else, the answer would be clear. But your connection to the Creator hinders this.”

“Ah, right,” the alien nodded sagely. “Assuming the Imperator doesn’t want the Creator distracted from her little projects. Trying to kill me would get her attention; much as we both despise each other.”

“The Imperator can make his recommendation,” the Battlemaster said, unclasping his sword and letting it hang by his side. “But I will make the final judgement.”

The Hunter did not seem overly concerned, simply throwing a sidelong glance at the silver weapon. “Oh no, death threats. Wow. Very convincing,” he heaved dramatically. “Battlemaster, what exactly are you going to do? Stab me? Cut off my limbs? You can’t kill me, and at this point I’m used to pain.” He gave a ghoulish smirk. “And you can’t do worse than what the bitch did when she was trying to figure out my limits.”

The cocky alien was suddenly lifted slightly into the air and pulled forward to be impaled on the pointed blade of the Battlemaster. Anchoring him in place with telekinesis, the Battlemaster slowly drove the blade deep into his chest until it reached the hilt. “Perhaps I can’t kill you this way,” he said quietly. “But you don’t like it. You still feel everything.”

“And you wonder how I could _possibly_ start shooting the mindless soldiers you order around,” he hissed, as the blood spread and dripped to the ground. “This isn’t exactly what inspires loyalty.”

“Everything you experience is a consequence of your actions,” the Battlemaster answered, turning the blade causing the Hunter to hiss. “You are a traitor, and I would prefer you were dealt with as one.”

“But you can’t do that, can you,” the Hunter taunted, breathing heavily. “You can’t risk making the bitch angry.”

If the Battlemaster was in the mood, he would have smiled. Instead he placed a free hand on the Hunter’s head, and began to apply pressure, while also telekinetically cracking his ribs to make it easier to remove the impaled sword. “Tell me, Hunter, if I were to crush your head, would you still come back?”

“Oh, I certainly will,” he rasped. “It’s not that easy. And it would be nicer than what you’re doing right now.”

It was almost a taunt. Perhaps a bluff. He was quite curious how badly the Hunter wanted him to avoid this outcome. “Curious. You would be exactly as you are, yes? Or would you… _change_?” He tightened his grip on the head. “I suspect that such a traumatic brain injury would change even you. That is an acceptable compromise, I believe.”

“Fuck you, Battlemaster,” the Hunter hissed, now sounding somewhat concerned. “Fine. What do you want? An apology?”

That was all he needed. Keeping the Hunter anchored in place he sliced his sword outward and released him, letting the Hunter fall into the pool of his own blood. “No,” the Battlemaster said. “No apology would be sincere from you. But if you ever participate in any action which undermines Collective operations, then I will ensure that your brain is smashed beyond recognition. If such actions fail, I will condemn you to the Dead World. You have no warnings or chances. Leave now. You are not permitted to return without my express permission.”

“Believe me,” the Hunter coughed, still on the ground. “I never want to see you again.”

“And when you return to the Creator, give her a message,” the Battlemaster said, turning away. “If a similar incident happens again, I will hold her personally responsible.”

All he received in return was a gurgled laugh. “I’ll make sure she gets the message.”

***

_Tactical Briefing Room, Solar System Command Center – Mars Collective Base_

_12/2/2016 – 3:19 P.M._

Having a firm presence on Mars was the first important step to take. The Battlemaster was expecting ADVENT would pursue space travel more aggressively at some point, and it was obviously not going to take much to drive the Collective out of the system if the only major installation they possessed was the Observation Station.

No, they needed to expand. There wasn’t a need to focus on Mercury or Venus, he could see very little of worth there, but definitely Mars, and establishing defenses before the Asteroid Belt and the edge of the system would be adequate. The conversion of Earth’s moon to an industrial hangar was proceeding well, and perhaps establishing a base on Pluto would also be advisable. The defenses didn’t need to be _too_ extensive, but not everything could rest on the observation station.

A hologram of the system itself was before him. The problem with maintaining control over a solar system was that it was so big. It was extremely difficult to fully secure, and in the event that Humans achieved an interstellar navy, he was not convinced that the defenses were completely sound.

Perhaps he should authorize the construction of larger Gateways. Even if Humans were unlikely to field Dreadnoughts, it would pulverize any fleet they _did_ develop.

Aegis once more threw a massive wrench into this. Any fleet Humanity wielded would be nearly invincible under his protection. In which case, the obvious counter was Deusian, though he hoped that the need for the Reaper would be unnecessary.

However, the Humans had a way of surprising him.

“Your plans are ambitious, but similar to what I had expected.”

The Battlemaster looked up in surprise as the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective stood in front of him, towering even over him.

“Imperator,” he greeted, inclining his head. In previous years he would have been more elaborate in his greeting, going so far as to fall to a knee in respect, as was traditional due for an Imperator or the Grandmaster. But times had changed, and the Imperator had made it clear he had little interest in that.

“Battlemaster,” was the answer, as the Imperator looked around, before focusing on the hologram of the Solar System. “You have been busy.”

“It is necessary,” he answered. “Considering both Aegis and the rapid advancements of the Humans, it is imperative that we take the needed steps to prepare for the worst.” He allowed a pause. “I presume you are here for a reason. You have not left the Temple Ship in…some time.”

“Yes,” the Imperator paced to the side, sounding thoughtful. “I have been focused on the Inner Galaxy, as well as those who inhabit it. However, it appears that I should begin returning to the Collective. It has not performed as hoped.”

“The reasons for such have been identified and are being fixed,” the Battlemaster replied tactfully. “I will restore stability to the Collective-”

“There is little need to mince words,” the Imperator lifted one of his ornately detailed gauntlets. “You are displeased with my leadership. While I cannot read your mind or emotions, I understand how you think, and Quisilia is diligent in reporting your words. In this case, it is perhaps deserved.”

That was refreshing to hear. The Imperator was no fool, which was why the Battlemaster had become more frustrated with him in recent months. The Imperator was smarter than he was, yet seemed to often make questionable or simply wrong decisions. “I am pleased to hear that. But both of us are in agreement that words are nothing without action.”

“Indeed.” The Imperator turned to him. “The presence of a Sovereign One Earth is now your priority. Maintain the war with the Humans, but that is the true danger on Earth.”

“The Sovereign One should be dealt with after the Humans are taken care of,” the Battlemaster disputed. “By directly attacking him we will likely force him to ally more openly with the Humans. That is not an ideal outcome.”

The Imperator was silent for a few moments. “Very well. I will have another coordinate the strategy for the Sovereign One. I also believe it is time you are aware of some of what I have done and am planning.”

“It would be appreciated.”

“I will be removing Patricia Trask from the equation in the immediate future,” the Imperator said. “She will be returned to the Temple Ship, and I will speak to her. I am confident I can convince her to be cooperative.”

The Battlemaster stared at the Imperator in disbelief. “Imperator, what exactly are you thinking?”

“I am thinking in the long term,” he answered. “It makes little sense to discard Trask. Not when I know she can be turned to us.”

“And what happens if she can’t?” He demanded. “And you know this will invite retaliation from XCOM.”

“Then she will be released and the next time she appears, she will die,” the Imperator answered. “But I am confident that she will be more useful to us alive than dead. Having one such as her openly allied with us will break the morale of the Humans and hasten their defeat.”

“No,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “You would not take such a risk for such a questionable reason. And you will certainly not let her go if she refuses to… _work_ with us.”

“Yes, I will,” the Imperator stated, looking directly at him. “When I give my word, Battlemaster, I mean it. You would be, of course, free to kill her later. But it will not be until she safely returns to XCOM.” A pause. “Revelean has made significant progress on the Avatar Project. Patricia Trask will be important to see it completed. That time is approaching.”

Having made himself familiar with the details of the Avatar Project some time ago, he knew _exactly_ what the Imperator was suggesting. “You are not serious.”

“I am completely serious,” the Imperator answered flatly. “And I think you agree.”

“ _Her?”_

“Yes.”

The Battlemaster was not sure what to say at that moment. Even for the Imperator his implication was nigh-unfathomable. But then again…the Imperator was rather open-minded as far as Ethereals went. As much as it would take some getting used to, he had to concede that that the Avatar Project would only be successful with Humans.

Which meant that the Imperator had also likely found others. “She is not the only one, is she?”

“I see you are aware of the implication,” the Imperator nodded approvingly. “No, she was not. Sicarius has also found one, as have the Overmind and Deusian.”

That was surprising. “How did Deusian manage to do that?”

“With help.”

The Imperator was being extremely helpful here. He would have to speak to her. From what he understood of the Avatar Project, it was not something that was lightly undertaken. “I have also taken the liberty of assisting for your own.”

“No.” The Battlemaster flatly disputed. “I have no interest in participating in the Avatar Project, nor would it work for me.”

“Revelean disagrees,” the Imperator countered. “But even if you discount that aspect, I believe it would be a benefit towards some larger Human integration. The future for our species and the Humans will be close, and it does not hurt to begin that relationship early.”

His immediate reaction was to dismiss the Imperator’s words. But at the same time, he had a point, and he would not bring this up without some kind of desired outcome. “Fine,” he relented. “Who have you found? What is his name?”

“Not ‘his’ name. Hers.”

***

_Training Arena – Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_12/3/2016 – 12:00 P.M._

He was here.

The presence of the Imperator was the equivalent of a sun to a psion. She could only imagine what it was like for a telepath.

Interesting. He hadn’t actually shown up to see her fight for some time. And honestly, she didn’t really use these training sessions for anything more than a means of refinement and a way to relax. The days where she actually felt challenged by them were long-since passed, especially now that she had some help.

_“The arena forces you will face today will likely be a mixture of Mutons, Berserkers, and a high probability of one to two compromised Zararch agents.”_

Yang Shuren, current resident of the Temple Ship, crossed her arms as she briefly considered what her Praetorian friend said. “And when you say ‘high probability’ that means…?”

_“Between sixty and ninety percent probability,”_

“And you base this on?”

_“Zararch logs indicate four agents have recently been compromised by the Nulorian and other factors. Two have been fully interrogated and are awaiting execution. The remaining two are in various stages of interrogation.”_

At times she forgot she was talking to what was widely considered the most idiotic species in the Collective. Then again, 042 was not an ordinary Muton. It was like…comparing modern Humans to Neanderthals. Or apes. The difference was so vast they might as well be completely different species. “Thanks 042. Expected numbers?”

_“You have requested the highest available setting. Expect between fifteen to twenty.”_

She nodded to herself. Reasonable numbers, and the arena was only so large. “If there are Zararch, what races?”

_“Those being held are three Vitakarians and one Dath’Haram. They are unlikely to have been genetically enhanced.”_

She snorted. Even if they were, she could easily kill them. The trouble with any kind of non-Muton was that they typically fought smarter and with more intensity. Still, she disliked killing them. They reminded her too much of Humans.

_“Are you prepared to begin?”_

“One more thing,” she said, not really expecting a straight answer as she walked into the center of the area. “Why is the Imperator here?”

There was a noticeable pause. _“The Imperator has not made himself known to me. Previous encounters suggest he will allow you to complete your challenge before speaking. There is a moderate probability he will provide assistance to opposing forces.”_

Damn it. She did not really want to play the Imperator’s mind games at the moment. Or maybe it was simpler and he just wanted to watch her kill something. Initially she’d assumed he’d wanted her to be some kind of psionic weapon, but she wasn’t really convinced of that any longer. Not that she would have had much of a problem with it, but she’d figured out that he wasn’t the type to invest in something so…mundane.

He wanted a _tactician_. Someone to perhaps compliment the Battlemaster.

That realization had certainly illuminated why she’d managed to get his attention over the others.

She was looking forward to seeing President Qin’s face as she told him who she was, right before killing him.

Such was the way of life.

 _“I must call into question your lack of proper protection,”_ 042 interjected. _“When facing this many opponents, one shot could severely hurt you.”_

Yang smiled as she rubbed her bare forearms. “042, how much does this lower my chances of surviving?”

 _“Four percent_.”

“Exactly. Start it.”

The arena was fairly large, with four solid gate openings at opposite ends of each other. It was comparable to one of the American Football fields, although those were rectangular, not circular. The metal was just a drab grey, but the overhead ceiling caught the attention of most who saw it for the first time. From what she understood, it depicted a space battle for some world, battling an enemy the Imperator called the Synthesized.

It was rather beautiful, in a stained-glass sort of way. Very distracting initially, but she was used to it by now.

“[Come on,]” she said quietly to herself as she drew upon the power. “[Let’s give a show.]”

The gates slowly rose and Yang raised her hands in preparation. Knowing the standard tactics of Berserkers…if such a word could be applied to them, meant that…ah, here it was. One of the red-armored beasts charged forward, metallic blades gleaming in the light. Three of them. Unusual, and all coming from different gates.

Immediately multiple counters came to her mind, but she first settled on the easiest ones. She twisted both her wrists and was rewarded with the sound of the legs snapping of the two Berserkers to the side, and with a motion she caught the oncoming Berserker in a telekinetic grab, then lifted it into the air.

They just never learned.

The standard Mutons were coming out now, plasma rifles raised, and she thrust her left hand out and yanked, ripping the rifles from the hands of four of the aliens, while squeezing her right hand into a fist, compressing the hovering Berserker. That complete, she tossed the mangled heap of metal and flesh towards a trio of Mutons.

_“There are three enemies behind you taking aim.”_

Without looking, Yang sent a telekinetic blast behind her and dashed towards the unarmed Mutons, sending more flying back with telekinesis. Green plasma flashed behind her, and in retaliation she picked up one of the hapless Mutons and threw them with terminal force towards their offending brethren.

She summoned one of the rifles to her hands, executed two of the Mutons on the ground before discarding it, and snapped the neck of one of the still-surviving berserkers. How many were still alive? Six? No Vitakara either yet, though they might have been biding their time.

Well, she might as well have some fun since they were proving to be even easier than expected. Walking slowly towards the group of Mutons she had previously blasted back, she encased them in her telekinetic grip, though decided to focus the pressure on their heads. She clearly misjudged her strength as instead of a slow compression, they simply turned to yellow explosions.

Disappointed, she tossed their corpses towards the other few Mutons still alive. She was about to turn away when she heard something on the edge of her perception, and 042 confirmed it immediately. _“Hostile behind you.”_

She jumped forward, twisting as she sent out a telekinetic blast behind her, and it just barely missed a Dath’Haram who also leapt out of the way. In his hand was a thin red-coated blade. A trained Bladedancer then, and if he was from the Zararch, a _real_ one. She smiled. Time to see what he could do.

“Do you really think you can win?” She asked smugly, gesturing to the pile of corpses around her as the Dath’Haram began circling her, eyeing her with a predatory gaze. To punctuate the point she snapped the neck of the last living Berserker, and threw the corpse towards the Vitakara. He slid under it and dashed towards her with surprising speed.

She could see where he was aiming, and as he leapt towards her, she lifted a hand and he froze; suspended as she looked to where the poisoned blade would have landed. “Almost there,” she chided quietly, as the look in his eyes turned to terror as she stepped so close that the blade almost touched the chest it had been aimed for. “The heart. Vital. Important. But see, that only works when your opponent _can’t_ throw you around with her mind.”

Yang tapped her head with a smile. “You should have aimed for the head.”

With that she telekinetically ripped the blade from his hands and stabbed the alien through the eye, then released him as he dropped to the floor with a thud. Placing a boot on the corpse, she withdrew the blade and flourished it briefly as she set out to kill what few were still alive. She’d always liked swords, and while the Dath’Haram were usually a bunch of idiot pacifists, they sure made exceptional weapons.

 _“All enemies are confirmed dead,”_ 042 confirmed as she executed the last wounded Muton. _“Elapsed time was four minutes and fifty-two seconds. It is your sixth-fastest run on these parameters, out of a total of twelve.”_

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically. While 042 was helpful, he and all of his kind always felt the need to constantly state statistics and records as if she really cared about that. What she really cared about was refining her own abilities, and that just wasn’t shown in the data 042 liked to reference so much.

But he either hadn’t picked up on her sarcasm, or, more likely, he was aware she found it grating and did it anyway. Cheeky grunt.

“You have improved much,” the Imperator’s voice immediately attracted her attention, as it always did. She turned to see him standing a few feet from her. Teleported most likely. The sensation was almost overwhelming, even if she’d gotten better at controlling herself. But it was near-impossible to overcome the warm and adoring feeling that washed over her, leaving her a sightless puppet.

While it had felt great at the time, she hated how it felt later.

With effort, she shook her head to focus. “Thanks. Almost thought you’d forgotten me here. We haven’t talked in some time.”

“I’ve been…occupied,” the Imperator answered, beginning to pace. “This is no longer challenging to you.” It was not a question.

“Not especially.”

“Good. You were not supposed to stay here forever. I see you have made a…friend in Praetorian 042.”

She shrugged. “He has been helpful, surprising as that is.”

“And you have taken a growing interest in war games, if Cogitian is to be believed.”

“Are you getting to a point?”

“Your patience needs improvement,” he said, raising a finger. “But yes, I am. The Battlemaster will be arriving at a point in the near future. Given your unique background and skills, I believe you would be an ideal…partner…to him. However, I will say he is not entirely convinced of the merit of such. You will need to show him.”

Partner?

She raised an eyebrow. “That is…more than I was expecting. I figured you’d want me to fight on Earth, not, ah, _work_ with the Battlemaster of all Ethereals. Given what Cogitian has said about him, he doesn’t really do the apprentice-slash-partner thing.”

“You have not seen it, but he has taken on such in the past,” the Imperator said. “Disciples they were called. Both are long dead. I suspect the notion has not even entered his mind, but even he looks at his options from the perspective of one of the Empire. The times have changed, and we must look outside our species for worthy partners in our goals.”

Yang crossed her arms. “And you want me to essentially be a surrogate Ethereal. Taking a role your kind would have had.”

“A crude analogy, but not necessarily incorrect,” was the answer. “But I suppose the question is if you believe you can achieve this, or if you want it in the first place.”

“I can certainly do it,” she stated with confidence. “I was just…surprised this was your end goal.”

“I do not need a simple weapon, Miss Shuren,” the Imperator said with a dismissive wave. “You can be more than that. Your potential is one I won’t throw away.”

Yang could never really figure out how the Imperator really saw her. He always sounded like he cared, even when he often referred to her in terms of a resource. But for someone who thought in that scale…she supposed it could be worse. “Then I guess I’d better prepare. He’s going to challenge me to fight, isn’t he.”

The Imperator considered that. “Most likely, and you will lose. All you must do is fight intelligently, and that will be enough for him.”

Which translated to “You’re going to lose, but at least try not to die in a few seconds.”

Fair enough.

“Alright,” she looked at the discarded Dath’Haram blade and recalled it to her hand. “I have a lot of studying to do.”

***

_Grand Chambers, Hive 001 – Helion-7_

_12/6/2016 – 1:11 P.M._

And he was back here once again. The Hive Commanders, although not quite as…vocal about the recent developments as the Andromedons or Vitakara, had their own means of expressing their displeasure. Namely summoning the most influential and dangerous Hive Commanders at the Hive of 001.

It was for all intents and purposes, a trial, if not sentencing.

001 was certainly going to be hostile, but it was not necessarily a guarantee that the situation would go badly. The Sectoids had released few questions, but had insisted repeatedly on having Ethereals answer them. Curiously they had not requested the Imperator, though given the allegations about the tampering presumably ordered by him, it might be a subtle way of indicating he was not welcome.

It worked for him. The Battlemaster was not a diplomat, but neither were the Sectoids. The reason Revelean was at his side now was because out of them all, the geneticist was the one who could most relate to the species. If all went well, there would hopefully be a more firm scientific relationship established.

“The aliens are probing me,” Revelean commented with some amusement as they walked down the gleaming white halls to the main chambers, even as they attracted the looks of the various drones and armored Vanguards who were quietly following them. “Poor technique. They are fortunate I do not wish conflict today.”

“No fighting today,” the Battlemaster agreed quietly as they approached the entrance. “They pose little threat to us, regardless.”

They both stepped into the Grand Chambers of Hive Commander 001, which was a massive amphitheater-like room, with a domed white roof which was no surprise as this was at the top of the Hive. However, it did actually appear that the room was indeed filled to capacity with Hive Commanders and Vanguard bodyguards.

It wasn’t the entirety of the Hive Commanders, but far more than he had anticipated.

Hundreds of pairs of golden bulbous eyes glared down upon both of them, and what made it more unnerving was that Hive Commanders looked very similar. Unlike the lesser Sectoids there was some variance in them, slight differences in height, girth, and cybernetics, but in a mass of orange and black, that distinction was harder to make.

The center of the room contained six elevated stands, inhabited by other Hive Commanders who were likely the limited few who were speaking to them. Fortunately they had their designations displayed on holographic projections before themselves. Unsurprisingly 001 was at the forefront, or at least who they were facing.

To his left was 029, and he was unsurprised to see the diplomat Hive Commander make an appearance. To the right was Hive Commander 666, which was interesting considering he was one of the few non-Helion-7 Hive Commanders, and primarily focused on terraforming and ship production on Olganar-2.

Continuing from 666, there were Hive Commanders 007, the closest thing the Hive Commanders had to an information collector and intelligence keeper; 100, a Hive Commander focused on cybernetic augmentation of Sectoids; and 099, who primarily specialized in experiments on psionically-sensitive aliens.

Not to mention there were hundreds of other Hive Commanders watching them. The only time the Battlemaster could recall this many in one place was the initial meeting between the Ethereals and Hive Commanders.

Once they reached the center of the circle, all six of the Hive Commander questioners rose. _Ethereals Revelean and Battlemaster_ , 029 began, the telepathic voice sounding more intense than usual. Probably to reach the entirety of the room. _You have been summoned to answer in regards to the information produced by Ethereal Aegis, as well as your failure to properly inform the Greater Hive Commanders about the reality of the situation on Earth._

 _We have expended significant resources on your war_ , 001 said, voice dangerously calm. _Resources which were used in the service of a lie. There must be consequences._

“They were not expended in a lie,” the Battlemaster stated. “The objective has always been the capture of Earth.”

 _You knew of the Ethereal Aegis_ , 001 said, his voice close to the equivalent of a Sectoid growl. _Your mission was to draw him out and kill him. The goals are irrelevant. You failed to inform us of the situation. Explain to us now why._

“A matter of not escalating the situation,” the Battlemaster explained carefully. “As you have seen…Aegis is skilled and dangerous. He had not revealed himself and seemed to have resigned himself to providing verbal assistance and support. He is no tactician, and has likely convinced the Humans to take a less-escalatory approach.”

“It is important to understand, honored Hive Commanders,” Revelean continued, stepping forward. “That Aegis, for all his power, is a mere novice in the art of war, and ultimately did not desire this conflict. Had we revealed his existence, many would have simply wished to destroy Earth from orbit in terror. The Federation in particular would have demanded extensive military action, and as a consequence, Aegis would have been far more involved than he is now. By taking the unfortunate step of withholding this information, we have ensured that we have a foothold on Earth uncompromised by the less civilized aspects of the Collective who do not take into account the consequences of such actions.”

The Battlemaster resisted the urge to look towards Revelean in surprise. He was a…surprisingly diplomatic speaker. “This is correct, Hive Commanders. It was a tactical move which allowed us to gauge Human defenses, tactics, and establish our own presence on Earth. The escalation that would have no doubt followed had we revealed this might have denied us even these victories.”

 _This answer I find acceptable,_ 007 said, ‘speaking’ for the first time. _However, such actions should be reconsidered in the future. Information of this magnitude is rarely justifiable to keep from the Greater Hive Commanders. As the first of the Ethereal Collective, we are entitled to such information, even if you must hide it from the Federation or Aui’Vitakar._

“Both the Imperator and I agree that such information will not be hidden in the future,” the Battlemaster said. “However, withholding information from some, but not others is not possible.”

“Consider, honored Hive Commanders, the ramifications of such a proposal,” Revelean stepped forward. “As the leaders of the Ethereal Collective, showing favoritism to one side or another would be counter to the goals of unity we have for all the species within it. While we can privately agree that some may handle certain information better, what is the case if another finds out? It could lead to a schism of the Collective as a whole, and lead to countless deaths. You must also consider if we withhold information from your own kind? Would you truly understand?”

“We have been deliberately neutral with your quiet feud with the Federation,” the Battlemaster said. “It is for this very reason. Both the Greater Hive Commanders and Andromedon Federation are focusing on what is not important.”

 _No._ 001 stated flatly and angrily. _The Federation desires our eradication. They spy and threaten us. They have become a noted threat to the Greater Hive Commanders. If you wish to broach this subject, we will do it. The Ethereals must put the Andromedon Federation in check, and ensure they do not threaten our expansion, production, or experimentation again.”_

“The Andromedon Federation will not attack the Greater Hive Commanders,” the Battlemaster promised. “On that you have my word. None of us desire such a conflict.”

 _Words._ 001 said with a wave. _Promises. Neither I, nor any here, have forgotten the accusations Aegis revealed to the world. That you supposedly dared to twist our minds to serve you. There is only one way to answer such actions. You will bring the Overmind here, and let us look into his memories to determine the truth of this. We will not be manipulated against our will, and if it is true, we demand you will allow us to execute him._

 _If you do not follow these demands,_ 029 said slowly. _I am afraid that the Greater Hive Commanders will formally leave the Ethereal Collective. I am sure you can understand the necessity of such demands, and the ease of which they can be proven false._

This was what he was afraid of. He was not sure how well the Hive Commanders would take him saying he would ‘have to speak to the Imperator’. He was quite aware the Overmind would be mildly amused at such a proposal, and never follow through. It was something of a conundrum right now. Revelean stepped forward, surprisingly raising a hand, though his voice was somehow amused.

“Honored Hive Commanders, we can of course agree to these reasonable requests,” he said. “Though first please consider the claims which Aegis puts forward. He has stated – in no uncertain terms – that our Overmind managed to not affect the minds of Hive Commander 001, 029, and the others he initially spoke too, but _every single_ Hive Commander in the Collective. And this went unnoticed by all.”

Revelean shook his head. “We are under no illusions as to the strength and skill of the Greater Hive Commanders. You were powerful when we met, and have only improved yourself, with a skill in genetic manipulation which rivals our own. Indulge my own curiosity – do you truly believe such a claim is possible?”

That was…an interesting twisting of the question. Flat out lying to the Collective was not something he had really considered. But Revelean had clearly had a plan coming in, and it made the Battlemaster somewhat suspicious. But now it was on the Hive Commanders to answer.

 _I have seen all manner of psionic specimens,_ 099 mused. _Your kind are more powerful than we are. But to the extent Aegis has proposed is…questionable. It is one proposal to dominate the minds of a lesser planet, but to do so in the presence of all Hive Commanders does not seem feasible without at least one detecting the manipulation._

 _Then examining his memories will show that,_ 001 said bluntly. _This changes nothing._

 _In that instance,_ 099 said, directly addressing 001. _If we are truly dealing with a psion of such power and skill, there is little to prevent us from succumbing to a repeat._

“The question that needs to be asked,” Revelean said. “Is how much you believe the word of one who has turned his back on his own kind in favor of protecting aliens. If you wish to continue this line of proof, then we will oblige, but it suggests to us that your own skills are…lesser than we have anticipated.”

 _I have little desire for an answer,_ 666 interjected. _We have benefitted from our alliance with the Ethereals, and arguing about the past is pointless. Even if such claims were true, we are no longer under such manipulation. I am more concerned about how the Ethereals will address the Federation, and their true plans for the Humans._

At least this was a situation he could properly address. “You are concerned with being replaced.”

 _You are expending far more energy on this species than any other before,_ 001 pointed out. _You have clear plans for them. We demand to know what they are._

“They are requiring more resources because they are fighting,” the Battlemaster answered slowly. “And unlike previous species in this situation, they are intelligent, resourceful, psionically sensitive, and have the support of an Ethereal traitor. There are many reasons why they require more direct attention.”

_Answer the question._

“I can certainly confirm we are not planning to replace the Greater Hive Commanders,” the Battlemaster said. “Your species provides the Collective with ships, soldiers, and resources. While such an action would not only cause a conflict, it is a logistical impossibility. We intend for humanity to be integrated into the Collective as previous species have been, a task which will be far easier once Earth is secure. We would not, and never have planned to simply discard a cooperative species of the Ethereal Collective.”

 _As should be expected,_ 029 nodded. _Such a proposal should be considered paranoia. Yet I believe all parties could agree that the…involvement of the Ethereals has been lacking. While you have made efforts, Battlemaster, I believe those should be expanded beyond the military._

“One reason I have accompanied the Battlemaster today,” Revelean said. “The Greater Hive Commanders have some of the finest scientists in this galaxy, and it is past time the Collective has a dedicated centralization of such experiments and knowledge. I have been gifted the privilege of overseeing such work, which will of course not interfere in your personal projects, but provide all in the Collective the opportunity to work together to improve it, regardless of species or specialization.”

 _An effort which can be supported._ 099 looked to the other Hive Commanders. _The Ethereals have made mistakes. However, they appear to make efforts to repair the damage they have caused. I propose we allow them to work to achieve this._

 _As do I,_ 029 interjected. _The words of a traitor Ethereal should not collapse such a long-standing alliance._

001 glared down at the Ethereals. _Very well. We shall see if your actions follow your words. This gathering is adjourned._

All of the Hive Commanders sat back down.

That had gone much better than he expected.

And because of that, he was suspicious. Glancing to the noticeably smug Revelean, he would definitely have some questions for the Imperator later. But for now, the Hive Commanders were placated. That would have to do.

***

_Union Chambers, Federation Command – Andromeda Prime_

_12/6/2016 – 12:00 P.M._

The amount of times Ravarian could say that he had actually been in Federation Space could be counted on one hand. The amount of times he had actually visited the capital world of the Federation was approximately twice, the first to establish some kind of relationship with the Federation itself, and the second time to acquaint himself with intelligence gathered on the city.

Andromeda Prime was the closest thing to a homeworld the Andromedons had. For a homeworld though, it was surprisingly sparse. There was one major city, which was formally Federation land, and then there were small installations distributed all across the planet managed by the various Unions. Federation Command managed land distribution, but otherwise there was no formal ‘law’ the Unions had to abide by. There were implied suggestions and consequences, but hard and firm law within the Federation was exceptionally rare.

The ones that were implanted were simple and straightforward:

The creation of Special Operators was illegal.

Any and all Union disputes were to be brought before Federation Command.

Any action taken against the Federation would result in the offending individuals and Unions being completely destroyed.

Ravarian had always found it interesting that Special Operators were banned, but the Federation maintained the program regardless. Probably as a final failsafe to take action against Unions that threatened stability. And the Ethereals certainly had some hand in the project – although the details he was somewhat murky on.

The only thing he knew for certain was that the Special Operators fell within Union Omega, which was completely unknown to everyone but Chief Overseer Chernior. For a fairly mild Andromedon, Ravarian was surprised he seemed to continually be expanding it every year. Curious, but given the growing tensions between the Federation and Hive Commanders, perhaps it was as simple as it looked.

Still, he would have thought that the Andromedons would at least have some appreciation for aesthetics. Federation Command was one of the most utilitarian and dull worlds he had visited. The species had an obsession with cubes and based pretty much everything off them. Buildings were straight rectangles, sharp angles dominated what little aesthetics they bothered with, and it was so symmetrically designed it was disturbing.

Andromedon cities were designed on square patches, and they built in the inverse. The outer layers would typically be defenses of some kind, then there would be a ring of houses, perhaps intermixed with an even number of shops (Which sold the exact same things), another ring of defenses, and so on until it reached the centerpiece, which was the only unique non-copied thing in the city itself.

From what Ravarian knew about Andromedon culture, for acquiring different resources, foods, and so on, you had to go to the appropriate Union’s territory. The layout would generally be the same, but what was inside it would be different. There really was no all-purpose shop, as Federation Command only had basic necessities. For weapons, clothing, or even fuel, he would have to go to another Union’s territory.

He was quite thankful he didn’t actually live here.

Not just because he couldn’t breathe the air.

The full-body suit he had to wear wasn’t especially uncomfortable, but the HUD wasn’t that great at seeing that far into the yellow mist that permeated the city. He could see a short distance ahead, but not much further. Going inside buildings was better, but they still pumped it inside them so there was always a yellow-tinged view.

However, this _was_ one of the places where one could see Andromedons in their natural habitat, without the suits. The species itself was fairly unremarkable, and ironically resembled Sectoids in many ways. Their skin was a deep grey, their physiology was fairly weak, and they almost never wore actual clothes.

With that said, there were obvious differences. The average Andromedon stood nearly as tall as a Vitakarian, their diamond-shaped heads were proportional to their bodies, and every single one of them walked on two legs, not scampering around on all fours. Their thin mouths also set them apart, and they certainly sounded less deep without their suits.

With that said, it wasn’t uncommon to see Andromedons lumber around in their suits. It seemed to typically be military that kept them on, and the civilians who went without.

Fectorian seemed to find the city fascinating though, and had been verbally making what Ravarian could only assume was random comments. The Ethereal was certainly… different than many he had spoken to. He didn’t seem to particularly care much about the Collective per-se, but was especially eager to be apparently let off the chain to do things.

Having been shown some of his work, Ravarian was wondering just where the hell he had been for this entire situation. The Ethereal was brilliant, and did have a very…excitable personality when it came to subjects he was passionate about. He was no diplomat, but that was likely what the Battlemaster had sent him for.

“You’ve never been here before,” Ravarian commented as Fectorian took a look at one of the general electronic part shops, with the Andromedon overseeing the store watching in disbelief.

“Andromeda Prime? Never,” Fectorian swiftly turned away and kept walking to the Union Chamber. “Little time; I have been very occupied with other projects. They are an intelligent species, and I have always intended to see their cities. Efficient and clean, I approve.”

The Andromedons in front of the Union Chambers moved in front of the door upon their approach. These were in their suits and towered over him, and were at least equal to Fectorian in size. “State your authorization.” Ravarian suspected that the only reason they were being difficult was because the Federation didn’t especially like the Ethereals at the moment.

He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why they were here, and not the Imperator.

“Zar’Chon’ravarian’vitiary of the Zararch, and Engineer Fectorian of the Ethereals,” Ravarian answered. “And we both know that this is not a surprise.”

The Andromedon didn’t say anything, but stepped aside as the door slid open. Fectorian took the initiative and began walking further, Ravarian following close behind as the door closed behind them. Given that there was only one long, bare hallway, he assumed it would lead directly to the central chamber.

Once they stepped into the shining white light, Ravarian could see he was correct. The design was just as utilitarian as the rest of Andromedon architecture, which was a small square depression where they would presumably stand, and there was a higher row which went around the perimeter, with sections for each Union leader to inhabit.

This ascended for five rows, with the yellow mist making it difficult to see the upper levels. But in the grand scheme, the only Unions that mattered were the ones in the first row. Some of them were wearing their suits, while others were not. On the second row there was a brief extension which housed the Chief Overseer of the Andromedon Federation, Chernior, who was wearing his suit.

There were no guards or automated systems Ravarian could see, but he knew they existed thanks to Zararch reports, and there were plenty of suited and unsuited Andromedons who held some kind of plasma or laser weapon. Starting a fight was certainly not advised, and there were likely Federation soldiers just waiting to be deployed.

Here went nothing.

“Zar’Chon, Ethereal Fectorian,” Chernior’s voice boomed through the Chambers. “You stand before the assembled Unions of the Andromedon Federation. You are to provide answers to any member of this body; the Federation is fully prepared to divest itself from the Ethereal Collective if the answers received are not satisfactory. Is this understood?”

“Yes, Chief Overseer,” Ravarian answered. “We will answer them to the best of our ability.”

“The Unions may begin presenting questions,” Chernior stated. “A’Intellior, of Union Apear.”

An Andromedon with what appeared to be a cybernetic left arm rose, and further inspection noted that there were clear implants around his head. “The development of the Spectre unit has raised significant concerns. Not only with how the unit operates, but also because none in the Federation were informed such a project existed, let alone was near deployment. On behalf of the Federation we demand that you provide an answer to why we were not informed, and an independent examination of the Spectre itself.”

“As the one who created the Spectre, I can certainly assure you that there are appropriate failsafes to prevent uncontrolled spread,” Fectorian said, lifting a hand. “Prior to deployment, Spectres are programmed with very specific parameters, which they cannot override under any circumstances. At any time all Spectres can be disabled remotely by an owner, and will automatically self-destruct if they detect they are acting outside their parameters. There is no risk of Spectres being hacked or turned against the Collective.”

“We will also allow specific members of the Andromedon Federation to examine the schematics themselves, as well as request demonstrations,” Ravarian added. “The Federation must submit a list of qualified individuals and it will be processed as soon as possible. Is this acceptable?”

“It is a start,” A’Intellior said. “And what of failing to inform us?”

“Just as your Unions do not inform the Collective as to every single project, neither do I,” Fectorian stated. “I designed a weapon and thought little more of it when the Battlemaster wished to deploy it. However, I am now more cognizant of your need to be informed on more dangerous projects, and steps will be taken to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Indeed,” Ravarian nodded. “Ethereal Fectorian will, after the conclusion of this gathering, be officially initiating a centralized Collective Engineering and Development branch. All major projects of the Collective will no longer be done by individual species, but as a collaborative effort overseen by Fectorian himself. This is to prevent such situations from arising again, and to allow concerns and feedback to be given during development.”

There was some muttering and rasps of filters as the Andromedons discussed that among themselves. Ravarian hadn’t thought they would be getting to this immediately, but it certainly couldn’t make things worse. As far as questions went, this was one they were able to handle easily. “J’Vailan,” Chernior said. “Of Union Jamoiar.”

A very plain Andromedon stood. “It is one thing to say this will not happen again for weapons projects. But you also kept the knowledge of an Ethereal defector from us. This is important information to know. If such is kept from us, then how can we trust there is not more you have neglected to tell us?”

“I can assure you that there are no more traitor Ethereals,” Ravarian began. “It was a complicated matter-“

“I want to hear it from the Ethereal,” J’Vailan interrupted. “Not you.”

“Aegis disagreed with the direction of the war,” Fectorian sounded highly disinterested. “I am not aware of the details, but he was growing disillusioned with the Imperator, and in a drastic move, even for him, left. We have not considered it more than him making the equivalent of a statement to us. His actual appearance in the war was not expected.”

“You were a fool to believe that, Ethereal,” J’Vailan said. “That does not explain why you did not immediately inform the Federation so we could account for this.”

“Because there isn’t a reason you would be satisfied with,” Fectorian crossed his arms. “I suspect it had to do with placating Aegis. If we forced him out, the situation would be worse. We did not want to provoke him unnecessarily. This was an internal matter the Imperator did not want to become public unless necessary, and if that sounds unreasonable, I suspect that you do not inform the Federation of every internal Union dispute.”

“Your kind are not comparable,” J’Vailan insisted. “Ethereals are not like us. Your kind have highly destructive and dangerous powers. This is in no way comparable to an internal Union problem, especially when it involves other species.”

“This was a mistake we learned from,” Fectorian shrugged. “We can avoid it in the future. But suggesting that the logic is not able to be followed is absurd and does not reflect well on your reasoning capabilities.”

“You would do well not to insult us, Ethereal.”

“It is only an insult if you believe it to be so. Your species is intelligent, which is why I know you can understand the reasoning of the Imperator, even if you do not agree with it.”

J’Vailan did not appear to be happy with that, but didn’t immediately respond for a few moments. “Is the Imperator deliberately holding information of this level of magnitude?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Fectorian said.

“But you do not know.”

“No,” Fectorian said. “I am not always included in the Imperator’s inner circle. He may be keeping his secrets, and most assuredly is. However, neither I nor the Zar’Chon or Battlemaster are aware of such.”

“This is why we requested the Imperator,” J’Vailan said, looking to address the other Union members. “We will not get satisfactory answers regarding this from an underling. Your kind have failed to do as you promised. The only one who has even made an attempt has been the Battlemaster, but I fail to see why the Federation should acquiesce to the will of the Ethereals when your leader does not bother to show himself.”

Fectorian considered that. “Such a move would not be wise.”

“The situation is frustrating, we all agree,” Ravarian quickly interjected before anyone could respond to Fectorian’s _highly questionable_ comment. “However, the Ethereals are realizing that more direct leadership is needed. It is why they are taking a more involved role, along with the Battlemaster, to put forth a more united and strong Collective.”

“Then prove it,” J’Vailan essentially spat. “Not I, nor many of the other Unions, are interested in dedicating resources to your spat with a traitor Ethereal. If you actually consider this an ‘internal matter’, then you clearly do not need Federation support. Furthermore, your incompetence on Earth has not gone unnoticed. Ethereal or not, you have been recently and constantly beaten by a species who is inexplicably advancing _faster_ than you are.”

“The strategy towards dealing with the Humans is being reworked-“ Ravarian began.

“No.” The suited figure of S’Starina stood. “You have treated the Humans with far too much leniency. It is only a matter of time before they master space travel and begin their expansion. Your soldiers are ill-disciplined, idiotic, and easily broken. Your machines are little more than targets for the Humans. Your tactics are simple enough that a child could counter them. I will not support a Collective which does not treat war as a serious matter. I will not send my soldiers to fight for your Ethereals, not when led by such incompetent leaders.”

“Yes, because your soldiers would certainly do better,” Fectorian answered back, surprisingly sarcastic. “The Collective military is quite flawed, any reasonable being agrees, and is in the process of reformation. But to suggest your people would fare as well or better is equally questionable. You, like we have, underestimate the Humans. That was our mistake, and it will be yours as well.”

Fectorian clasped his lower hands together as he held a holoprojector in his right upper one. “But that will change. We adapt, as we always have. There are projects in place which will demonstrate the superiority of the Collective,” the holoprojector flashed through several different projects. Ravarian only recognized the Executor, Archon, and Custodian models, but there were a few he didn’t recognize. “There is no more playing nice with the Humans,” Fectorian finished. “But if you wish to hide while this is done, your Union is certainly welcome.”

“Then you will be fighting with the intent to win?” S’Starina asked.

“I can confirm that is the case,” Ravarian said. “Any restrictions that the Imperator wished are gone. Whatever he wished to learn from the Humans, he did. It is our job to bring Earth under the control of the Ethereal Collective.”

“And why-“

Anything the Andromedon was going to say was cut off as Ravarian tangibly felt the atmosphere of the room change. He felt stronger; his purpose clearer. He had been around enough Ethereals to know what was going on, but this was a completely different experience that he could only think of one it could belong to.

The air in the middle of the chamber shimmered and out stepped the largest Ethereal that Ravarian had ever seen. Clad in gleaming and ornate armor, with a billowing golden cape, and an upside-down triangular helmet, he was tall enough to be eye level with the second row. Ravarian immediately fell to one knee in an immediate sign of submission. With the arrival of the Imperator, there could be no risks taken.

Several of the Andromedons had their weapons aimed, though lowered them once they saw who it was. “Andromedons of the Federation,” the Imperator said, his rich voice easily reaching even the highest of rows. “You have requested my presence. While you might be under the impression that I am ignorant to the state of the Collective, this is not the case. There are answers you wish for, and I can directly provide them.”

“Welcome, Imperator,” Chief Overseer Chernior said slowly. “We were not informed-“

“No,” the Imperator raised a hand. “You were not. I previously did not plan to indulge your demands. However, considering recent events, the Federation needs a goal. It needs _purpose_ to continue as an effective part of the Collective. You have failed to find that on your own. I will provide one to you. One you may be able to better understand than most.”

“Then continue.”

The Imperator stepped forward, as Fectorian and Ravarian moved out of the way. “I will tell you why you have reason to care about Earth. This is more than an internal matter. Why we continue to fight is because the Humans are in danger of being dominated by an extremely dangerous species – known to us as a Sovereign One.”

“Some elaboration is required,” V’Zarrah of Union Viarior said. “Just _what_ is a Sovereign One?”

“A being older than the evolution of many of our own species,” the Imperator explained. “These are the few, but powerful, aliens who wander the galaxy in pursuit of unimaginable goals. They find planets, they watch and wait, they fall into deep slumbers and rest, and when they awaken, they fight. They manipulate the aliens they can, and kill all who oppose them.”

He gestured around him. “There is one such of these aliens on Earth, and now he is awake. I am familiar with how they operate. The purpose of such tactics was to determine if there was one…and I have confirmed there is. As for how they operate…” he motioned and a deep blue sphere, with visible and moving distortions on it, appeared and floated before him. “They use these. I know several have seen them before. They are the means by which Sovereign Ones exert their influence. They are dangerous. And more of them are appearing on Earth.”

The Imperator made eye – or helmet – contact with various Andromedons. “You fear what my kind can do. But we cannot individually match a Sovereign One. Not yet. If Humanity is not pacified, and the most useful tool of this Sovereign is allowed to flourish, then it is not only the Collective who will be threatened, but the Federation as well. That is why this is more than an internal matter for my species. This concerns all who reside in this little pocket of the galaxy.”

In his Imperator-fueled haze, Ravarian was pondering the ramifications of what was being said. Even if he suspected the Imperator was twisting the truth, these Sovereign Ones did very much appear to be real. If that was the case…there were aspects and decisions that made a _lot_ more sense.

“And do you have more proof besides a floating orb?” One unknown Andromedon demanded.

The Imperator pulled out a data cube and telekinetically passed it to the Chief Overseer. “Watch what is on there. That is an Avatar of a Sovereign One fighting one of my most powerful Ethereals. See the proof with your own eyes.”

“Why wait to tell us this?” Another Andromedon demanded.

“Because the galaxy is not prepared for the knowledge of Sovereign Ones,” the Imperator answered. “And this is not the only one. These are aliens beyond even our comprehension. They see our species as primitive; as children. And the more that know, the more dangerous they become. By sharing this with you, I have provided context for my actions – but you are also now targets. That is the price, but you wished to know. But you will not share this with anyone else outside this room.”

He turned to face the Andromedons behind him, as well as Fectorian and Ravarian. “The Ethereals have been negligent in their actions. I have watched for long enough. Change to the Collective is coming, and the age of Ethereal apathy will die. The initiatives of the Battlemaster are the beginning, and I will ensure they are maintained. Humanity will be subjected under the might of the Collective, augmented with the soldiers and engineers of the Andromedon Federation. You species has proven their worth to us, now it is our turn to maintain what we have built.”

He turned back to the Chief Overseer. “Is what I have said satisfactory?”

Chernior pressed several buttons on his podium. “We shall put this to a vote concerning re-instating military support for the Ethereal Collective.”

There was a few minutes of Andromedons pressing buttons on their podiums. “By vote of sixty-two to thirty-seven, the motion passes. Due to the closeness of the vote, we will begin a limited restoration of military support for the Ethereal Collective, and will discuss full restoration in approximately three weeks.”

That was admittedly better than nothing, though it was still a bit too close for comfort. But it was definitely a start, and the Andromedons respected results. If the reforms continued, there was little reason for the Federation to continue to oppose military support. They definitely should not push the issue.

“Your support is appreciated,” the Imperator said. “The actions of the Collective will reaffirm our words, and I can assure you that while the war for Earth will be difficult, it is one we will win. The time of Ethereal apathy has ended, and it is time to raise the Collective to that of a power to challenge any in the galaxy.”

“Your clarifications are appreciated, Imperator,” Chernior said. “All of the Federation will be watching to see your promises come to fruition.”

“Then that is all,” the Imperator motioned and the air in front of them rippled. The concept of teleportation was not one that Ravarian was entirely comfortable with, but it appeared that he was going to have to go through it anyway.

Resigned, he closed his eyes.

The Federation seemed to be placated for now.

But the actual ramifications of what had been said were a different matter entirely.

***

_Desolan Orbital Station 3 – Desolan Orbit_

_12/10/2016 – 10:11 A.M._

An _Ethereal._

An actual _Ethereal_ had been working for XCOM.

Nartha was positive this had happened after he had left. There was no chance that XCOM could – or would – have kept that a secret from him. There was no better recruiting weapon than this. The divisions between the Ethereals must have been much worse than he had, in his most optimistic projections, suspected.

Aegis. Interesting. He’d never heard of that one.

Well, it was going to make his life a lot easier. All he needed to do was point to the Ethereal and say “That’s their ally!” Taking Caelior into captivity was also a major incentive. Nartha was fairly sure this would cause the Imperator to actually do something, and everything would eventually be under control – but in the meantime…the seeds were planted.

He was very curious as to what would happen next.

As for himself, he needed to figure out how to handle the Muton situation. The Nulorian had received his message, and were working on ‘handling it’, but at the same time he knew he needed to have something for the Zar’Chon. The good news was that recent events had completely taken up the Zar’Chon’s time and interest.

Sitting alone in his quarters on one of the orbital stations, sipping some water, he pondered the dilemma. He had enough names to completely dismantle the Muton smuggling ring, but doing so would severely hurt their chances of getting some kind of usable army. Even revealing part of it would likely lead loyal Zararch agents to compromising the entire thing, since these Muton smugglers had no idea how to properly combat an organization like the Zararch.

However, revealing part of it would give the Nulorian more time, and he had informed them of the possible necessity of such actions. If nothing else, the Nulorian were pragmatic and understood the need to sacrifice pieces for a greater gain.

Still, a one-man resistance was proving to be tiring. He really wished there was some means of communication with XCOM. The Nulorian were a means to an end, and the ones on Desolan were useful pawns. He didn’t really have any partner to help with this, and he could admit that it would be a lot easier with one.

Because if he died, it was over. And the Zar’Chon was not an idiot. Worst case scenario there was an Ethereal watching him. That would be bad. If that were the case, anything he did was doomed from the start.

Could Ethereals manage that?

Well…psionics. Telepathy.

He frowned.

A more paranoid person might wonder if the only reason he hadn’t actually been caught was because he was being used. The Zar’Chon was certainly one who would vastly prefer letting a traitor run around and find every single traitor in the Collective, and then killing them all in one fell swoop. The damages he caused would be nothing compared to any hope of the Collective falling being crushed forever.

He set his cup on the metal table, pondering that. It might not be a bad idea to begin thinking of contingencies in that case. A decentralized network might be preferable, but to do that properly, he needed allies. And the problem was he had none, and if he _was_ ever targeted…it didn’t really matter, because through him they would know everything.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Sectoids would likely be his best option. If anyone could detect if he was under some kind of…observation…it would be them. They certainly had the technological capabilities. The problem was that, of all the species in the Collective, the Greater Hive Commanders would _never_ even consider such action against the Ethereals. They were as homogenous as a species could get, and he couldn’t see any of them giving that up to actually rebel. Not that they would care about the word of a Vitakarian anyway. Xenophobic bastards.

So, a problem.

He knew he was running on a ticking clock, only he didn’t know how much time was left. He was going to be discovered eventually, the Zar’Chon would put the pieces together at some point, it was a matter of what he could accomplish beforehand. Knowing how the Zar’Chon operated was useful, as he was sure that at the beginning he wouldn’t notice anything. Once he had fulfilled whatever purpose the Zar’Chon wanted, he would most likely be killed without him ever seeing it coming.

How could he possibly prevent that without help?

Now he was in a completely different conundrum.

By actively creating a resistance within the Collective, he might actually doom it. The more people he met, the more were marked for death. Then again, what was the choice? Do nothing?

“Sitting there is certainly not going to help your situation.”

Nartha instantly had a pistol in his hand and aimed at the voice from the corner of the dimly lit quarters. He had brought almost nothing with him, and short of a small pack at the foot of his bed, the room was completely bare. The chances of someone being able to _hide_ in his room were completely impossible, and _remaining_ unnoticed even more so.

Yet inexplicably, there was someone in the corner of his room. Had he not known better, he would have guessed it was XCOM. But upon closer inspection, it definitely wasn’t one of the soldiers. The armor was almost stony, grey, and had a strange symbol on the chest. However, the figure was somehow a _Human._

“Put that down,” the man said, his voice stronger than his aged features implied. Nartha was confused as to _how_ there was an elderly Human standing in front of him. “You can’t kill me with that anyway.”

Nartha narrowed his eyes, pistol unwavering. He was not unconvinced he was dreaming, as there were no _Humans_ here of all places. He had been tired, and having dreams was not uncommon. They were usually never this vivid or strange, though. Still, he could try and play along. “Who are you, and how did you get _here_?”

The old man smiled and waved a hand. Nartha saw the air briefly shimmer and the man disappeared only to reappear on the other side of the room. His pistol followed. “A psionic trick,” the man said dismissively. “Not easy to perform for most, but I’ve gotten _exceptionally_ better at it recently.” He looked at the bare room. “As for who I am, you may call me the Chronicler.”

Nartha was less sure he was dreaming. It was a stretch but… “I don’t suppose you know XCOM?” As far as he’d known, there had been no Chronicler. He’d never heard of the name before now, which was why he doubted this odd Human psion was connected.

“Oh, I certainly do,” he nodded. “I’m not…part of them, but instead represent another party. One who the Ethereals have…questionably…decided to make an enemy of.” He tapped the side of his head. “The Imperator has quite curious plans. Ambitious, but he has very little idea of what he is toying with. Making the one I represent an enemy will not end well for him. Hence why I’m here now. XCOM informed me of certain things, including your mission. Admirable, but it is only a matter of time until your capture without contact with XCOM. This is assuming you haven’t been compromised already.”

Nartha pursed his lips, and lowered his pistol. Even if this Chronicler was lying, he knew that a psion of that power would easily kill him. Although he certainly didn’t understand a lot of what was being referred to. “I don’t suppose you can determine that?”

“Unfortunately no,” the Chronicler shook his head, eyeing him curiously. “However, I can help prevent something like that from happening in the future.” He pulled something from a pouch on his belt and walked over to Nartha, placing it in his hand. It was a small black-blue orb no bigger than a marble. It almost seemed to be rippling the more he looked at it; hypnotic in a way.

“Keep this on you at all times,” the Chronicler said. “Don’t ask how it works, but it will prevent anyone from unknowingly influencing you.”

The little orb was shockingly cold, but he placed it in his pocket. “Thank you,” he said, looking at the Chronicler carefully. “I suspect you want something as well. If you aren’t with XCOM-“

“The only thing at this point I am working towards is the destruction of the Ethereal Collective,” the Chronicler interrupted with a surprisingly flat voice as his face went still. “Your work will assist in achieving this. I do not care what happens afterward, but the Ethereals and their… _ally_ …they will die. To that end, I, and several others, will provide assistance where applicable.

He pointed to the ground. “My people have moved the entirety of the Mutons to another remote world. We left behind a skeleton crew for you to tip off to the Zar’Chon. Collapse the network, it serves no purpose and the Nulorian are working to establish another one with our assistance.” The hand moved up to his side again. “We will be initiating contact within the coming days with XCOM. When the time comes, I can take you to speak to them, and then return you.”

Nartha blinked. “You…can do that?”

The Chronicler gave a razor-thin smile. “There is very little that cannot be done. The Imperator has decided to reveal his intentions towards us. That invites retaliation.” He held out a hand and the air above his hand simmered and out came another of the orbs, although this one was much larger – the size of a Human basketball.

“Take this with you,” he said. “Place it on your ship. This will prevent your actions from being watched by the Imperator and…certain other parties,” he face wrinkled at that. “I am rather surprised at the risks the Imperator has taken. But as I said, he has very little idea what he is involved in.”

Nartha took the orb, which was similarly freezing and carefully set it on the bed. He had questions, but wasn’t sure if they should be spoken. Yet he needed to know _something_. “Who are you actually working for?”

The Chronicler seemed to consider that. “Do you know what a Sovereign One is?”

“No.”

“Well,” he mused. “I…work with one, although that is a poor description of my role. But he is very old, and has only recently been fully awakened by the actions of the Ethereals.” He eyed Nartha pointedly. “He also does not like to answer many questions, not to you, not yet. Do your work well and you will learn more.”

He stepped back. “I will be in contact soon. Give your report to the Zararch, and do not let the orbs be discovered.”

“And what if they are?”

The Chronicler chuckled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Then the rebellion may be kickstarted ahead of schedule.” With that the air shimmered around him and with a step back, he vanished, leaving Nartha alone with the mysterious artifacts.

This day had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting.

***

_Tactical Briefing Room, Solar System Command Center – Mars Collective Base_

_12/11/2016 – 12:09 P.M._

It was not ideal to reform the majority of the Collective military, but in light of the recent performances, it was something which was necessary.

The Battlemaster stood alone in the Command Center, over a dark holotable as he pondered the issue. He had outlines of what to do, and he would be appointing those who he knew could help achieve this change. But for now he was alone and needed to think through it once more. Much of what he was considering was close to shattering conventions and norms that had existed from the days of the Empire.

And that was the _problem_.

They were no longer in the Empire. They were in a new, dangerous, galaxy. They needed to be open to changes to meet new threats. Privately, the Battlemaster wondered if they’d be in this situation if the Empire hadn’t been the galactic power it had been. None had been able or willing to challenge them, and as a result they had never had reason to improve. The first true war they had faced had been the Synthesized…and it had ended badly.

The Collective as it stood was far too reliant on infantry. This was extremely apparent, and something the Humans had been capitalizing on. With the developments of psionics, heavy weapons, armored vehicles, and the incorporation of the trench lines and melee units, they were easily answering the superior numbers of the Collective.

That was the first priority to be addressed. The lack of useful vehicles. The Cyberdisks were practically useless now, and the Humans knew how to deal with them easily. The Sectopods were powerful, but too slow, unwieldy, too large a target. The designs were not inherently bad, and he knew that Fectorian and his new division of engineers were looking to improve all current designs.

But there were completely new designs that he had also drawn up. Not an absurd amount, but it would allow them to answer the siege tactics of the Humans, and withstand even their brutal punishments. However, the simulations and projects might not necessarily work as well in reality.

He had also come to the grim conclusion that no matter what they did, they were likely going to help the Humans in some way. XCOM had come this far by managing to reverse engineer their technology and research their corpses. They had taken the strengths of the Collective and made them their own. That was most likely not going to change unless they immediately won.

Well, while reverse-engineering their more primitive technology would not yield much that was useful, he could take pointers from their tactics and strategies.

There was going to have to be a massive revision of water tactics. That was one area the Humans were dominant in. Their undersea net of submarines needed to be purged, and for that he would need the Andromedon Aquatic Forces. He was considering the Sar’Manda, but not until the Vitakara were calmed down.

The Vitakara.

Yes, there would need to be changes. Some races, such as the Borelians and Oyariah, they would not need much change. They were experienced and competent. They did not generally break, and were at minimum equal to the standard ADVENT soldier. However, standard was not good enough. They needed to be _better_.

The Vitakara aversion to genetic modification needed to end. He did not personally care what the civilians did; if they wished to cling to their outdated beliefs on the subject, he would not impose such on them. But in the military, that would no longer be acceptable. They had the resources and capability to turn their soldiers into the equal of an XCOM soldier.

That is what he would do.

However, that was only solving part of the problem. The other aspect being the ugly truth that most Vitakara were _not suited for war_. They were too passive; too affected by what they heard and saw. There were too many who were facing mental issues from even a brief time on Earth. That was not acceptable.

There would need to be stricter screening, or at worst, perhaps a less-radical version of the procedure Zararch agents underwent. Some could perhaps be retained as a support team, but the soldiers could no longer be any who wished to join. It was also time to directly involve the races themselves in the conflict. The Vitakarian Republic, Borelian Authoritative Council, and Oyariah Hegemony would all be useful in such a pursuit.

Something to discuss when he arrived on Vitakar.

The Andromedons he felt needed little improvement. Out of all the Collective forces they were the most experienced, intelligent, and useful. They were being hindered by strategies, politics, and poor leadership. Should those be fixed, they would be able to realize their true capabilities. But aside from external reasons, the Andromedons he felt no need to change significantly.

He could not say the same about the Mutons.

They were now a billion-unit problem.

They would be phased out…eventually. But until then, they were essentially walking cannon fodder. While Revelean was working on a better template, it would not change the billions that still existed. He couldn’t throw them all out, so the best that could happen was they were chipped or conditioned against psionic interference, but he had ordered the production of Muton soldiers ceased until further notice.

It wasn’t as though they would be running out anytime soon.

The Sectoids were in a difficult spot as well. Their Vanguards worked…to an extent. However, against psions they were useless. The Hive Commanders would need to do better, and that essentially amounted to a more powerful and independent unit. They had little choice here. The basic Sectoids had been filtered out long ago, but perhaps the Vanguards could serve as a base template.

Aside from reforming those aspects, there was the matter of contingencies. While he never intended to let it reach the point where the Humans left Earth, it never hurt to be prepared. The Solar System was ripe for fortification. Mars was already underway, and establishing defenses, outposts, and forces at certain points would give a fallback plan should the unthinkable happen.

On that note, Fectorian needed to improve the Gateways. The entire Gateway network needed to be secured so that Aegis and XCOM couldn’t suddenly storm Gateways on Vitakar or Desolan, and the size restrictions hampered the Collective ability to properly respond to certain threats. While he knew it would take time, he was certain it could be done.

There was, of course, the eventual integration of the Avatar Project to consider.

One he was still uncertain of; including the Imperator already determining a candidate for him.

Yang Shuren. He would have to see her in motion to make an accurate judgement, but he could not fault the Imperator from taking the initiative. She had a natural tactical mindset thanks to her upbringing, weapon training and martial skills, thanks to her family connections with the Chinese military, and a reason to fight her own kind.

Yang Fen was, on paper, retired. In practice he was the equivalent of an exile too prominent to openly kill, and for reasons the Battlemaster didn’t know, had been shipped to Australia to live out his days under constant Chinese watch. An unfortunate victim of the cutthroat military politics of China, although what _exactly_ Yang Fen had done was knowledge he was not privy to.

Fortunate that the exile of him and his family had led to them being some of the first captured during the initial invasion of Australia. How the Imperator had managed to pick her out of the thousands was not something he had shared, but he was not surprised. The Imperator had a skill for picking out certain people, and Humans were no exception.

It appeared Yang Shuren had been given a similar offer the Imperator was going to make to Patricia. She was psionically sensitive, and seemed to have equal intellectual capabilities. Too useful to throw away, but the Imperator liked giving choices. And thanks to them, Yang Fen and his family were now living in Taiwan with no memory of being captured, but knowing Shuren was _safe_.

On her request, it seemed. Curious how she had only ensured the safety of her family and none else. Based on her psychological report it wasn’t surprising. Yang Shuren didn’t necessarily dislike _Humans,_ she disliked Humans in _authority_. She had a very tainted view of every single government institution, and especially hated the Chinese government, and the Chinese people for continuing to enable them.

She certainly seemed incapable of caring about ordinary Humans though, civilians or otherwise. Or at least she didn’t lose sleep over how many were no doubt dead; ones she had likely been with as a captive.

However, she seemed somewhat competent. If the Imperator wished him to…work…with her, he could likely do something. If she was to keep a place by him, she would have to earn it.

And his current plan for that was not going to be pleasant for her.

***

_Zararch Solar System Command, Solar System Command Center – Mars Collective Base_

_12/11/2016 – 4:12 P.M._

It was certainly an interesting group he had put together. As he was considering how best to improve and reform the Zararch, having separate divisions per species seemed like a reasonable first step. A Zararch Command Circle, as it would have been known. Such a formation had only happened once, upon the creation of the Aui’Vitakar as it was still unknown if the other races were hostile or not.

After seeing that such was unneeded, the Command Circle was eventually retired and command was placed exclusively on the Zar’Chon, whose power was continuously limited as the Vitakara saw little use for an intelligence service, even if his predecessor had made several arguments for the need, especially concerning the Borelians, Oyariah, and Sar’Manda.

All of which had been ignored, but in the end it had turned out alright.

The Ethereals understood the usefulness of such services, and one of the first things they had done was expanded the Zararch significantly, mostly leaving it up to him, although Quisilia had provided some help. However, it was clear he hadn’t done it entirely correctly, but that was simply a mistake. One he was correcting now.

There were two major additions, that of the Sectoids and Andromedons in the Zararch. He was satisfied with the quality of Vitakara agents, and didn’t see reasons to change them much. Their issue was how to use them, not if they were competent or not. But the Sectoids provided much-needed psionic utility, and the Andromedon Special Operators would answer directly to the Zararch now, and by extension, the Ethereals.

Finding a Hive Commander who would fill the role was fairly easy, as the Zararch had conducted several investigations on the various Hive Commanders, and Hive Commander 007 seemed to be the natural fit. His Hive largely consisted of various data centers, genetic vaults, and every single important document of the history and plans of the Greater Hive Commanders.

007 also had many connections through the Hives, and it would likely be easy to have him leverage them for the needs of the Zararch. 007 was certainly interested, and didn’t necessarily seem opposed to working with aliens, especially as he would be working with the Zararch in turn. Although, even standing on his legs, the ruddy orange alien was easily the shortest, only coming up to his waist.

The Andromedon was none other than Union Omega Project Director Rilianor. A complete unknown to the vast majority of the Federation, he oversaw the Union that did not exist – Omega. Having now been granted access to _that_ little secret, Ravarian was impressed that the Federation had the foresight to put together such a group and keep it under wraps.

Union Omega was, of course, the source of the unknown Andromedon Special Operators. Rilianor was the one who oversaw their creation, deployment, and reported anything relevant to the Chief Overseer. No other Andromedon in the Federation was aware, and it would be a simple matter to keep it that way.

With that said, Rilianor had been less than enthused about bringing Union Omega into the Zararch, but given how much the Ethereals were _also_ involved in Omega, there was little choice. Ravarian was still not sure of the extent of Ethereal influence, but it was clearly more significant than just authorization.

And to round out their little group was Quisilia. Now all clustered around the holotable, it was time to get down to business. “The capabilities of the Zararch have previous been blunted,” he began. “Both due to a failure to properly adapt to the Humans and restrictions placed upon the Zararch concerning operational parameters. With the latter lifted, we can plan more freely.”

“Penetration of ADVENT is a priority,” Rilianor stated, his voice more echoey than most Andromedons for some reason. “However, with their spreading use of psionics and counter-intelligence methods, there are more limited options.”

“Any alien will stand out,” Ravarian agreed. “And while those operations _can_ be conducted, there is a far higher risk of failure.”

“The Special Operators can easily perform surveillance work, and are more than capable of killing anything ADVENT can throw at them,” Rilianor stated. “However, it will make future operations more difficult if such missions turn violent.”

“Which is why we need to take a more methodical approach,” Ravarian motioned to 007. “Which is where the Hive Commanders come in. 007, you have said the Vanguard template can be modified.”

 _With ease,_ 007 projected into their minds. _It is a matter of what you wish. I would not recommend Sectoids for any kind of complex work. But conditioning, psionic aptitude, and physical characteristics can be shaped._

“Excellent,” Ravarian said, inclining his head. “We cannot plant agents in ADVENT conventionally. None of our own will pass a blood test, and the amount of psions embedded in their sensitive organizations will also make long-term operations difficult, if not impossible. I see the Sectoids performing two distinct services.”

He held up a finger. “The first as passive observation. If you wish specifics, there will be Sectoids transported into cities through civilian agents, and they will telepathically observe the area around them and report back if they learn anything of interest. Much of what they hear will be useless, but through it we can gauge important information such as citizen morale, political stability, as well as a host of sensitive personal information we can use to leverage the population against them.”

Another finger joined the first. “The second involves psionic psychological modification, both in the field and in a controlled environment. We have a large number of Human captives, and it is time we put them to further use than as fodder for Revelean and whatever the Creator does. We need to convert these Humans to sleeper agents and embed them back into ADVENT. The same tactic would apply in the field; a Human will be briefly abducted, modified, and returned to their original position until we need them.”

007 blinked, the Sectoid equivalent of thought. _It is doable,_ he finally said. _The brains will need to be inclined towards telepathy, and I would recommend lowering their size slightly to maintain a lower profile. However, they can be made to do exactly what you ask._

“Is the psionic conditioning in addition to traditional conditioning?” Rilianor asked.

“Correct,” Ravarian confirmed. “Traditional conditioning will ensure the subject does what we need, when we need it. Psionic conditioning will prevent undue panic, nervousness, or other emotions which might tip off an ADVENT psion. It might also be easier to simply wipe the mind of the target of the incident, as the standard conditioning is what is important.”

 _Yes,_ 007 mused, the raspy voice almost gleeful. _You will need our scientists to apply the standard conditioning. They need not be specialized; our scientists can be easily trained for such._

“How long would you expect the application to take?” Ravarian asked.

 _Such conditioning depends on the complexity and quality requested,_ 007 answered. _For what you require, no fewer than twelve hours. I would recommend a full day to ensure the conditioning is in place correctly and does not malfunction._

“This is all very fascinating,” Quisilia finally looked up, and Ravarian almost sighed as it seemed that Quisilia had spent the past few minutes scrolling on his phone. Wonderful. “Inserting Humans into ADVENT is an excellent idea. I am not convinced on these passive observation Sectoids. All it takes is for one psion to be caught and ADVENT Intelligence is locking the place down.”

 _There are solutions,_ 007 addressed the Ethereal directly. _We can condition these observers to die should a psion detect them, preventing any chance of them learning damaging information. With the advancements in nanotechnology, they could be reduced to nothing to make even a body impossible to find._

“And then we are down a Sectoid,” Rilianor rumbled. “Considering how many seem to be embedded in ADVENT, we will be losing too many to be worth it.”

 _These units are useful pawns and easily replaced,_ 007 made a dismissive motion, eyelids narrowing as he looked at the Andromedon. _It is unlikely that it would be as frequent as you suggest. The saturation of psions is a weakness. They do not know if such a presence is Human or not, if they bother feeling it in the first place. It is a simple enough matter to prevent these Sectoids from attempting to read any kind of psion. Your concern is misplaced._

“Or you can use them to play ADVENT,” Quisilia added, now looking back down at his phone. “At some point ADVENT will suspect there are hostile cells. In which case, one of these units could _accidentally_ tip off one of the Priests, and bring ADVENT down on a cell of Zararch – which so happens to have ten or so Sectoids. ADVENT believes they have won, and their guard will be lessened. In the meantime, we have lost very little.”

“Agreed,” Ravarian nodded. “That I believe will be our strategy for infiltrating ADVENT. XCOM is impossible with Aegis, and we should not waste resources attempting such.”

“What of the non-ADVENT nations?” Rilianor asked.

“South America and Africa are under the purview of Nebulan and Macula,” Ravarian said. “However, I would avoid antagonizing the European Union. Meddling too heavily will spur them to join ADVENT. We should limit our efforts to simple observation.”

“And China?”

Ravarian curled his lips. “They are a problem, and we should take appropriate action. The Chinese do not pose a threat to us like ADVENT. They have no interest in ADVENT, but they are an enemy. I will have you prepare your Special Operators to recover or destroy their intelligence, and at the same time we will begin culling their population.”

He looked towards 007. “The Hive Commanders have identified a potential weakness, correct?”

 _We have,_ 007 said. _Based on an extensive overview of Human diseases and plagues, as well as contrasting with potential synthesized ones, I believe there is a useful candidate to cull the Chinese in a way ADVENT will not immediately pin towards us. The disease of smallpox._

“And why is this useful?” Rilianor asked.

“It is a highly contagious and lethal disease,” Ravarian answered. “Given how tightly the Chinese are packed into cities, anything introduced would spread quickly. The Humans managed to almost entirely eradicate this disease through vaccinations, but have largely stopped doing such in recent years. Should it be reintroduced, they will be unable to stop it immediately.”

 _There is the issue of recreation,_ 007 added. _While we can attempt to synthesize it, working with an original sample is advised. However, the number of original samples are…limited. There is speculation that they are potentially under guard in Russia or United States Blacksites. As devastating as such a disease is, the Humans have not used it against each other._

“Hm,” Quisilia looked up again. “Don’t concern yourself with an operation to find this, I’ll handle it myself. I don’t believe I’ve visited Russia yet. It would be an educational trip.”

 _However it is acquired, it would likely be easy to replicate in larger quantities,_ 007 said. _Then China will be crippled for their defiance._

“Why target China?” Rilianor asked, the question clear in his voice. “While their defiance cannot be tolerated, ADVENT is the larger threat. Why show our hand in this?”

“Because ADVENT is more useful to us,” Quisilia answered. “We should not be killing off their populations unless necessary. China is irrelevant and overpopulated. Their preservation is not important, and they will serve as an example of what happens to nations who believe themselves capable of challenging us.” Quisilia looked up thoughtfully. “And I wouldn’t worry. I am sure that ADVENT will face their share of biowarfare shortly.”

“To conclude with China,” Ravarian steered them back on topic. “We will identify all prominent Chinese politicians and either assassinate, poison, or abduct some of their family. While we shouldn’t remove all our leverage, killing a spouse or child will serve as an appropriate punishment.”

“The Battlemaster will _not_ like that,” Quisilia warned. “While yes, unleashing a disease is going to kill a lot of Humans, it’s retaliatory. The Battlemaster is not going to like that either, but it is indiscriminate to a degree. Deliberately targeting associates of actual targets might get you executed. Especially if you kill kids.”

Ravarian pursed his lips. “It serves a purpose-“

“Take my advice,” Quisilia said. “If you absolutely _must_ order someone assassinated, kill the politicians themselves. Or just threaten their families. But don’t _touch_ them.” The Ethereal shrugged. “Now, I don’t necessarily care. But the Battlemaster does. Up to all of you how much you want to risk.”

Ravarian rubbed his forehead. The Battlemaster and his damn code of conduct. “Change parameters. We don’t want to throw the government into disarray, otherwise ADVENT will step in.”

“Then make their lives miserable,” Rilianor suggested. “Sabotage their electricity, water, and internet. Cripple them. Turn their country into a nightmare, and it will not take long for a diseased population to start fighting. The world will watch as the aspiring superpower falls to pieces and becomes a disease-ridden nation.”

Ravarian heard a _click_ and turned to see that Quisilia had just taken a picture with his smartphone. “Well said!”

He resisted the urge to facepalm, and instead shook his head. “007, begin design and production of these units. Rilianor, prepare the Special Operators for action against China. That will be all for today, dismissed.” Once they left, he shot Quisilia a look, then activated the holoprojector in his palm and navigated to Twitter.

Sure enough, Quisilia was posting pictures of their _highly classified_ meeting for the entire world to see.

 **Quisilia** @TheGreatQ - Dec 11, 2016

In a very important meeting where we’re discussing the #future of the Zararch! Very exciting plans ahead! Looking forward to seeing the reaction :) #planning #zararch #xcom #vaccines #cooperation #china

And of course there was a picture attached which showed him, Rilianor, and 007 standing around a holotable looking like they were having a serious conversation. Which they were, until Quisilia decided to…be Quisilia. With some trepidation he realized he hadn’t checked some of Quisilia’s recent posts.

Mentally steeling himself, he scrolled up and was both extremely disappointed, and extremely unsurprised, not the least of which was because two of them were pictures of him, definitely taken without him knowing. The first was a picture of him looking at something on a datapad, as serious as he always was.

 **Quisilia** @TheGreatQ – Dec 6, 2016

Give some support for my good old friend, he’s going through some difficult times. #support #friendshipismagic #depression #zar’chon #mentalhealthawareness

Ravarian would have almost found that touching, had it not been laced with sarcasm and the picture itself had the caption “ _MFW I realize that I’m losing to a bunch of primitive aliens and can’t figure out why.”_

Ha ha. So funny. And of course the damn tweet had several hundred thousand likes. The next one was just as inane.

 **Quisilia** @TheGreatQ - Sep 6, 2016

We all have these days, don’t we. #longday #reform #cats #zar’chon

This time the picture Quisilia had so helpfully attached was one of him standing and looking contemplatively out of the window of the Mars Observation Station, and also holding his cat. Great. Now the world had this image of the leader of the Zararch holding a cat in his arms.

The caption didn’t help either: “ _When I have to conquer an alien species, but all I really want to do is hold my cat.”_

Ravarian didn’t really want to look at any more and just shut it off, looking up at Quisilia as he did so. “I am amazed that no one has ever killed you.”

“Oh believe me, many certainly wanted to,” Quisilia gave a light laugh. “But sadly, I’m a bit too important, and more importantly, smarter than they are.” He put his phone away. “Now, I think I have to track down an eradicated disease. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck,” he said flatly, before turning away. Sure enough, Quisilia was gone when he glanced around. Well, all things considered, everything that needed to be done was being done. Plans were being set in motion, and the shackles were gone.

He allowed himself a smile as he thought about what was coming to China.

They would wish they had just stayed out of it.

***

_The Hall of Steel, Blacksite 05 – Unknown_

_12/12/2016 – 8:22 P.M._

“You want to create an AI.”

Fectorian practically sniffed at that as he led the Battlemaster down one of the grey hallways. “No, I do not. However, the Chinese Humans have shown the benefits of a battlefield intelligence, and I am planning to adapt the CODEX system to such. Working in conjunction with Sargons, local commanders, and yourself, I estimate it will greatly improve our efficiency.”

The concept still sounded dangerously close, but if there was one who could make such a system, the Battlemaster had to admit it would be Fectorian. “That will take time to overhaul our communications network. As well as establish protocols.”

“Yes, yes,” Fectorian pressed a button to the door of a room, which slid open. “However, since I am now working with the illustrious species of the Collective, such implementation should not take as much time. However, I have applied that to another project I have been working on for some time.”

Both of them stepped inside a large square room, which was brightly lit and filled with motionless humanoid figures. They were roughly the size of a tall Vitakarian, with no visible eyes, sensors, or other things indicating their likely mechanical nature. However, closer inspection could show that the bodily proportions were too small for it to be a soldier wearing armor, even if there were no obvious lines indicating mechanics.

The faceplates were black, along with the rest of their body, and the overall design was extremely sleek and streamlined. The chest had silver patterns on it which culminated in a symbol of the Ethereals on the chest. “I showed the initial workings of the REPLICA project to several Andromedon and Vitakara engineers,” Fectorian said. “Based on those conversations, the Custodian Project was born. Am ultimate soldier, without equal.”

He pressed a button on his wrist and two of the figures stepped forward. “These were designed to be able to withstand Lancers in strength and melee combat,” Fectorian said, as the machine soldiers ejected nearly-invisible blades from their wrists. “Single-use nanoblades to penetrate their Iron Skin modifications, and CQC programming.”

“Durable as well, I suspect,” the Battlemaster noted. “How extensively have they been tested?”

“They have performed exceptionally in damage tests,” Fectorian motioned another armed Custodian forward, holding a heavy plasma weapon with ease. “Observe.” The Custodian unleashed a green barrage of plasma into the chest of the other motionless Custodian. Once it stopped, the chest was very much damaged and it was several layers deep into the unit itself. However, a few seconds later the sections began reforming until it was fully repaired. The aesthetic lines and symbol were sadly not preserved, but protection had been restored.

“While they are unlikely to hold up against an artillery strike, they are more than capable of sustaining damage,” Fectorian said. “This was designed for two reasons – the first to provide a unit that cannot be dominated by psions. The second is to take advantage of the Battlefield CODEX. These units will be managed and maintained by the respective CODEX in combat.”

The Battlemaster eyed the units. “And what happens if the CODEX is not available?”

“They will proceed with standard battlefield programming,” Fectorian answered, as they began walking through the lines. “Which essentially is the elimination of enemy personnel until further notice. The authority of the CODEX can also be superseded by yourself, or whoever you designate.”

The Battlemaster nodded, finding himself more open to the idea of expanding the CODEX capabilities. Up ahead he saw one of the Custodians, standing before five seemingly unmodified Mutons. “I have given some thought to the Muton issue,” Fectorian said. “I believe I have a solution. We cannot simply discard them, but we can utilize them as simple tools. In pursuit of this, these Mutons are chipped and slaved to a Custodian.”

“Why?”

“The Custodian is a tool of the CODEX,” Fectorian explained. “And the CODEX knows optimal deployments and strategies. It also is aware of how psionic manipulation operates. If Mutons are psionically compromised it can have the Custodian secure a certain number before they can be used against us. Alternatively, it will allow the Custodians to effectively micromanage small numbers of Mutons while allowing command to focus on overall strategy.”

“Is that your proposal?” The Battlemaster turned to the engineer. “Chip and slave our remaining Mutons to these Custodians?”

“Exactly,” Fectorian nodded. “I cannot find a better solution. Even if Mutons are ultimately restrained by biology, machines are more efficient, coordinated, and decisive than the mind can ever hope to be, and are far more durable. While it cannot emulate complex strategies effectively, it can certainly put the Mutons to better use than an organic commander.”

The Battlemaster considered that. “We will test that in combat. I will not convert the entirety of the Mutons until this has been shown to be effective.”

“Reasonable,” Fectorian lifted a holoprojector in his hand, and another image appeared. This one looked like a scaled-up Custodian, but with far bulkier arms and legs. “We have already begun designs on a larger-model Custodian. This is intended to fill the same roles of psionic deterrence and command, as well as counter ADVENT MDUs, and XCOM MECs. Prototypes are being designed at this moment.”

“What of the ARCHON Project?” The Battlemaster asked.

“That,” Fectorian said with some smugness. “Is something that I wish to be a surprise for the time being. Suffice to say that the prototypes are being refined and will be shown shortly. I believe you will be pleased.”

That Battlemaster decided to tolerate that for now. He had done good work so far. “And anything else of note?”

“Ah, yes.” The hologram changed to show a vehicle the Battlemaster had read the concepts for. The Herald, as it was being called. As Fectorian had initially described it, it was an answer to the armored tanks many Human nations employed. The base of the Herald appeared at first glance to be inspired by the Sectopod center chassis, but had been elongated and had armor ‘fins’ sloping towards the ground on the sides of the main chassis. “The Herald is being prepared for prototype testing. I believe it should perform exceptionally well.”

Given the specifications, the Battlemaster agreed. The biggest flaw he could see was the limited mobility in terms of speed, but since it employed hover engines, it made up for that by being multi-directional. Plasma and railgun weapons, point-laser defenses, grenade launchers, short-term engine boosts to avoid missiles, limited Andromedon kinetic barriers, and an improved Sectopod beam on the front. Easily a match for any Human armor unit.

“Considering the cost, I should hope so,” the Battlemaster said. “I assume these will be also slaved to the Battlefield CODEX?”

“I am undecided,” Fectorian said thoughtfully. “I had designed such functionality into it, but there are several Andromedons who wish to incorporate a tailored machine intelligence into it instead. I will likely have multiple trial runs to determine what is most effective.”

“Good.” The Battlemaster liked it, and was pleased that it was far enough along where prototypes were being planned. “However, this will be of limited use against the cities. The trenches must be bypassed first.”

“Luckily, I have designed a solution to that,” Fectorian changed the hologram to something the Battlemaster had only seen the code name of. “The Executor, designed to break the trenches and end sieges.”

The size was estimated to be massive, at least four times the size of a standard Sectopod. However, the design was almost nothing like the preceding unit. Instead of two legs, it had six which supported a much larger chassis. On the top was a massive railgun, and right next to it was the hatch for the blaster launcher.

Massive plasma and coilgun cannons were attached to the sides, and below the chassis, and the Battlemaster also recalled that the legs had Andromedon barriers built into them to mitigate that weakness. “This will be refined more,” Fectorian said. “But the Executor will be more than capable of firing at ADVENT from a safe distance. As with the Herald, how it will be run is undecided. Given that this unit is not even out of the design phase, it will be some time before it is deployed.”

“You will have it,” the Battlemaster nodded. “This is promising. Excellent work. Is there more?”

“Yes, actually,” Fectorian said, turning to him. “Turn around.”

The Battlemaster did and found himself facing one of the floating Seekers. But this was _not_ a standard Seeker. It was at least twice as big, and appeared to be more heavily armored with a long-barreled rifle poking out from the mouth. It unnervingly made no sound at all. “I have also improved the Seeker unit,” Fectorian continued. “You are seeing the one that will be deployed on the battlefield. They were designed for close and long range priority target elimination, capable of being connected to a CODEX network, and retain their cloaking capabilities. Their weapon loadouts can vary between plasma, physical, and nanoweaponry. Quite useful, if I do say so myself.”

“Indeed,” the Battlemaster mused as he looked at the unit. “Extremely. I believe the Humans will not be able to easily defend against your creations.”

“I almost hope they manage it,” Fectorian said wistfully as he pressed several buttons, as the Seeker disappeared from view. “Having a challenge is exciting. However, I do agree that no matter what they attempt, my work will always exceed theirs.”

“Continue your work,” the Battlemaster said as he turned around. “You will receive additional instructions shortly on production numbers.”

“Yes, Battlemaster.”

***

_Aui’Vitakar Assembly Chambers – Vitakar_

_12/14/2016 – 11:23 A.M._

It had been quite a long time since Ravarian had actually set foot in the Aui’Vitakar Assembly Chambers. The entire organization had been one he had slowly and gradually excised from his mind in levels of importance. They were a necessary government body, but one who had little authority or purpose outside of providing the Vitakara a sense of safety and freedom.

However, when they became angry, they could cause problems.

Thus, steps needed to be taken. Which was why he led the trio of Ethereals through the white streets to the Assembly Chambers. The Battlemaster, Revelean, and Sana’Ligna made an interesting group, and had attracted the attention of pretty much every single Vitakara in the vicinity. He’d had the Zararch lock off their route, but had designed it in such a way that the majority of Vitakara in the city would see them.

He had initially thought that it would restore some faith in the Ethereals, seeing three of them at once, but in the end it had largely turned out to take much, _much_ longer than he had anticipated thanks to him deciding to go past the main medical ward. Sana had taken it upon herself to stop at it, saying she could ‘catch up later’.

None of them really liked that, and so all of them had made a stop at Vitiary’s Medical Ward. Ravarian actually didn’t believe Sana had intended it as a PR stunt, but if nothing else it was going to restore trust in the Ethereals. Revelean had offered to take a look at some of their medicines and limited genetic research and had (while making various amused noises) improved, fixed, or replaced these entirely.

While Revelean was doing that, Ravarian and the Battlemaster had stood around rather awkwardly. The Battlemaster had finally decided to speak to some of the wounded soldiers, what few of them there were here, and Ravarian had watched Sana work.

It was a decidedly unnerving experience.

It was not _normal_ that she could somehow place one hand on the forehead of an ill Vitakarian and they would stand up, cured, in a matter of a few minutes. It was not _normal_ that he literally watched the skin of all three Vitakara who had been in a small crash _heal_ in real time, _simultaneously._ If he didn’t know better, it would look to the passive observer like magic.

Truthfully, he had _no_ idea how she was doing it. Nanotech was a possibility…but that didn’t seem to really match with how she carried herself. He didn’t know how this was possible psionically…if that was even remotely related. The mysterious Sovereign technology was a possibility, but one he could not really prove.

So while the patients cried and thanked the Ethereal healer, he watched in a mix of fascination and concern.

Even for an Ethereal, she was not normal. Even _Isomnum_ seemed more easily understood. As distasteful as the Dread Lord was, there was a clear source of his powers. There were clear and obvious answers. For Sana, whatever she did raised more questions.

It wasn’t her strange abilities, her very persona was so different from every other Ethereal it was difficult to believe she was even of the same species. She was too…nice, caring, and gentle. You felt good just _being_ around her, yet she was absurdly humble in anything she did.

But it didn’t feel _right_ or _natural_.

Perhaps he was being too cynical, but Sana seemed to inhabit a dimension of reality separate from the rest of them.

In the end, it had eventually been finished, and while the Aui’Vitakar were understanding in what the Elders had been doing, he knew that many were short on patience. Preparing for this gathering, Ravarian had identified it was the Dath’Haram and Borelians who would have the most questions. Perhaps the Vitakarians as well, and maybe the Sar’Manda if they bothered to show up. The Cobrarians were under enough threat from the Zararch that they would probably hold their tongues.

Now inside the center of the gleaming amphitheater, it was time to see what would happen. The Assembly was divided into sixths, one bloc per race. Surprisingly, all representatives – including the Sar’Manda – were present. Extending from each section was a small platform, where the chosen speaker of the race would make a motion or ask a question. All six species had one of their own ready to ask questions, and in the center was another elevated platform where the Overseer of the Assembly ran the proceedings.

“Honored Elders Revelean, Sana’Ligna, and the Battlemaster, we welcome you,” the Overseer began, inclining his head towards the trio. “We are thankful you have chosen to come and address this body, and are optimistic that the Collective and the Elders will provide clear and satisfactory answers concerning recent events.”

Ravarian did not fail to notice he had been excluded. Fair. The Aui’Vitakar had never especially liked the Zararch, and the feeling was mutual. He had decided that, with three Ethereals here, he would keep his own additions limited. They were not interested in the words of the Zar’Chon, but of the Elders.

“We are honored to be here,” Sana took the lead, her layered and melodic voice easily echoing through the Chambers. “And on behalf of the Imperator, we wish to commend the Aui’Vitakar for wisely and carefully leading the Vitakara to prosperity.” There were some nods and brief applause at that. Such was fairly normal, and expected, even if he noticed the Borelians were completely still.

“I will begin this Assembly with recognizing the designated representative from the Vitakarian Republic,” the Overseer said. “Aui’charalla’vitiary, please step forward.”

The Vitakarian male was the expected representative. Neutral in most matters, he tended to focus more on Vitakar and not external or interspecies politics. As a result he maintained good relations with the races, even the Sar’Manda, even if he wasn’t looked on as a radical or charismatic leader. He was also one who didn’t ask dangerous or provocative questions. If the Republic was choosing him, then this was more of a formality than anything.

“Honored Elders, welcome,” he began. “I believe I speak for the Aui’Vitakar when I ask for an explanation regarding the documented fact that the Elder, who has been identified as Aegis, is seemingly working against the Collective.”

None of them were considering that a hostile question. It was fair and expected, even from the friendliest of Vitakara. “I can confirm this is accurate,” the Battlemaster stepped forward. “There were reasons why this was kept for the Collective. The first was that the first appearance of Aegis was the first we had seen since his departure. We suspected he was aiding XCOM, but it was in miniscule ways. As you are aware, if it was shared that there was an Ethereal who defected, it would cause panic. We wanted to keep this contained unless necessary. We did not expect this.”

“I see,” Charalla said neutrally. “And what do you plan to do to handle this traitor Ethereal?”

“Capture him if possible, and return him to the Imperator,” the Battlemaster answered. “But he is dangerous. If necessary he will be killed. There are few chances to be taken with one such as him.”

“Then you do not have a plan,” the Vitakarian said evenly. “Just a goal. Based on our limited knowledge, it does not appear that a non-psion can challenge him. As a second Ethereal was captured as well, are you certain your own kind can protect our soldiers and even yourselves?”

“Yes,” the Battlemaster’s voice was absolute. “I know Aegis’ strengths and weaknesses. I know how he thinks. Caelior did not. The reforms currently being implemented through the military will help mitigate the damage he can cause. In principle, Aegis is not a violent Ethereal. But if pressed, he can be. However, if you wish for specifics, it would likely involve a combination of telepathic assaults, kinetic bombardment and multiple armies converging on him, along with supporting psions.”

“Very well,” Charalla said. “This will be my last question posed. While your reasons for withholding this information can be seen, it is quite clear that even if we were notified of the danger, much of this could not be prevented. Even if you are acting in our best interests, it does little to build or maintain trust between our people. It appears the Humans have exploited this weakness in an attempt to weaken the bonds of our alliance. One which has worked to some capacity. Does the Imperator plan to change the policies regarding the sharing of such information?”

“Yes,” the Battlemaster said, making a wide gesture with one of his arms. “In the future, such information will be disseminated to respective government and military officials to avoid such incidents. The interconnectivity of the Collective itself is also being addressed, as many of you have likely discovered. I can confirm that there are no similar pieces of information to share.”

“Thank you, Battlemaster,” the Vitakarian said. “The Vitakarian Republic has no further questions.”

“We shall move to the Oyariah Hegemony,” the Overseer said, motioning to an Oyariah whose stone skin was more elaborate and thinner than most. “Representative Aui’farrai’hegemon.”

“Honored Elders,” the Oyariah began, a female judging by the lighter voice – the genders were nearly impossible to differentiate without speech. “The Hegemony is satisfied with the answers provided in response to the questions posed by the representative from the Republic. The Hegemony has no further questions.”

Not unexpected. The Hegemony had no reason to cause issues, especially since they shared the closest relationship with the Ethereals out of all the races. No one else seemed surprised either. The Overseer looked to the delegation of Sar’Manda. “We shall move to the Sar’Manda Empire. Representative Aui’sariah’manda.”

There were times where Ravarian felt slightly bad for the fish. They had to constantly wear their silver suits above water, which constantly circulated water through them. The suits themselves were actually fairly decorative, incorporating silvers and blues, etched with lettering that seemed random, but the Zararch had been trying to determine for years.

However, the suits suppressed their fins, and the helmets were shaded since bright light made them uncomfortable. It also didn’t help that the Sar’Manda had a significant language barrier that they’d never attempted to overcome. Very little of the Sar’Manda language involved speech, but a complicated series of facial motions, physical gestures, and movements.

All Sar’Manda were accompanied by interpreter devices, which allowed some level of communication, although if any Sar’Manda spent a reasonable amount of time above water, they could usually understand and learn the standard languages. But there was always an air of annoyance around them when speaking, as if constantly irritated.

In this case, the Sar’Manda representative simply pressed a button and the translator device spoke, in a heavily synthesized tone. “The Sar’Manda Empire has no questions this day. We would inform the Overseer of the Assembly to only mandate our presence in the event that Vitakar faces imminent danger. Do not presume to summon the Empire again without due cause. So is the command of the Manda’sarthoria.”

At the conclusion of the device’s speech, the entire Sar’Manda delegation rose and immediately filed out without a word, leaving the rest of the Assembly in various stages of outrage, shock, or amusement. Ravarian widened an eye in mild surprise. Well, it explained why the entire delegation had been here. Making a statement here was interesting, but it only reinforced the fact that the Sar’Manda genuinely did not care about any but themselves.

However, the fact that this had come from the Manda’sarthoria himself was interesting. The reclusive leader of the Sar’Manda Empire had never been seen above the water, but on the rare times the Sar’Manda actually did something, it was _always_ on his orders.

“We will now move to the Borelian Authoritative Council,” the Overseer said, clearly wanting to restore normalcy to the room. “Representative Aui’luraian’borelia.”

That was definitely an indication of where things were headed. Luraian was one of the closest friends of the _entire_ Authoritative Council, and the mate to the Sector Commander of the Borelian Military. As the entire Authoritative Council had expressed dissatisfaction with the Collective, this was likely not going to be taken as well as the Vitakarians.

“Elders, welcome,” he began cordially. “I first request a complete status update on the state of the war on Earth. We have been assured – multiple times – that this would be a short-lived conflict, but has so far left thousands without family, provoked an Ethereal to treason, and led to the situation we are in now. The Collective has been directly lying to us, and we are owed the truth. State it before this body now.”

Well, this was somewhat expected, but still slightly irritating. “The Humans are more resourceful than we originally anticipated,” the Battlemaster answered. “We have been unable to handle them correctly, and are currently reevaluating our tactics and plans. They are enhanced by their ability to use psionics, and have embraced genetic modification. With Aegis now firmly on their side, they have become an entrenched threat.”

“Acceptable,” Luraian folded his arms. “That was easy, was it not? Why was none of this shared with the Authoritative Council? Or even the Aui’Vitakar? If our soldiers are fighting in your wars, we are owed an explanation as to why.”

“Because of a tendency for the less-upstanding of all species to upset the order of things,” Ravarian spoke for the first time. “Representative, you are aware that the Nulorian enjoy operating in Borelia. They are no amateurs, and would easily engage in disinformation should they find information to exploit. There have been victories and losses on Earth, but few remember the victories when the losses are in the mix. It is a price to pay for the stability of Vitakar, which all here have enjoyed.”

“I did not ask your opinion, Zar’Chon,” Luraian growled. “I wish to hear it from the Elders themselves.”

“I agree,” the Battlemaster said, causing some surprise murmurings. “That previous policy is outdated and inefficient. It was put in place because of traditional separation of the various governments and the Collective military, and I simply never bothered to change it. This will no longer be the case. All governments who have citizens in the Runianarch and Lurainian will have a direct line and representation in the Collective Military moving forward.”

That seemed to somewhat placate the Borelian. “Then you will not oppose the Authoritative Council sending independent investigators to Earth?”

“No.”

“Very well.” The Borelian stepped back. “The Authoritative Council is satisfied for now. Our representatives will be in contact shortly.”

“We will now move to the Cobrarian Hierarchy,” the Overseer said, gesturing to the Cobrarian at the podium. “Representative Aui’hissariah’dassi.”

“The Cobrarian Hierarchy is satisfied with the answers which have been provided,” she hissed. “The Hierarchy has no further questions at this time.”

That was quick. Good, one less thing to worry about.

“We will conclude with the Council of Dath’Haram,” the Overseer said, motioning to the robed alien as he eyed the Ethereals with clear suspicion. “Representative Aui’trudian’Dathaira.”

“Elders,” the Dath’Haram said with forced neutrality. “You have spoken at great length over your wish to improve the transparency of the Ethereals. Is this correct?”

“It is,” Sana said. “We can recognize the need to improve.”

“Good.” Trudian narrowed his eyes. “Then like the Authoritative Council, we would request to send our own investigative units to places of our choosing.”

“We can certainly accommodate another unit on Earth,” the Battlemaster said. “However, you are entering a war. It will not be pleasant.”

“Earth is one area, yes,” the Dath’Haram said. “The other will be sent to Desolan.”

Ravarian kept his face still. That…was not expected. At all. “What relevance does Desolan have here?” He asked.

“This is not simply about the war,” the representative said. “But about the conduct of the Collective and Elders themselves. Information has come to us in regards to the atrocities committed on that world, which were and are shielded from us. I suspect you understand what I am referring to, _Zar’Chon_.”

This was something of a conundrum. It appeared that the Dath’Haram needed to be handled appropriately, although not before determining just how they might have acquired such knowledge. “The Muton species, and Desolan is under the command of the Ethereal Collective military,” the Battlemaster stated, stepping forward. “Operations conducted on the planet are not authorized to be shared to civilians.”

“That does not matter,” Trudian answered firmly. “This body has the right to know the truth. If necessary I will share it myself, or have you accept our investigators.”

The Battlemaster hesitated, and Revelean stepped forward. “They will be allowed,” he said slowly. “We will let the Aui’Vitakar determine how to interpret the results.”

A simple solution. Given what he knew about the planet, and how he would deal with the Dath’Haram, that subject would be killed over time. “Now, there is also a question none of my colleagues have asked. You have started this war against a pre-spaceflight species, but you have not provided a reason as to _why_. Did you even attempt diplomatic communication, or did you simply wish to conquer an innocent and unknown species?”

Ravarian pursed his lips. The damn Dath’Haram were surprisingly growing a spine and asking some fairly troublesome questions. “Humans captured and interrogated our initial scouting teams,” Revelean said. “Before any sort of diplomatic channels could be established, XCOM had effectively strong-armed the majority of Humans to fight any aliens who entered Earth and declared war on us. The one we sent to negotiate with them was brutally killed by XCOM. The death of an Elder was one we cannot tolerate, and we resolved to end this conflict, even if it is not our fault. This is not an innocent species, representative, otherwise we would not be at war, would we?”

Revelean could lie quite easily it seemed. Were circumstances different, Ravarian would have had a good laugh at the thought of the _Ravaged One_ being a negotiator. Let alone one interested in peace. The Dath’Haram still looked skeptical, but he didn’t contest the point. “And the same question for Aegis – _why_ did he defect?”

“Aegis is…an idealist,” Sana said sadly. “He, like you feel now, prefers to view the best in people and species. He did not agree with our actions and left as a statement to the Imperator. His reasons are not complicated, even if they are mired in idealism rather than practicality.”

Sana calling anyone idealistic seemed rather ironic. No, Aegis had left for other reasons. Perhaps those included what she mentioned, but he _did_ know that Aegis was far more practical than Sana could ever be.

“I will conclude with this,” Trudian said. “Both the Runianarch and Lurainian should be officially returned to us. The Collective may maintain control of the Zararch, but we are entitled to dictating our own military. Your words may have blinded the others at the time, but it is clear now that it has made us toothless against you. If you truly desire to reform, allow us this once more.”

Well, the Dath’Haram were certainly being combative today. He had _not_ expected this level of hostility. Although the Battlemaster seemed to have no issue with confronting this. “No. The Runianarch and Lurainian are under acceptable management and placing them under the Aui’Vitakar is an unnecessary waste of resources, and your inexperience will lead to avoidable mistakes and issues. This will not be granted.”

“However,” Sana interjected softly. “There is nothing that stops you from forming such an organization yourselves. You only need to look to the Borelians and Oyariah for inspiration, as they have and maintain local militaries. It will not be the storied names of the Runianarch and Lurainian, but it will be the beginning of a new chapter.”

Trudian narrowed his eyes. “Would this be allowed?”

“It would be,” Sana nodded sagely. “You have my word on this.”

“Then the Council will be proposing such an organization in the future,” he said with a nod. “With that, the Council has no further questions.”

A few moments passed, and the Overseer looked around, and back down at them. “There are no further questions, and this gathering is concluded. We thank you for your participation, honored Elders, and are looking towards a brighter future.”

It would definitely be bright, Ravarian mused. But the Dath’Haram were going to be facing quite a lot of questioning over the next few weeks.

Such dissent was dangerous, and would not be tolerated. But they would have to be careful.

If they had acquired information about Desolan, perhaps there were rebel elements Nartha had not yet encountered. If so, then he would have to destroy those first. But that would come in time. For now, the Collective was finally stable.

***

_Fighting Arenas, Hegemon – Vitakar_

_12/15/2016 – 11:22 A.M._

The Battlemaster considered the Oyariah facing him, unable to determine if she was going to maintain the defensive posture or launch into another attack. The Ravager of the Hegemony was known to be the most dangerous alive, only rivaled by the Stalker himself, and the Battlemaster had been forced to put some effort into fighting her.

While he maintained the height advantage, the Oyariah in question was by no means small. And the fact that she could carry the sculpted shield and warhammer with very little effort allowed her a certain quickness he could not naturally match.

When coming down to the Hegemony, he had originally only intended to speak to the Stalker and Ravager, but when the latter expressed a desire to face him in combat, he had felt like obliging as he knew they would consider it an honor. It appeared that they really only considered a few as having the qualifications to challenge him, as no additional Oyariah had expressed similar interest.

The arena was rather small, with a black stone floor and poorly lit, like most Oyariah cities. It proved to be a minor handicap, as the Ravager had no issue with the poor lighting. Around the arena were the stands, packed with Oyariah eager to see the famed Battlemaster in a duel with their champion. Stalker Heg’tretiga’hegemon also sat in one of the upper rows, flanked by his six advisors, all of which were watching in rapt attention.

Out of respect, he was refraining from using psionics in this fight. While the Oyariah would likely not care, it was an advantage he would not exploit. The Ravager dashed forward, swinging her warhammer in a swift arc while thrusting her shield towards him in a bash. He redirected her swing to the ground, and used two of his hands to grab the shield, and followed up by kicking her backwards.

She was forced to let go of the shield as she was thrown backwards, which he immediately tossed aside and began his own offensive. Both Ethereal and Oyariah traded strikes with each other, the Ravager opting in favor of pure strength and resistance than dodging. All of his strikes were met with a firm parry, although applying a considerable amount of pressure did force her arms to move.

Her strength was impressive, and she was fast enough to take most of his strikes. Granted, he was not necessarily trying his hardest, but it was far more than most he dueled. A shame that the Oyariah were not psionically sensitive, for she would make an excellent Avatar candidate. Still, he had business to take care of and he had allowed the fight to go on long enough.

Using his strength he lashed out with his blade and once she caught it, forced her to a knee, where he used his free hands to grab the warhammer itself, and lifted her into the air while applying selective punches to the face and arms until she was forced to let go. The Battlemaster threw aside the weapon, grabbed the Oyariah by the arm and slammed her into the nearby wall.

Flourishing his blade, he prepared to continue, but instead raised a hand. “I conclude this battle.”

The Oyariah equivalent of yielding. The Battlemaster nodded as the crowd cheered at the statement, which lasted for several minutes as the Ravager collected her weapons and both departed into the smaller arenas outside, which were clear for them. “You fought well,” he told her. “Your rank is well-earned.”

“The privilege is mine, honored Battlemaster,” she said, her head inclined low in respect. “I am simply pleased you accepted. All would have understood if you had not, for all know they cannot be your equal.”

“That does not mean they cannot strive for such,” the Battlemaster said as he saw the Stalker and his entourage approaching. “None improve without challenging those who are their superior.”

She looked up at him, black eyes glittering in the blue light. “If I may ask, honored Battlemaster, do you still find those who can provide such to you?”

“Yes and no,” was the answer. “I have no equal in combat. It is the battles of mind which I face today. I will conquer such eventually, but it will be many years.”

The Ravager appeared to be considering a response, but closed her mouth as the Stalker himself approached, with his advisors waiting some distance behind. Ever since the Ethereals had arrived, the Stalker of the Hegemony had been Tretiga, one of the most steadfast allies of the Ethereal Collective. Standing as tall as the Ravager, with the ceremonial crimson cape which hung off his left shoulder, and the traditional stone sword strapped to his back.

Oyariah rarely felt the need to wear armor, but there were a few that made exceptions. The Stalker was one, though aside from there being no obvious cracks where the joints would be, most would usually not know it due to the lack of any obvious markings. Both the sword and shoulder cape were enough.

The faceplates were more elaborate than most Oyariah as well. The plates visibly covered the top and back of his skull, cheeks, and there were a few plate extensions that gave the illusion of wearing a helmet than it being a connected part of his body. “Well fought, honored Battlemaster,” he stated. “The Hegemony will not forget the privilege you have bestowed upon us.”

“It was an experience I hope to repeat someday,” the Battlemaster said. “However, there were reasons I wished to speak to you.”

“Of course,” he said. “Is this between us or may the Ravager stay as well.”

“She will stay,” the Battlemaster said, glancing to the second Oyariah. “This concerns her as well.”

“Then what do you wish?” Tretiga asked.

“I want to integrate the Hegemony Titans and leadership into the Collective military,” he said. “The Oyariah have been loyal to the Ethereals, and the Hegemony deserves more representation in the Collective. Your ambitions may not have led to this goal, but the Oyariah can do more than reside in your cities forever.”

Both Oyariah seemed somewhat surprised at that, both exchanging a look. “You honor us with such a proposal,” Tretiga said slowly. “If I may inquire, the Hegemony itself would be retained but we would have a presence beyond it?”

“Correct,” the Battlemaster confirmed. “I am assembling the best of the Collective as I reorganize the military. The Titans would be fully integrated into the Collective, and either you or the Ravager would have a place on the War Council of the Collective.”

“I assume we would fight in conflicts as well,” the Ravager said. “You are not one to command from afar.”

“When appropriate,” the Battlemaster said. “I have little interested in leaders who do not participate. Having the Stalker or Ravager of the Hegemony would be sure to inspire allies and make enemies hesitate.”

“That can be arranged,” the Stalker sounded grimly happy. “I would not hesitate to test myself against the Humans and traitors. None have dared test me for decades, even if the infernal Sar’Manda have come close.”

“Their actions were highly disrespectful,” the Ravager agreed grimly. “I am surprised they were simply allowed to leave for such a grave insult.”

The Battlemaster raised a hand. “The Sar’Manda do not matter. In time they will be forgotten in their oceans while the Oyariah expand to the stars as the champions of the Elders. Do not focus on the irrelevant actions of a few in light of what is required. I presume such a proposition is acceptable to you?”

“I will consult with my advisors, and the One Encased,” the Stalker said. “But it will be little more than a formality. On behalf of the Hegemony, we are once more honored by this offer.”

“I look forward to the integration,” the Battlemaster said. “But do not become overconfident. Our enemies are dangerous and intelligent, and we need to be better in order to overcome them. That is the standard that must be held to, but I believe your race can achieve it.”

“On that, honored Battlemaster,” the Ravager said with an inclined head. “You have my word.”

***

_Training Arena – The Temple Ship of the Ethereal Collective_

_12/16/2016 – 10:01 A.M._

Yang held out the sword in front of her, completely vertical to the ground. Drawing upon her power, she focused her telekinetic grip around the weapon itself, and then slowly released her hand, letting the blade hang in the air. She then slowly walked around it, seeing if there were any dips or slips in her control.

She twisted her wrist and the short sword flew back towards her hand, landing squarely in her palm.

Well, at least she had that down.

She personally didn’t see much use in melee weapons, as they would always be inferior to psionics, but the Battlemaster was likely going to expect such a skill. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and would be more impressed. Looking at the footage of his skills, Yang was quite certain that whenever he actually met her, she would be utterly destroyed.

In which case, she could at least try and be a little creative with her fighting style. One of the historical documents regarding the Battlemasters had focused on the various fighting styles, and one that had caught her eye was one Battlemaster who had interwoven telekinesis into his fighting style, resulting in him being able to fight off or harass opponents from a relatively safe distance.

It had been regarded as one of the most difficult to actually learn and perform, as well as an increased risk of friendly fire. And if the psion ever lost control, they were usually left weaponless. Still, it was something to investigate and she had decided to try it out.

As she had found out, it was somehow _harder_ than she had anticipated.

One slip of the mind and the grip was loosened and lost. One penetrating distraction and she might be dead. She had just needed to acquaint her mind to always maintaining a passive grip on something, and then not letting anything disrupt it. On that front, she believed she had almost gotten it. She could perform all kinds of physical feats while not losing control.

Of course, this was just keeping the sword in one place. The next hurdle was actually manipulating it.

Holding the blade horizontally, she sent it back out several meters and froze it by making her palm flat. Damn, she shouldn’t be doing that. The document had specifically stated that physical gestures should only accompany the manipulation of the object if absolutely necessary. Physical limbs were a limitation, and one she had to avoid falling into.

She took a breath, and let her arm fall to the side. Focusing intently on the weapon, she thought of what to try first. Probably a few swipes and swings. The blade began to move and she consciously gripped her own arm to prevent herself from making the motion. As a result, the blade slammed into the ground, though quickly bounced up since her grip was maintained.

Alright, it was a start.

Yang was now eternally thankful that Battlemaster Quiarma had the foresight to actually write down his techniques and perform them properly. The documents had said that the Ethereal could, when focused, wield up to twelve regular-sized weapons simultaneously. She didn’t know if she could surpass that, but she was certainly going to try.

The swipes were severely overcompensating, slow, and otherwise mockeries of the real thing, but she persevered nonetheless. She barely noticed the temperature rising and her panting breath as she struggled to maintain her mental grip on the weapon. But it eventually slipped, and on a swing she sneezed and the blade went clattering to the ground.

Yang grimaced, and instinctively reached out, then stopped and kept her arm at her side. Instead she took another deep breath and mentally directed her telekinetic grip towards the weapon. It took a few minutes, but it rose and floated towards her. Once close enough, she grabbed it, pommel up and flipped it upright.

“I have to admit,” Nico said from the entrance of the training area. “I didn’t take you for a sword person.”

Yang eyed him with no small amount of suspicion. The cheeky teen had an unsettling habit of showing up out of nowhere and otherwise acting like a spy. Given how she was very adept at knowing if she was being watched, someone who could manage to surprise her was unwelcome. However, she suspected Sicarius was training him, as well as talking to him so much.

Still, she couldn’t really stay irritated at him. If there was one person who had drawn an even shorter straw in life, it was him. Her own issues seemed smaller compared to what he had gone through. Her family was still alive, mostly, but he had no one.

The Ethereals certainly had a knack for finding damaged people. She wasn’t exactly ignorant as to why that was. Soldiers fought better when they were motivated, even if it was manipulative. However, she didn’t care and she doubted Nico did either. Humanity was too violent, selfish, greedy, and stupid to do anything more than eventually blow themselves up.

If the Collective was better was up for debate, but it couldn’t really be worse. And while some considered ADVENT as the turning point for the species, they were far from it. ADVENT was exceptionally good at propaganda, but the truth was there were still _Humans_ in charge of it. They were a more competent and dangerous China, only concerned with world subjugation before all else.

They were not the _good guys_. The Imperator had quite openly revealed the lengths ADVENT and XCOM had taken to assume power. Anyone who believed they were any better than the so-called ‘brutal’ aliens was either lying, stupid, or a victim of either of those. It wasn’t as though the aliens were much better, the Sectoids certainly showed that, but that was just how the galaxy worked.

No black and white, only varying shades of grey. As far as she was concerned, ADVENT and the aliens were at roughly the same place.

She realized Nico was awaiting an answer. “Didn’t think I was,” she shrugged. “But the Battlemaster likely has expectations. Best to try and meet them.”

Nico nodded. “Ah, he still hasn’t come?”

“He’s busy fixing the mess that is the Collective,” Yang said, telekinetically summoning a water bottle. “I’m definitely _not_ on his priority list. I doubt he really wants to deal with me either. Works for me, more time means I might actually survive a few seconds before he beats me to a pulp.”

Nico smirked. “You’ll last longer than that.”

Yang looked at him incredulously. “ _Maybe_ if he’s feeling generous. Did you _see_ how quickly he took apart that XCOM squad in DC?”

The young man winced at the memory. “Fair point.”

“Yeah,” Yang took another gulp. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Sicarius want something?”

“Not today,” he said, shaking his head. “Just curious what you think of the newest resident of the Temple Ship.”

Yang shot him a look. “The Imperator found another one?”

“Yep,” Nico raised an eyebrow. “And I’m pretty sure she’s the one he’s been looking for.”

Well, that was extremely interesting. She’d only heard she was a candidate for an “Avatar Project”, but didn’t know any details. It was clear that there were different candidates per Ethereal. Nico was obviously one for Sicarius, and she suspected she would be one for the Battlemaster. There were probably others as well, but the Imperator seemed to have not chosen one for himself yet.

“Huh,” she said thoughtfully. “You know who she is?”

A retrospectively stupid question. Of _course_ Nico would know her fucking name. He had likely been the guide the first time she’d arrived. “Oh yeah,” Nico sounded rather amused. “And you’ll never guess who it is.”

The Chinese woman narrowed her ice-blue eyes. “Just tell me, I really don’t care about playing a guessing game right now.”

“Alright, alright,” he smiled. “Patricia Trask.”

Her eyes widened in shock and the water bottle in her hand crumpled. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “ _Who_ did you say?”

“You heard me right,” Nico said, getting far too much amusement out of this. “Patricia Trask. _The_ Patricia Trask.”

“ _From XCOM?!”_

“The one and only.”

Yang took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose you’d…” she paused, thinking about how best to articulate what she wanted to say. “…know just _what the fuck_ the Imperator is _thinking_?”

“Not a clue,” Nico shook his head. “But he’s apparently been in contact with her for some time. I would just ask him, because I don’t know what he would want with _her_ of all psions. Well, she is powerful-“

“But she was with _XCOM_ ,” Yang finished. “Not exactly prime ally material. Much less for whatever the hell this Avatar Project is.”

“I’m going with the assumption he knows what he is doing,” Nico shrugged. “If he can somehow make Patricia Trask an ally, then I’m not going to question it.”

Oh, she most certainly _was_ going to question it. But when she was calmer, and with more time to think. Why did the Collective keep making such idiotic decisions? Without saying goodbye, she walked back out into the arena and threw her sword in front of her, freezing it in place once again.

At least this had given her some energy. She wished there was a dummy somewhere. Preferably one with Patricia’s face on it. That would be cathartic.

***

_Desolan Orbital Station 3 – Desolan Orbit_

_12/19/2016 – 12:01 P.M._

_“I have received your report,”_ the hologram of the Zar’Chon said. _“Good work. The network was much more extensive than we imagined, although there were surprisingly few Mutons we were able to recover.”_

“Not really,” Nartha shook his head in mock disgust, and didn’t fail to note the Zar’Chon’s grudging approval. “I detailed such in the report. They played it safe above all else, and only took a few. They occasionally had to dump some of them to avoid detection. There were many, but their skill was limited.”

 _“Regardless, your actions have ended a constant annoyance on Desolan,”_ the Zar’Chon commended. _“We will take appropriate precautions to ensure this does not happen again.”_

Hopefully the Chronicler and Nulorian would be able to deal with that. “I’m glad to hear it. What is my next assignment?”

The Zar’Chon pursed his lips as he looked at something from his holoprojector prosthetic. _“The Andromedon Federation has recently moved to resume combat operations. However, it was not unanimous with several major and minor Unions rejecting such a proposal. Considering your recent successes, you are best suited for investigating the largest culprit.”_

The Andromedons. Perfect. The Zar’Chon was sending him exactly where he needed to be. “Which Union?”

 _“Union Viarior,”_ the Zar’Chon answered. _“You might have heard of them.”_

He had, although his knowledge was extremely limited. The Zararch had conducted a report on the major Unions years ago, which was still being updated as new information emerged. “The financial Union,” he recalled. “Not really the power they used to be, but still maintain tight bonds with every major Union and are the main suppliers?”

 _“An acceptable overview,”_ the Zar’Chon said grimly. _“Many of the larger Unions are attempting to become more self-sufficient, but Union Viarior still maintains a resource lock on nearly every minor Union, and still supplies basic resources to the larger ones. They managed to survive the Union Wars relatively unscathed because of this. That they are flagrantly resisting is…concerning.”_

Concerning for the Ethereals, excellent news for him. “I’ll depart soon,” he said. “Any direct orders?”

 _“No,”_ the Zar’Chon gave a thin smile. _“They cannot openly kill a Zararch agent. If they refuse to give you what you wish, report it. I doubt they will, but be prepared to have an escape plan.”_

“And what evidence do you want?” He asked. “Their word will not be enough.”

 _“If you discover suspicious or incriminating data, save it immediately and return,”_ the Zar’Chon paused. _“If you find nothing obvious, acquire a copy of their databases and return. The analysts will go through it to be sure.”_

Easy enough. “Understood.”

 _Good work again, Agent,”_ the Zar’Chon gave a brief nod. _“I await your results.”_

The holoprojector blinked off, leaving him alone…well…

He glanced around to see if there was anyone who had snuck in. No, he really was alone.

Nice of the Zar’Chon to provide such a clear roadmap. This was likely going to be much easier and straightforward than Desolan, and he felt that was deserved. Convincing an entire Union wouldn’t be the easiest thing, but he could be persuasive when he needed.

And with such an influential Union behind them, this entire resistance might be gradually forming into a threat. They were still some ways off from that, but at last, the endgame was in sight.

***

_The Prism Command Center, Blacksite 009 – Unknown Location_

_12/19/2016 – 1:11 P.M._

The newly reformed Collective War Council was ultimately much better than his previous attempt at such. All of those he’d chosen were skilled, intelligent, and were capable of thinking for themselves. They would also have far more responsibility than before, as he had decided to begin the delegation of certain aspects of the Collective Military.

The Ravager of the Hegemony was the first, who could be substituted with the Stalker himself when he wished, and she was primarily in charge of managing and coordinating close-ranged units, city conquests, and determining training regimes and tactics of the Collective. She also directly managed all Oyariah forces and was responsible for establishing, then maintaining, lines of communication between the Hegemony and Collective.

Lur’galitai’borelia was one of the highest-ranked Borelians in the Lurainian, and until recently on the Borelian Authoritative Council as a consultant and trainer. Older for a Borelian, with some of her fur beginning to turn silver, she was still in peak physical form. She would be in charge of all aspects of the Lurainian, and have a similar role to the Ravager in terms of setting up lines of communication between the Council and Collective.

Her responsibilities also included managing the Borelians in the military, and was the primary authority on special forces strikes and general battlefield command if needed. He was confident she could handle it, even if it was a far larger workload than she had experienced before.

Then there was Zar’vacialla’intha, the representative from the Zararch, who could be substituted for the Zar’Chon if needed. As expected, her role was to provide combat intelligence on any defenses, targets, and personnel they would face. The Vitakarian would also oversee sabotage and target prioritization, as well as ensure unit morale was within acceptable limits.

The Zar’Chon had assured him she was capable, and he expected such.

Sci’darolo’vititay was another Vitakarian, a scientist who would oversee the genetic modification programs, applications, and recruiting efforts. He had some authority over the Vitakarians in the military, but only if others were not available. He was not a soldier, but he was one of the more open-minded when it came to self-improvement. Having a direct connection to both the Republic and Revelean’s science team was also an added benefit.

There was J’Loran, who had command of Andromedon forces now, and served as the primary link to both the Collective and Fectorian’s engineering teams. Disciple-7 had similarly retained his role and was tentatively overseeing Muton deployment, training, and improvement, as well as serving as a tactical consultant.

The final member was somewhat controversial, and it was Hive Commander 801, the one whose Hive was the primary designer for all Sectoid spacecraft. While usually an architect and designer, 801 was also knowledgeable about space combat and would serve as both the naval coordinator, and link to the Hive Commanders themselves. While some were not thrilled, it was important that all species have at least some representation here.

“Custodian integration will take some time,” J’Loran said, as they were finishing discussing Fectorian’s improvements. “There is the question of how we handle such integration, especially in regards to publicity. These are not sentient machines.”

“There is little point in keeping it a secret,” the Ravager said. “It will not take ADVENT or XCOM long to notice what is happening.”

“Agreed,” Vacialla said thoughtfully. “It is important the soldiers know what they are working with, and the contingencies in place in the event of psionic interference.”

“There is no reason to keep this secret,” the Battlemaster said. “Allow the soldiers this knowledge, unless there are objections.”

There were none, so he moved on. “Concerning the genetic enhancement, it is something which needs to be refined, as well as ensuring the soldiers are psychologically able to properly fight.”

“This will take time,” Darolo said slowly. “Even working with the Hive Commanders and Revelean, it will take some time to prepare the appropriate modifications, as there are multiple species. Progress is being made, but it will take longer to actually fully improve what is left of the Runianarch and Lurainian. Keep in mind that there are many Vitakara who have an aversion of genetic modification, and it is better to slowly introduce this idea.”

“The amount of soldiers which are needed on Earth are small in comparison to the greater Collective,” Disciple-7 stated. “There is no need to rush, and the enhanced Mutons and Custodians will provide the needed infantry power. Upon the deployment of the Herald and Executor, this needed number will further decrease.”

 _The modifications will likely take less time than expected,_ 801 interjected. _With the full capabilities of the Hive Commanders behind it, there is more than enough time to enhance an army for Earth._

“Regardless of that, there is still the issue of what to do with the Vitakara not cleared for combat,” Darolo added. “It would be a waste to return them to Vitakar, but they are not suited for the battlefield.”

“Two options present themselves,” Disciple-7 said. “Either as support, medical duty, or suppliers for standard operations, or colony and homeworld defense. It will provide the colonies with additional support, as well as give Vitakar an armed presence besides the Zararch. Perhaps this can be what the Aui’Vitakar establish.”

Darolo rubbed his forehead. “It will take…a significant amount of time to cover the entirety of the Runianarch.”

“We have time,” the Battlemaster said. “We control the pace of this war, and I will not have us rush into it hastily again. When we strike next, it will result in a victory. Anything else will be a failure.” At the nods and affirmations around him, he looked down to the holotable and activated it. “The Prism will now be used as the main simulation, which I expect to be used frequently. But to do that, all of you need to be briefed on its capabilities.”

As he explained it to them, he was fairly confident that they were once more moving in the right direction. He wouldn’t know for sure until he stepped foot on Earth again, but it was promising.

***

_Patricia’s Quarters – The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_12/19/2018 – 11:12 A.M._

Patricia sat on her bed, oblivious to the world around her as she finally decided to accept what she had been avoiding the past couple of days. She knew what she _should_ do. She should flatly refuse the Imperator’s offer, do whatever it took to return to Earth, even if it meant her death. But she didn’t even think the Imperator was lying to her about that.

She could return to XCOM and…she didn’t think much would change.

And things _had_ to change. With what she’d learned from the Imperator, things couldn’t be the same. The war on Earth didn’t seem as important in comparison, nor the Imperator an unreasonable Ethereal. But she didn’t know if she could actually convince the Commander, let alone Aegis about even considering hearing the Imperator out, or herself for that matter.

If she left, and failed to convince them, she would likely die for nothing or see Humanity fall under the influence of a Sovereign One. And with the Commander’s desire to implement the Manchurian Restraints, it would kill any attempt to stop his plans. What had seemed a responsible means to ensuring psions didn’t turn on Humanity might very well be their downfall.

Ironic how her views on that had completely changed. But it wasn’t for the reasons like most would say. It had nothing to do with freedom, liberty, or ethics, but instead because it would make them incapable to following a path not dictated by the Commander or ADVENT. They were leading humanity down a misguided path, but one they simply didn’t know about.

They thought, _she_ had thought, they were in the right. And from their perspective, they were. But the Imperator had filled in the gaps, and she couldn’t easily dispute his words. Was there different ways he could have accomplished this goal? Likely, but he was treading a fine and dangerous line with being of such power.

She would go back to XCOM, but not now.

For now she would stay here, learn everything she could. Find enough to definitively prove that the Imperator was correct in what he said, then return and present it to the Commander. He was not unreasonable, but even so she feared that he would be too blinded by what had already happened to consider that the Imperator might not be the enemy.

So that was her plan for now.

What she did not know was if it was the right one.

But knowing what the Imperator had told her, there seemed no other acceptable path.


	35. Research and Engineering IX

 

_Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_12/14/2016 – 1:17 P.M._

A funeral was never something he enjoyed attending, which he supposed was a good thing, but it wasn’t even that simple for him. The Commander believed funerals should be held to honor and remember the dead by their close friends and family. Funerals were supposed to be personal and private.

He could understand to an extent the thousands at the funeral of Nicole Treduant, finally being held now that D.C. was in an appropriate state, but at the same time turning this into a kind of public, televised event, was not something he supported. Very few of these people had ever known her, and even he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be here since it wasn’t as though he knew her all that well either.

Yet out of everyone in XCOM, he was the most qualified. And anyone who stood against the Battlemaster and died for it deserved to be remembered.

He gave no speeches or calls to action. Others had done that. Her husband, then the now-President Harry Goldbloom, even Saudia had given a short speech. All had extolled her as a model leader and example of Humanity. All had called for her death not to be forgotten. He had not been ignorant of the glances sent his way, but all he did was sit at his designated seat and listen politely.

He was sad she had died, but he did not mourn. He didn’t know her well enough for that, and he doubted she would want them too. Paying his own silent tribute, he simply listened and followed the procession until she was lowered into Arlington Cemetery. Nicole Treduant, the second President to find themselves on an active battlefield, and the first to die in combat.

At the end there was a small memorial where those invited could place mementos, flowers, or other trinkets. Most left exactly those, and he had brought one of his own. It was a small ribbonless medallion shaped into the familiar XCOM emblem. Grey and colorless, the only identifying marks were some short words inscribed on the back of the medallion.

_To Nicole Treduant, 45 th President of the United States, who gave her life to halt the alien threat. Vigilo Confido._

Generic, he felt, but it summarized what she had done well enough on the limited space. At least she deserved all the attention she was receiving now, and she also probably would approve of becoming a rallying point for ADVENT, and America specifically. She had been an exceptionally popular president and her death had fully secured America as an ADVENT supporter.

To suggest otherwise was nigh-traitorous. American nationalism was finally becoming somewhat useful, as long as it was directed against the aliens, anyway. There were already plans to erect a statue in her honor on the lawn of the White House. ADVENT was going to use her status for all it was worth.

In another time it probably would have been seen in bad taste, but in war they needed every advantage they could.

“At least it didn’t rain,” Saudia sounded subdued as she walked up. “One thing to be thankful for I suppose.”

He grunted, but didn’t smile. Saudia looked exactly the same as she always did; so did he, mostly. The natural black of ADVENT and XCOM made for natural funeral attire. Neither of them were armed, though her personal guard were standing just out of earshot and keeping harassers away.

“You’re quiet,” she finally said, clasping her hands in front of her. “Something I should be aware of? You’re not the sentimental type, even if you did respect her.”

He pursed his lips, glancing over at her. To say that there was ‘something to be aware of’ was something of an understatement that all of them were still trying to puzzle out. “Yes,” he finally said as the people began filing out. “But not here. It isn’t good though.”

She took it in stride with a single nod. “How bad?”

“The Imperator has become more involved.”

Saudia grimaced. “I suppose that is to be expected. Aegis, and now you took Caelior…” she furrowed her eyebrows. “What ended up happening to him anyway?”

“He’s under control. Currently locked away where he isn’t a danger.”

“Well, the point is the Imperator would become involved at some point,” Saudia continued. “I would be more suspicious if he did nothing.”

The Commander debated trying to argue the point that the Imperator doing _anything_ meant that it was going to be _very, very bad_ for them. However, she’d learn that soon enough. Nonetheless, she had a point. The Imperator did have some restraint in waiting as long as he did, but it didn’t make his actions any easier to tolerate. “You need to prepare the PRIEST Program,” he said slowly. “The Restraints are nearly complete.”

“A relief,” Saudia said, crossing her arms. “Some good news then. I’ll be sure to let them know. How soon?”

“Within three weeks.”

“Understood,” she turned once more to face him. “ADVENT has a lot of work to do. I suspect XCOM is taking advantage of this lull as well. I’ll be speaking to you later, Commander. Good luck.”

He gave a wry smile. “Appreciated, Chancellor.”

Saudia walked off, leaving him standing beside a bunch of empty chairs as everyone in the cemetery began leaving the premises. And he really had no reason to stick around either, since he had no meeting plans here. Those weren’t typical for him at funerals. And he had _plenty_ of work to do back at the Praesidium.

However, that didn’t seem to stop one particular woman from coming up to him out of the corner of his eye. She stood, appraising him for a brief moment. He raised an eyebrow and turned to her inquisitively. “Are you looking for someone?”

The woman was certainly…unique. Just under six feet, shoulder-length white hair, green eyes, and a scar running vertical over her left eye, and a fairly confrontational pose. She was dressed in something closer to military fatigues than formal dress wear, though certainly none he’d ever really seen. Although after some time, black fatigues all started to look the same.

“You’re the Commander of XCOM,” she glanced around. “No personal escort? Would have thought you would have one.”

He gave a humorless smile. “Unnecessary. I can handle myself just fine.”

“So I’ve heard,” she glanced around again, making him wonder who she was. The British accent mostly nailed down where she was from, but she definitely didn’t seem to belong here.

“Who are you?” He asked finally. “Most people don’t talk to me unless they have a purpose.”

“Deepest apologies,” she said, quickly extending a hand. “Fiona Dorren. I’m an…associate of a friend of a friend. Think you know of her. Agent Gertrude.”

The Commander cocked his head. “You’re a survivor of Australia?” He asked, knowing there were two _very_ different possibilities here, one significantly more dangerous than the other. “And I don’t remember Agent Gertrude mentioning you.”

“Friend of a friend,” Fiona repeated.  “I was one of Mr. Harper’s people.”

“When you say that…”

“I mean to say that he would like to let you know he made it out of that dangerous situation,” Fiona said carefully, unsubtly glancing around again. “And that he’ll be re-establishing contact as soon as he can.”

Well, that was certainly interesting news. “Tell him I look forward to it,” the Commander said with a nod. “And you need to work on being inconspicuous. ADVENT is definitely watching you.”

She blinked. “Say again?”

He sighed. “Just make sure you aren’t followed when you leave.”

She smiled at that and backed away in farewell. “Don’t worry about that. No one can follow me where I go. See you, Commander.” She spun on a heel and walked away doing everything someone who wanted to remain inconspicuous did not. Going off on her own, not sticking to crowds, not wearing proper attire, and seeming _far_ too focused and chipper for a funeral.

What an odd woman. Perhaps it was to be expected that a Sovereign One wouldn’t pick people who care about that, but there was still room for improvement. For better or worse though, it appeared he was going to have a meeting with the illustrious Sovereign One soon enough.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be for some time. There was a lot of work to do.

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/14/2016 – 8:10 P.M._

“Any plans you have to bring her back should be dismissed,” Aegis said flatly. “She is gone.”

“For now,” the Commander wasn’t quite ready to write off Patricia, even if Aegis seemed to be more than willing. “She’s smart and tough.”

“She is with the Imperator now,” Aegis repeated, sounding frustrated. “She is _lost_.”

“Do you really think he’s going to try and turn her?” The Commander demanded, beginning to pace. “Does he think that would _work_?”

Aegis sharply inhaled. “That is _exactly_ what he intends. Why do you think he was trying to communicate with her so much?”

“And you said that he doesn’t directly mind control people he finds interesting,” Vahlen pointed out, speaking up for the first time. “Patricia would not be easily swayed. Would he torture her?”

“Unlikely,” Aegis shook his head. “He would consider it a waste of time, and a failure on his part. But it isn’t as simple. People _change_ when they stay around the Imperator for too long. She cannot protect herself forever.”

“And following his logic,” the Commander continued. “He would know the effect he causes and not abuse it.”

If Ethereals could make faces of frustration, the Commander knew it would be on his face. Even if he could, his helmet hid it completely. “The point, Commander, is that we cannot expect Patricia to be alive or the same if we see her. We need to move on.”

“On that I think we can all agree,” Zhang stated, his face set in stone. The entire event had definitely shaken all of them, but Zhang had especially found it disturbing. “She is out of our reach for now. There is no question of it.”

“What we need to figure out is how we will respond,” Jackson stepped forward. “The public is going to want to know what happened to her, and they _will_ notice her absence. More importantly…this can’t go unpunished. They kidnapped one of our own.”

“And we now have Caelior,” Aegis said with a shrug of his shoulders. “The Imperator likely saw that as a fair trade, if he even considered such things when deciding on this course of action.”

“Except we beat Caelior ourselves,” Jackson’s eyes flashed. “This isn’t anywhere close to the same situation. It’s one thing to lose and her be taken captive. It’s another to cheat with telepathy.”

Zhang sniffed. “And what gave you the impression that the Imperator cares about _fairness_?”

Jackson scowled, but didn’t really have an answer for that.

“You raise a good point,” the Commander said after a few moments, stepping forward to the holotable. “This is yet another escalation, and we will respond in kind. There is no more holding back when we fight their kind.” After pressing a few buttons, the hologram of a nuclear warhead appeared. “Normally I would be against indiscriminate nuking of alien positions. At least on Earth. But the aliens have helpfully established Gateways in their territory connecting to their military bases within their space.” He tapped the table. “The policy regarding Gateway capture has changed. Prior to separation we will send through a salted nuclear warhead and sever the connection.”

It was, admittedly, a provocative step, but the Commander didn’t necessarily care what the Collective felt. They had kidnapped one of his soldiers, and there would be retribution. It was why he had chosen salted nukes instead of standard ones. Denying their base, and poisoning the land for generations would send a suitable message and destroy a base in the process.

“Risky,” Zhang pointed out. “We don’t know if they get reinforcements from Earth. We might accidentally-“

“Unlikely,” the Commander shook his head. “Gateways display their coordinate planes. If it is within a certain number we can determine if it’s on Earth. Then we’ll just send in something more conventional.”

“If I may,” Shen interrupted, looking mildly concerned. “Where, ah, are we acquiring these weapons? ADVENT?”

“No,” the Commander gave a thin smile, pressing some more buttons. “We’re making our own. Thanks to your construction efforts, Shen, we now have three satellite bases.” The world map came up, with red dots highlighting the bases Shen had virtually overseen as they were constructed. Most in XCOM didn’t know about them yet, but he’d felt it was important to diversify. He pointed at one. “Manhattan Base will handle the construction of all heavy ordinance, which will include nuclear weapons.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements,” Shen sighed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time until we reached this point.”

“Since we’re on this topic,” Jackson said. “Have you decided what the other bases are for?”

“Yes,” the Commander highlighted the next one. “Since ADVENT has so helpfully decided to send certain useful alien defectors to us, they should have their own lodge. I don’t want to intermix them with our soldiers immediately. Paperclip Base will primarily house our alien defectors, including Aegis if he wishes.”

“Separating them does not seem advisable,” Aegis warned. “Not if your goal is integration.”

“I said house,” the Commander repeated. “All Gateways will connect to the Praesidium, which will serve as a central hub. Nothing prevents Humans or aliens from interacting with each other. But the aliens should have a space they have some control over, and with some oversight, it will give them some assumed freedoms.”

“Speaking with various aliens reinforces this,” Vahlen interjected. “In fact, some have expressed how they prefer Human architecture over this as they find Sectoid architecture disquieting. And most are not used to large amounts of Humans, especially those who were until recently their enemies. It is better for the mental health of all that they have a separate place of residence.”

“Then I will oversee them, if you do not mind,” Aegis said.

“That would be acceptable,” the Commander nodded. “They will prefer having you enforce guidelines than a Human.”

“Right,” Jackson stepped forward, looking towards the last base. “And this one?”

“Ah, yes,” the Commander nodded towards Vahlen. “Prometheus Base. The new Science Division of XCOM overseen by Dr. Vahlen. Due to the constraints imposed by current projects, the research team needs greater resources and room.”

Jackson gave a wan smirk. “Poor Shen.”

“I will remind you I also am overseeing a nuclear weapons research and production facility,” the elderly engineer reminded her. “And the Commander has also informed me that once the Science teams depart, the spaces they formerly occupied would be replaced by the Cybernetic and AI teams. I am not receiving the short end here.”

“Oh,” Jackson said, looking slightly mollified.

“And Shen just covered everything else,” the Commander motioned towards him, while looking back towards the holotable. “More soldiers will be coming soon as we expand. ADVENT is also expanding their Gateway networks, and soon every major base will have immediate reinforcement capabilities. However, we need to focus on ways to mitigate telepathy. We’ve seen the danger it poses now, and until we can protect ourselves from it…we cannot win this war.”

“The Manchurian Restraints will keep our psions under control,” Zhang mused. “But as a defense against telepathy it is a crude one at best.”

“If I may, Commander,” Shen said slowly. “This is a subject both Vahlen and I have been discussing at length. We have several possible solutions to show you very soon.”

“Right,” he briefly glanced at her. “You did mention this at one point.” He looked up at the Ethereal. “Until then, will you be able to sense if the Imperator tries to take control again?”

“I will likely be able to detect it,” Aegis answered. “Stopping it…I do not know. Perhaps for myself, but certainly not for everyone.”

“We’ll have to make do,” the Commander sighed. “Continue with the projects and operations. Dismissed.”

***

_Commander’s Quarters, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/15/2016 12:05 A.M._

It was definitely harder to get to sleep the past few days.

Though it didn’t really seem to be affecting Vahlen too much. Then again, she hadn’t really been aware of what had been happening and the Imperator had likely ignored her. In fact, he’d likely intentionally ignored her _because_ she was a fairly powerful telepath in her own right.

Regardless, he’d never really thought much about what it felt like to be on the receiving end of being mind controlled, and now that he had, he never wanted to feel it again. Knowing what he wanted to do, yet being unable to no matter how much he tried. And there was no mental hurdle to overcome when his mind was no longer his to begin with.

This was something they should have been trying to solve long ago.

The end of the war wasn’t going to be determined by weapons, numbers, or bombs, but by which side used psionics the most effectively. It might also come down to Sovereign technology as well. One which they were still learning about, but would never be as powerful as an Ethereal, and the other they were struggling to comprehend at all.

If they couldn’t reach the heights of the Ethereals, then they could keep trying to negate them.

Hampering their telepathy was imperative. It was no longer a matter of debate.

The Commander slowly got into bed beside Vahlen, careful so as not to wake her, and finally rested against her while closing his eyes. She must have been exhausted if he hadn’t woken her there, since she almost always did, no matter how much he tried. Well, given recent events, he could understand that.

Although it did remind him about something which had fallen by the wayside. Christmas was coming up. He was torn between making that a no-work day for everyone with a substantial bonus, or treating it as normal and doubling that bonus. It was at the stage where he didn’t know if they could _afford_ to take off a day.

Yes, everyone deserved one day off, but that one day could be crucial…

Well, maybe he was being a bit hyperbolic. But the other slight issue was that the holidays were to be spent with family, as well as friends. Most people here had at least some family outside XCOM, and while he could probably have one day with no work, he couldn’t very well risk losing any personnel on short vacations (In addition to taking up time, the Zararch might be watching).

Although that did tie back to another vulnerability that could come up in the future. If the Collective figured out who was in XCOM, their families might become targets. That was not an acceptable risk, especially since the conflict already made them stressed about the safety of their family.

There was one solution. Another base be built which would house the families of XCOM personnel. It might not be as comfortable as some of them were used too, but they would be safe and see their loved ones regularly.

Shen would have to figure out appropriate dimensions. This wouldn’t be an easy undertaking, assuming the Internal Council agreed to its necessity in the first place.

Something to keep in mind. That was a problem for another day.

Although he should probably get Vahlen something. Something she’d like. He had a few days, something could be done.

***

_Templar Training Arena, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/15/2016 – 10:31 A.M._

Nuan really wished that they could just have a victory with no drawbacks for once. They’d captured an Ethereal, resecured Japan, and China and ADVENT were working together to an extent. Everything was actually going very well, until the aliens had managed to kidnap Patricia. The rumors she’s heard about _how_ that happened were terrifying.

None of those involved were talking about it, though had, and still looked unnerved wherever they went. Most of them were dealing with it by beating stuff up or exhausting themselves. Carmelita was currently trying to take down an icy Iosif who was casually deflecting her strikes with psionic shields, to a small crowd of onlookers.

One of whom was an _Oyariah_.

Who was now staring at her.

She did not like that.

 _Oh great, he’s coming towards me._ Trying not to look too nervous, she looked up at the three-meter hunk of chiseled stone. They might have that as their skin, but to her it definitely looked like hardened stone. Technically the alien was probably naked right now, but thankfully not _that_ naked. “You,” he rumbled. “You are not one of the Templars. I have not seen you before.”

“I’m not,” she answered casually, or as casually as she could. “I’m…watching.” She nodded towards the dueling soldiers. “Iosif, mostly. You know who he is, I assume?”

“Ah, yes,” the big alien nodded, voice lightening in recognition. “An admirable Human. I did not realize he had a mate.”

If Nuan had been drinking water, she would have spat it and instead made some sort of hacking sound before responding. “I am not his _mate_ , alien!”

She didn’t fail to notice one of the other soldiers snickering at the exchange, who she didn’t recognize so she narrowed her eyes when shooting him a quick glance before returning to deal with the alien. “What gave you _that_ idea?”

“Hm, unfortunate,” the Oyariah incredulously didn’t back down, instead appraising her. “Although perhaps it’s for the best. You’re too small for him.”

“ _Small_ ,” she sputtered. “Why does _that_ actually matter?”

The Oyariah looked at her, with an unreadable expression, but she suspected it was incredulity. “Because any little Human offspring you bear will be limited. This is an accepted standard, I would expect Humans to follow similar principles.”

Nuan looked at him, then looked down at her gleaming fists. She was _sorely_ tempted to hit this smug and idiotic alien in the face and see how he liked _small_. “You have no idea how women work, do you?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “And you are also not an adequate choice because your children might be born with metal arms. A tragic deficiency.”

“You…” she paused. “Was that a _joke_?”

The Oyariah rumbled, which she assumed was laughter. “Most of it, yes, I am glad some found it amusing.”

Nuan briefly turned to the soldier who had been snickering at her, along with his friend, and glared at him until he went away. “Funny,” she said. “I didn’t know you could make jokes.”

“It sometimes is useful to play into the stereotype Humans expect for us,” the Oyariah answered. “Elder Aegis has been exceptionally helpful in educating us about certain details of your species. Humor is especially prevalent, though seems to be highly subjective depending on the individual.”

“Yeah.” She glanced over to see the duel was wrapping up, with Iosif just deciding to trap Carmelita in a stasis field, before selectively leaving her head unprotected. With her glaring murder at him, he smiled and gently tapped her on the forehead with a finger mouthing _“Dead”._

Nuan smirked. “My first question was not entirely a joke,” the Oyariah said. “But why are you here? I have observed few spectators.”

She thought for a moment. “I like watching it. And Iosif’s one of my few friends here.” She shrugged. “Not too complicated, at least to me.”

“I am sure he appreciates it,” the alien said. “He has mentioned as much. Unfortunate you are not trained in melee, as you are suited for it with your arms.”

“Sure,” Nuan flexed them in reflex. “But I prefer to stay _away_ from the danger. I’ve seen what the Titans can do up close. I’d prefer not to be crushed. I got close enough when that Berserker almost killed me, thank you very much.”

The alien reached behind him and unhooked one of the black warhammers she’d seen the Titans use. “I am pleased that we are respected by your kind. I will in turn prove my worth on the field of battle, one reason I am here today.”

“Oh?” She was actually surprised at that. “The Commander is letting you actually fight?”

“Aegis has allowed it, provided we follow the established guidelines,” the Oyariah said. “Though I suspect not immediately. Some will likely doubt me.”

Nuan couldn’t disagree, although for an alien, he was easier to talk to than she was expecting. “What’s your name? And don’t give me the long Vitakara version, just the short one.”

“Xarian, formerly of the Guard of the Ravager,” he said with pride. “Now within the service of Elder Aegis.”

“Right,” she nodded. “And…who is the Ravager?”

Xarian grew somewhat serious at that. “The Ravager is the…Commander…of the Titans. The finest of our warriors, her skill perhaps surpassing that of the Stalker himself. To be chosen for her Guard was a high honor, but one that pales in comparison to an Elder.”

“Hello, what do we have here?” Iosif raised an eyebrow as he walked over. “I see you’re both getting along. Good.”

“I will allow you to rest and then test you shortly,” Xarian said, resting his weapon on his shoulder. “I suspect you wish to speak to the one who is not your mate.” With that he walked off, sounding far too satisfied with the conclusion.

Iosif’s face though was a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, which was odd enough to make her snort. “Ah,” he coughed. “Did I miss something?”

“His idea of a joke,” Nuan smirked. “He apparently assumed I was your mate, and if I wasn’t, it was a good thing because my children would be small and have metal arms.” She glanced behind her at the soldiers getting ready to train. “Certain people found the exchange…amusing.”

“Fucking alien,” he muttered. “He knows damn well…” he shook his head. “Never mind. Cheeky bastard.”

Nuan decided to let the matter drop, although for a joke, Iosif did not seem to be taking it as one. Or more like he was not brushing it off right away, let alone dismissing it as ridiculous. To be fair, she was doing the same thing.

Yeah, best to drop it for now. “How’s she doing?” Nuan nodded to Carmelita.

“Still rattled,” Iosif shook his head. “What happened was bad. Creed described it to me, and asked me not to share. Letting her beat up on me is good for her. But they’ll all be fine.”

“Will Creed though?” Nuan pursed her lips. “I know they were together.”

“He could have reacted two ways,” Iosif said slowly. “It could have sent him in a downward spiral, or it would make him angry. He has gone the latter route. The good news is that he knows Patricia can take care of herself, and so at the first available opportunity, he’s going to rescue her. He’s apparently going to Aegis to figure out how best to kill an Ethereal.”

Nuan looked up at his tired face skeptically. “He doesn’t stand a chance against an Ethereal.”

“Alone?” Iosif snorted. “Definitely not. But he won’t be taking an operation like that alone. And at the end, I’ll let him kill any Ethereals we come across. Better for him to be angry and focused than depressed. He’s furious by what happened, but it luckily didn’t break him.”

“So…” Nuan paused. “She had a spot on the Council, right? Who’s taking over?”

“Unknown,” Iosif shrugged. “Heard some names being thrown around. Problem is there aren’t a lot of senior psions left, aside from me and the last two Furies, and the latter are not really trained for leadership roles. Current speculation is between myself and…Geist.”

“Fuck Geist,” she spat. “He doesn’t deserve the position. Especially not compared to _you_.”

“Oh believe me,” Iosif gave a wan smile. “Not many of us are fans of the idea. But despite being a jerk and person of questionable character, he _is_ smart, not to mention skilled and powerful. Probably more than me, if we’re being honest.”

“No.” Nuan could state that firmly. “Power doesn’t dictate everything, and you’re a far better leader and man than Geist could ever hope to be. The Commander will see that.”

“Can’t say I’m not hoping for that,” Iosif sighed, rubbing his forehead. “But he’s also practical. I’m a very…traditional choice…for lack of a better word. I’m military. I’m a standard psion. I’ve been with XCOM for a while, I know how things work. Geist does offer a different and unique perspective, like it or not.”

“The perspective of a sociopath,” Nuan muttered. “But sure.”

“But…” Iosif raised a finger. “If I do so happen to be selected, I do think a celebration would be in order. Want to join me? And you can give some more details about how your little meeting with the Chinese went.”

Nuan crossed her arms. “Well, what isn’t classified, of course. And what if you aren’t?”

“Well, we still get together, but also make jokes about our new Director of Psionic Operations,” Iosif said. “Sound good?”

“I think so,” Nuan smiled. “And if you aren’t picked, then I’ll be sure to criticize that choice in my next letter to my superiors.”

Iosif chuckled. “I hope you do, and I get to read the redaction.”

They both shared a laugh at that. Things could definitely be a lot bleaker than they were. Best to enjoy them while they lasted.

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/16/2016 – 11:49 A.M._

The Commander did not expect this meeting to take long, but before making the final decision he needed to get the approval of the Internal Council. In the end, it had been a fairly easy decision. Shen looked up and gave an approving nod. “A good choice. He will serve well as a replacement for Patricia in her absence.”

“Agreed,” Vahlen nodded. “While he isn’t the most powerful, he is the most qualified for the position.”

Shen grimaced. “With the added bonus of having some basic respect for the people around him.”

He wasn’t surprised at those two. He glanced to Zhang. “Thoughts, Director?”

“I cannot find a reason to disqualify him,” Zhang said slowly, putting the tablet he was holding down. “But I am not convinced that Templar Bronis is the best choice. While he is skilled, Geist has quantifiably surpassed him.”

“So is Hammarström,” Shen pointed out. “Should we award positions based on their Trask Level?”

“Agreed on that point,” Jackson leaned against the wall. “Geist is powerful and skilled. But he isn’t well-liked or even cares to make changes to himself. Not a person I want to work with here.”

“There is also the small fact that he manipulated one of _my_ soldiers,” the Commander added. “Someone who does that to those under their command is not one I will appoint to this Council without exceptional reason. Geist can serve the same purpose just as well on his own.”

“Your point stands,” Zhang nodded. “I won’t contest it. But he will likely feel slighted.”

The Commander raised an incredulous eyebrow. “And…just _why_ should that be concerning…at all? If he feels so slighted, he can come ask and I’ll tell him _exactly_ why he failed to be chosen.”

“He shouldn’t be,” Zhang clarified. “But his psychological profile indicates that he may feel so regardless. Just so you are aware of the possibility.”

“I think we’re also overlooking the fact that this position comes with administrative work,” Shen reminded them. “As we are all well aware. Iosif has some experience in this, while I am sure Geist would not feel it is important enough to devote his time to doing it.”

Jackson rolled her eyes. “Geist is the kind of guy who would hire a bunch of secretaries to do that for him while he plays with psionics all day.”

“We shouldn’t sell Iosif short here,” the Commander said. “He’s one of the longest-serving soldiers in XCOM, a good leader, a trained and skilled psion, and most importantly for someone in this position – he _respects_ the power he wields and the consequences of misuse. I do not want a psionic supremacist on this Council, nor one who believes in their unrestrained use.” He looked around the room. “Are there any objections?”

“None noted, Commander,” Jackson said as they all shook their heads or gave negatives. “You want to give him the news or should I?”

“I’ll give it to him,” the Commander said. “Tell him to meet in my office within the hour.”

“Yes, Commander,” Jackson made a note on her tablet. “We have anything else we need to discuss?”

“There is,” the Commander rested his hands on the holotable. “I believe we should consider the addition of two more positions on this Council. The first would be in the vein of Van Doorn’s position of Tactical Advisor, but they would be drawn from our soldiers. A Ground Commander, more familiar with the operations in the field, which I normally am not. They would ideally have a better understanding of the soldiers and armaments than the rest of us.”

“Carmelita Alba and Anius Creed stand out as candidates,” Jackson said. “I’ll check the roster, but I can likely find one or two more. Archangels Hammarström and Morrow have both shown to be capable leaders and soldiers.”

“We’re not deciding candidates today,” the Commander quickly clarified, raising a hand. “Just deciding if we want to extend the Council in the first place.”

“To do that we need to know the other position,” Shen said.

Here it went. “Since ADVENT has decided that we get all of the aliens who are willing to fight, it would not be a bad idea to have an alien representative on this Council as well. One who, like the proposed Ground Commander, knows the aliens better than us.”

Vahlen furrowed her eyebrows. “Is that not what Aegis provides?”

“Aegis is a special case,” Zhang pointed out. “And not a good representative for the average alien soldier. He is also an…advisor, not directly on the Council, which this proposed position would entail.”

“I suppose you’re intending to deploy aliens in combat?” Shen said. “Last I heard you hadn’t decided.”

“With the Manchurian Restraints, loyalty won’t be a concern,” the Commander said. “The aliens are useful assets, but if we’re going to use them, they need their own representative here.”

“I’m not opposed to the concept,” Jackson said slowly, biting her lip as she thought. “The issue is that it’ll be difficult to find an alien I can definitively say _is_ on our side. These are defectors. They haven’t really _done_ anything for us yet.”

“I am in agreement on that,” Zhang said. “Let us see how the aliens perform in combat before allowing them access to the secrets of XCOM. I do not trust all of them, and none of them to hold a seat here. They would need to renounce their species for the good of Humanity.”

“At minimum I want potential candidates,” the Commander told Jackson, before looking to Zhang. “But you have a point. They need to earn their place here. But they _should_ be aware this is a possibility…if they perform well.”

The light glinted off Zhang’s scar as he gave a brief nod. “That is acceptable. We should revisit this matter once we have deployed aliens into the field. I do support the addition of a Ground Commander position within the Council.”

“As do I,” Jackson confirmed. “Objections to anything Zhang said?”

At the silence, the Central Officer made a brief note. “Alright, settled then. You’ll have your list, Commander. When do you want to appoint a Ground Commander.”

“Within a week.”

“You’ll have a list from me tomorrow,” she promised. “And I’ll have Yates begin conducting interviews among the aliens. I’ll also pick out subjects of note.”

“Excellent, Central,” the Commander looked around at all of them. “That’s all for now. Dismissed.”

***

_Engineering Bay, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/17/2016 – 9:11 A.M._

Anna only had one thing to say as they looked upon one of the newest inventions of the XCOM Engineering team. “Cool.”

“Cool,” Sierra echoed. “I like the name too.”

“The Valkyrie,” Anna read the name painted on the ‘wings’ of the aerial MEC. “Yep. Don’t think there’s a more fitting one for it. Almost makes me want to get the implants to fly one of those.”

“No, you really don’t,” Sierra said, shaking her head. “You won’t have enough of yourself left to enjoy it. But both of us can just admire it from afar.”

“Is that still a thing?” Anna questioned, as they turned away and began walking through the busy workshop. “By now I’d think they’d have figured out how to remove that problem.”

“I don’t really know,” Sierra admitted with a shrug as she scooted past some engineers. “Just assuming. In any event, I’m not really thrilled with the prospect of cutting off my limbs. So that idea’s out for me.”

“You can’t get hurt then,” Anna reminded her. “I’m pretty sure they overhaul what’s left of your organic parts too. Could be nice.”

“Yeah, you haven’t talked with our more loyal Chinese resident then,” Sierra snorted. “You can’t feel pain, but you really can’t feel _anything_ else. Nuan definitely wishes she had her weaker flesh arms back.”

The young woman grimaced. “Fair enough…” she trailed off. “Is that Geist?”

Sierra narrowed her eyes and looked to where Anna was pointing. From this distance it certainly seemed to be. The figure was standing with an almost mechanical posture as he looked down on a table that held…something. There were two other engineers nearby, both of whom seemed to be helping him.

“Looks like it,” Sierra said, moving forwards. “Let’s see what he’s doing.”

They only made it a few steps away before Geist raised a hand, not turning to them. “If you must know, I have acquired the assistance of several engineers to gather some data on the Sectoid Vanguard weapons.”

Oh right, he apparently liked reading their minds. She heard a loud sigh. “It’s not as simple as choosing not to, Archangel. I have as much choice in not reading your screaming minds as breathing and hearing. It is simply another sense I take advantage of.”

Anna snorted. “Patricia seemed to manage fine.”

“Psion Trask prioritized the handicapping of her abilities,” Geist said, still turned away from them as he began tinkering with the Vanguard Gauntlet on the table. “She developed her psionics in a way where that was feasible. I did not, and therefore must live with it.”

“I do wonder,” Sierra crossed her arms as she looked around the area. “If you ever tried in the first place.”

“No, I did not,” Geist stated flatly. “Knowing what people are thinking has saved me countless wasted hours of inane small talk and questions. This is an advantage I do not see a need to willingly deprive myself of.”

Anna almost seemed to giggle. “Alright then. Keep paying attention.”

“Anyway, in regards to your oncoming inquiries,” Geist continued. “The reason I am interested in this is because the Sectoids created technology capable of tapping into psionic power using psions as conduits. They have applied it to blades and shields. I wish to explore the possibility of applying it into other areas. Once I have sufficient data to take to Dr. Vahlen, she can hopefully begin work.” He gestured around. “I am not an engineer, thus I requested assistants from Shen who also agreed at the need for this to be explored. This is done with his approval, so you are aware.”

There were times when she really didn’t know what to think about Geist. As a person he was…perhaps not _bad_ , but way too undiplomatic and combative. She supposed he was honest, which was admittedly better than some people. But he had no sense of tact or consideration for others. He was no Patricia, but he clearly never wanted to be.

It was probably her imagination, but she could swear he nodded. Eavesdropping jerk.

But he _was_ frustratingly smart and driven. Despite his growing, and rather infamous reputation, everyone did have to admit he knew what he was doing. He was not someone who took no for an answer and only a few really seemed to be able to dare challenge him. Of course, all of those were of a higher rank, so it made sense.

“Archangel Pavlova,” Geist said slowly, turning around. “Please stop doing that.”

Anna just smiled, while Geist stared at her. “Your current line of thought. Think about something else if you must.”

“Why?” Anna asked brightly. “There something you don’t like about it?”

“It is a juvenile attempt to break my concentration,” Geist narrowed his eyes. “Which definitely does not work, and is the equivalent of a mosquito buzzing which is too inconsequential to deal with.”

“Did you always talk like this?” Sierra had a good idea of what Anna was doing, and it was hilarious. “I’m surprised anyone takes you seriously.”

Geist opened his mouth, before closing it. A few moments later, and he gave a dismissive wave. “Your assistance is appreciated, Archangels, I have now seemed to learn how to ignore _very specific_ minds in the immediate vicinity. Your…annoyances will not bother me. Stand there if you wish to gawk.” With that he turned around and continued working.

Sierra raised a hand and Anna reciprocated the high-five. “Amazing,” she commented as they walked away. “You managed to teach _Geist_ something. So what was it?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Anna smirked. “Just him in a compromising position with his mother. I don’t think he found it amusing.”

Sierra snorted. “Tell everyone we’ve found the solution to Geist mind-reading anyone he wants.”

“Oh, believe me,” Anna gave a sinister smile. “I’m definitely going to be sharing this little technique.”

***

_Research Labs, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/19/2016 – 10:22 A.M._

Today was the day when Vahlen and Shen were going to unveil some of their larger breakthroughs. The Commander had of course been briefed on the projects they were working on, and in particular for Vahlen, the results of Project Innsmouth were ready to be unveiled, with significant advancements in the Operated MELD applications, which had been bundled into Project Achilles some time ago.

Achilles was something both Shen and Vahlen had been working on; which had started as research into injecting MELD nanites directly into an individual, and had apparently turned into something different; combining multiple projects into one. In any case, he was quite eager to see what both of them had for him.

The labs were as clean and sterile as ever, and even more packed since Vahlen had over the past months greatly expanded her teams to include the finest geneticists, and biologists, both terrestrial and marine. With the transition to her new base, there was additional traffic, though few in-progress projects were being touched.

The scientists quickly moved out of the way, and it didn’t take him long to find Vahlen who was standing within a sealed room in front of a clean table devoid of everything except a stack of cubes, a skull-cap thing he hadn’t seen before, and two tablets. She was likely starting out with the smaller things, since Innsmouth was housed in the Genetic Labs.

The sealed room hissed as he opened, and Vahlen turned with a smile at his arrival. “I’ve been looking forward to this day for some time, Commander. I’m glad to say that all progress has been exceptional, and the aliens have also assisted in providing experience with much of what we’ve struggled over for some time. Months of research has been saved as a result.”

“Excellent,” he nodded to the table. “So what do we have?”

“Shen will be giving you a demonstration of the plasma weapons later,” Vahlen picked up on of the tablets. “And that made me realize that we will currently have no weapons research. So I first want to suggest two avenues to pursue. The second tablet is for you.” He obliged and picked up the free tablet, on it showed a…peculiar weapon. It looked bulky, boxy, and had a multitude of exposed wires and tubes.

“Several of the research teams, including myself, believe we should look to more distinct forms of weaponry,” Vahlen continued. “This was conceptualized as one of the first weapons to do this. It is currently classified as the High Output Microwave Emitter Rifle, and specifically designed to kill armored aliens like the Battlemaster, as it has the potential to bypass armor and fry electronics.”

“Microwaves,” the Commander mused. “I assume this is slightly more powerful than what we use to cook our food?”

“If we so desire,” Vahlen chuckled. “But if you want to see the damage microwaves can cause, go to the next screen.” The Commander did, and was faced with a host of unpleasant and gory images. “Skin degradation, blisters, and ultimately necrosis,” Vahlen continued. “An extremely painful way to die, which cannot be blocked without sealed armor or psionics.”

“Interesting,” the Commander flipped to the next screen, showing a similar weapon with a different description. “Gamma rays as well?”

“That is what we’re unsure on,” Vahlen said. “A Gamma equivalent of this weapon would be far deadlier, and turn any target into an irradiated hazard regardless of armor. However, there is a high potential for friendly fire, both to nearby soldiers and the user itself. But it could still be highly useful against Ethereals. But Gamma research is not well-developed, and we wouldn’t know without devoting resources towards it.”

The Commander nodded, thinking. “Work on developing the Microwave variant, and you have my authorization to begin Gamma research. I believe that weapon could be more suited to our MECs than ordinary soldiers.”

“Wonderful,” Vahlen gestured for him to continue. “Now, the other path of research is harnessing psionic power into more…specific uses. The Sectoids proved they can do this, and Geist has helpfully completed some initial data-gathering which would allow us to get a concrete start.”

“How would this work, exactly?” He asked. “I assume non-psions wouldn’t be able to use it?”

“Highly unlikely,” Vahlen confirmed. “The truth is we don’t know _what_ the limits for this are. Perhaps psionic energy could be stored for later use, or it can be specifically directed to do certain things. Telekinesis, telepathy, all outside the traditional specialization or training. Our psions could be more powerful than they already are.”

“Could it protect them telepathically?”

“Possibly. Again, we’re not sure of the limits of this line of research. But we can’t afford to pass it up.”

“Do it,” he said, setting the tablet down. “If you need people, I’ll get in contact with the PRIEST Division. Their research division is growing, and I’m sure some of them would love to work for XCOM.”

She brushed her hair back. “You know, I have the feeling that I could just start all of these and you likely wouldn’t care.”

He smiled back. “Oh, I would care. I want to know what’s going on, even if I usually approve your projects. You have a good sense of what should be prioritized, but that doesn’t mean you get out of asking first.”

“Fair point, Commander.”

As she set the tablet down and began moving towards the other device, he asked. “What is the status of the Manchurian Project?”

“Not ready to be shown, but very close,” she answered. “I am hoping it will be within the next couple of weeks. We’ve lost some time in preparing everything for today. Such as this.” She picked up the device so he could get a closer look. It looked like it should go over the head, but was very small, with an extremely delicate layer of wires and alloy mesh.

“And what is this?”

“This,” Vahlen said proudly. “Is the most important aspect of Project Achilles. Both Shen and I worked on this, and in more…simple terms, it is a Neural Regulator.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“Shen originally conceptualized it as a way to protect against telepathy,” Vahlen began. “You are aware that the brain has two hemispheres, which can be separated and still function on their own. Generally this results is adverse side effects, specifically in communication. This device would supplement the existing connection of the Corpus Callosum with an automated alternative – one which could detect if there is psionic tampering.”

The Commander frowned. “Is that possible?”

“Detecting psionics? Yes,” Vahlen gently set down the device. “The brain noticeably changes if under the influence of psionics. This has been documented multiple times. It is a matter of taking this data and putting it in something like this. If the brain emits these signals, the individual is compromised and the Neural Regulator will follow established contingencies.”

“It sounds good,” the Commander began slowly. “But it seems to be a less elegant version of the Restraints.”

“There are advantages as well,” Vahlen pointed out. “Future iterations could likely augment cognitive abilities, memory storage, and analysis. And while the Restraints simply stop compromised individuals, this would disrupt psions by turning anything they could learn into gibberish. But I initially agreed…until I proposed we combine both the Neural Regulator with Project Achilles and the development of Operated MELD.”

She picked up her tablet again, and began tapping. “The Neural Regulator does not just serve as a protection against telepathy, it also can control MELD Cubes slaved to it. Watch.” The cubes on the table suddenly dissipated and reformed into a model soldier. Then fell apart again and formed into a small knife.

“And this would be controlled by the user on their own,” Vahlen said proudly. “No remote required. Much like psionics, it would take some getting used to. As for the specific enhancements brought about by Project Achilles, those would also be able to be controlled.”

“And have the goals of Achilles changed?” He asked.

“No,” she walked over with the tablet in hand which showed the outline of a Human with the proposed changes. “MELD fortified skeletal structure; augmented organs for additional redundancy and healing. Skin fully replaced with MELD overlays. Eyes overhauled with MELD enhancement, with bloodstream injections to kill any foreign bodies and toxins. This also applies to the nostrils and lungs. An interesting side effect is that this will, in theory, allow full control over cosmetic appearance. Skin, eye, and hair color can all be modified by the individual in question.”

She lowered the tablet. “A massive investment, I am aware, but with the additions of the Neural Regulator and Operated MELD, this is perhaps as close to an invincible soldier as we can get. Very little would be able to kill one, and if they cannot be telepathically dominated, with control of swarms of nanites…I am sure you can imagine the possibilities.”

“Indeed.” Vahlen was right. It was going to be a _massive_ cost per soldier. These Neural Regulators would need to be custom-fitted to the individual, time would be needed for them to adapt, and the amount of MELD pumped into them would be ludicrous. However, MELD they could replace, and it was worth doing it right than fast.

This would likely only be for a few soldiers. The amount of changes Vahlen was proposing was near-inhuman. Zhang was going to _love_ the appearance changing capabilities, however. Maybe they would find their means of imitating the aliens that way. “And is this ready to use?”

“We need to install on a few test subjects first,” Vahlen admitted. “However, once those tests are completed, both of us are confident it is ready for use.”

“Then finish this up,” the Commander said. “I’ll put together a list of candidates and volunteers for the procedure. I suspect we’ll be able to find a few.”

“I would not be surprised,” Vahlen then motioned him to follow her. “Now this way, there is one last thing I need to show you, which I know you have been curious about.” He followed her as she led him to the genetic labs, which were just as busy as the regular research labs. Stepping into them, he was mildly surprised to see Aegis standing in front of a massive aquarium tank.

“Commander,” Aegis turned in greeting. “I presume she is here to show you her… _specimen_.”

“Yes, Aegis, I am,” Vahlen looked into the aquarium tank, which was filled with vegetation, some rock formations, and sand. “It’s hiding, isn’t it?”

Aegis’s voice was almost a sigh. “It is.”

The Commander peered into the tank. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“Just watch,” Vahlen said, as she tapped on an interface on the tank. “You’ll like it.”

Some fish were inserted into the tank, and the Commander waited a few moments before he saw it. He blinked. “The fuck is that?”

If he didn’t know better, it looked like an octopus. An octopus which had just previously been laying on the tank floor, the _exact_ same color as the sand. But it shot through the water, revealing itself to be at _least_ fifteen feet wide. The skin was pure black, and instead of eight tentacles, it had twelve. He swore that the thing was eyeless, until he saw little black orbs. Not two, but _eight_ distributed around the body.

It was if someone had taken an octopus, and turned it into a Lovecraftian nightmare.

No, that was _exactly_ what Vahlen had done.

“Moira,” he said slowly. “What exactly is this?”

“This, Commander,” Vahlen said with a happy smile. “Is what he have been calling a Shoggoth.”

“A truly distasteful creature.” Aegis commented. “It is well named. As unnatural as the stories it is named for.”

“Yes…” the Commander watched the Shoggoth quickly eat the fish, before floating towards them, extending a few tentacles to touch the glass. “Vahlen, just what inspired this idea?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Vahlen placed a hand on the glass, and the Shoggoth placed another tentacle on the opposite side. “You’re seeing one reason now. Octopi are one of the most intelligent creatures on the planet. They are playful, inquisitive, and clever. They also have the capability to squeeze into impossibly tight spaces, can’t be killed easily, have natural regeneration, and some find their appearance unsettling.”

The Commander saw the arms retained the expected suckers, which had a white sheen to them. Contrasted with the black skin, it was slightly disturbing. “However,” Vahlen said. “What made this a project worth pursuing is that Octopi are immune to mind control.”

His head snapped to hers. “Are you certain?”

“Unfortunately, she is telling the truth,” Aegis said. “Touching the mind of such a creature is…unsettling.”

“The reason for this is that Octopi don’t have a brain like we do,” Vahlen explained. “Their intelligence is, for lack of a better word, distributed. Image your brain being in your arms or legs instead of just your head. That is how it works for Octopi. Each arm is essentially a brain unto itself, and this comes together to form an intelligence which can’t be controlled by telepathy. The perfect psionic hunters.”

“Well then,” the Commander was definitely impressed. Slightly terrified, but impressed. “So I assume you…improved upon it?”

“Oh, certainly,” she said brightly, motioning at the Shoggoth which was now resting and camouflaging itself on the rock formation. “I started with the Giant Pacific Octopus, and worked from there. I increased the arms from eight to twelve, changed the skin color, in addition to giving it the iron skin modification.”

“A questionable addition,” Aegis said.

“Reduced the eye size, and added additional eyes at strategic points on the body,” Vahlen said, pointing to illustrate her point. “I wanted to emphasize their ability to squeeze into small places, and for us to be able to drop this on an alien base and let it kill everything inside. The beak itself has also been reduced in size.”

“So how does this thing operate on land?” The Commander asked. “It’s still an aquatic animal.”

“That was tricky,” Vahlen admitted. “But the solution we decided upon was a modification of the gills, which can now store water within them and act as…oxygenators, as they would be able to run air through the water to oxygenate it as they breathed on land. Worst case scenario, we also developed a cybernetic implant which performs largely the same thing. But so far it has proven unnecessary.”

“Right,” he nodded. “So…how does it fight? Can it be trained?”

Vahlen motioned for them to follow as she led them into the Containment cells. “It will be easier to show you. Shoggoths treat threats to them as almost a kind of game. They like toying with their prey, and taking them apart slowly before eating them.”

“Charming creatures,” Aegis muttered. “Isomnum would be proud.”

“Quiet, Aegis,” Vahlen sniffed. “Just because it’s not something you can dominate or kill easily does not mean it can’t appreciate getting to know others. Shoggoths have actually really taken to Humans, and seem to like us. Of course I naturally made them inclined to treat us as friendly, but you could almost imagine them as a…guard dog of sorts. A very dangerous pet.”

The Commander snorted. “Funny. You have a demonstration?”

“Yes,” they stopped in front of a cell which had a very angry-looking man inside it, and with him was an array of gauss and laser weapons, with some grenades for good measure. The man was quickly putting on the provided Aegis armor, and shooting them suspicious glances. “I have placed one of the subjects in here, with the best of our weapons and armor. The Shoggoth will be lured here and we shall see who is victorious.”

The Commander had a feeling that the individual within was not going to survive. He would almost feel bad, if the man hadn’t been convicted for rape and a double homicide. How fitting that he would die at the…tentacles of a monster. “You’re an idiot!” The man yelled in triumph as he placed the helmet on and grabbed the gauss rifle. “You really think you can arm me and I won’t get out?”

“Does he know you’re a Telepath?” The Commander asked wryly.

She frowned. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Please put these on,” she handed them some night-vision goggles. “For the true effect,” she added, giving a thin smile as a compartment opened above. The entire room was plunged into darkness as water sloshed to the tile floors. The man immediately spun to the sound of the noise and opened fire.

“Cute, bitch!” He yelled, firing wildly. “But this armor can see in the dark!”

“And there it goes,” Vahlen said, and the monstrous form of the Shoggoth plunged to the ground, leading to the man emitting an extremely high-pitched shriek as he let loose a volley of fire.

With ferocious swiftness, the Shoggoth lashed out two of its tentacles, even as the rounds bounced off its iron skin, and those wrapped around his legs and slammed him to the ground. The Shoggoth pulled the screaming man closer towards it as more tentacles wrapped around the limbs.

“Shoggoth arms are exceptionally strong,” Vahlen explained as the creature tightened its grip over the hysterical man. “Not especially useful against armor, but that doesn’t really matter.” She pointed as the Shoggoth moved its arms and broke the legs of the man. “Ah, yes. One thing they like to do is break the limbs of the victim. Generally they’ll also try and get them out of the armor, but this isn’t always successful. They have a fascination with taking things apart…like the head.”

As she was speaking the creature managed to pull the helmet off the man, and causally tossed it to the side as it began probing the face of the petrified man. “I thought you said they liked Humans,” the Commander said. “Unless you meant as food?”

“No,” Vahlen shook her head. “I doused this man with alien pheromones. And this Shoggoth won’t eat him. They only eat alien corpses and other non-Human life. I’m fairly sure it knows this is training. I modified them so they would be smart.”

“Yes,” the Commander winced as the Shoggoth crushed the man’s head like a melon and then mostly seemed to lose interest. “It’s good to know they’re smart.”

Vahlen turned the lights back on, and the Commander saw the massive animal move towards the wall opposite where it had come in, which was grated and with no obvious way in. On the other side was a pail of what he assumed was food. “See,” Vahlen pointed proudly. “They know what to do. He’ll be able to get through the spaces for the food at the end. This way.”

“Wait,” the Commander hesitated as she opened the adjacent door. “Inside?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly safe,” Vahlen said, waving him inside. “And the Shoggoths should get used to you.”

“You’re very lucky I trust you this much,” he said, thinking on the strange situations he was in sometimes. He was actually going to be in the same room with a massive octopus from hell. Which was thankfully ‘smart’. The Shoggoth was already halfway through the wall; it really was amazing the tight spaces they could fit through. The gaps were no bigger than one inch width and two inch height.

Out of curiosity, he glanced down at the pail and should have been shocked, but just sighed. “Vahlen, why are there _hands_ in the pail?”

“Oh, those,” Vahlen was putting on gloves as she took the pail from him. “Grown Ethereal parts. Easy with Sectoid cloning tubes, and works for all species. We’ve been feeding them various alien parts to get them used to the taste. They quite like it.”

The Shoggoth finally squeezed all the way through, and lumbered towards them, extending a massive tentacle towards him. Grimacing, he reached out his hand, and the tentacle slightly touched it with a sucker, before withdrawing as Vahlen tossed it some Ethereal hands. “Do they have names?”

“Informally,” Vahlen said. “So far it’s usually been some alteration of ‘Cthulhu’ or another eldritch abomination. They’ll be given names eventually. But we only have three so far, and it will take time to grow more.”

Vahlen soon finished up, as the Shoggoth began eating in more earnest. “They secrete a toxin that breaks down the flesh,” Vahlen explained as it ate. “Since the beak is small, it hinders its eating time. Sucking up the dissolved nutrients is more efficient.”

“How will it get back in the tank?” The Commander asked.

“Oh, it’ll just squeeze back through and climb up the wall to the tank,” Vahlen easily explained, pointing for reference, as she peeled off her gloves. “They know the way back.”

“Well then,” he finally said. “I think you would give Revelean a run for his money with this. I don’t know if this should be… _impressive_ , but it definitely seems like it to me.” He smirked. “I really wouldn’t want to have that thing chasing after me. I don’t think I could kill it.”

Vahlen laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, you couldn’t kill it with telekinesis. Rather difficult in a boneless creature.”

“Yep,” he said. “The perfect psion predator. Well done.”

***

_XCOM Intelligence Control, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/17/2016 – 10:29 A.M._

Abby looked up after reading the project proposal which Zhang had provided to her. “Shen and Vahlen have been busy. Is all of this…complete?”

“Project Achilles is nearly complete,” Zhang answered. “As are the Manchurian Restraints.”

“Right,” Abby set the tablet down. “Are these mandatory upgrades?”

“Achilles is optional,” Zhang said inclining his head, as he kept his voice neutral. “That level of conversion is voluntary. The advantages provided are immense, especially in terms of infiltration. Shen assures me that we should be able to mimic Vitakarians with little issue.” He pursed his lips. “With that said, not every agent needs to be polymorphic. The Manchurian Restraints will be mandatory. For the first time in history we will have a completely loyal Intelligence corps. That cannot be ignored.”

She could see the appeal of that, although she couldn’t say she was thrilled with the idea of undergoing some kind of mental 1984-ish mental conditioning. However, while she wasn’t sure she trusted Zhang as a person, she did trust him to only do what was necessary. “I see.”

“I bring this up to make you aware of what is coming,” Zhang walked around the holotable and handed her another tablet. “But the other reason was to prepare you for your next assignment, and to get your opinion on a certain matter.” She looked down at the tablet and began reading. “There have been issues in South America,” Zhang continued. “We suspect alien activity, possibly Ethereal-backed. We’ll be sending you to assist ADVENT in uncovering these Reapers.”

“A solo mission or will I have assistance?” She asked, glancing up.

“You are first to assess if there _is_ alien activity,” Zhang clarified. “If there is, you’ll receive psionic backup. These Reapers appear to be extremely skilled, quiet, and deadly. Not many aliens, let alone Humans, can completely rout a Peacekeeper base.”

She frowned, already noticing some interesting notes. “All attacks attributed to them have been exclusively against ADVENT. Not even one civilian casualty. There never seem to be more than one or two operatives as well.”

“Which suggests the leader is local,” Zhang agreed with an impressed nod. “And given that these methods of operation haven’t changed, it implies that _if_ they are being alien-backed, they are not giving the orders.”

“Aliens haven’t had an issue with civilian targets before,” Abby frowned. “And they definitely don’t care about Human opinions.”

“That’s what doesn’t add up,” Zhang clasped his hands behind his head. “There are several possible explanations. The first is that the Battlemaster is in charge, and civilian targets by the aliens have dropped significantly. The second is that there are no aliens backing them, but they _do_ have a psion somehow. Either explanation is dangerous.”

“They likely have contacts in the population,” Abby said. “Any leads?”

“Unfortunately not,” Zhang answered, activating the holotable showing South America. “We suspect they are mainly operating out of Argentina, not anywhere in ADVENT-controlled territory. The Argentinian government has, of course, denied knowing anything about it and has stated their willingness to hunt them down. We have seen few results one way or another.”

“Would Argentina really help them?” Abby questioned. “That seems risky.”

“It is,” Zhang confirmed grimly. “Which is why I’m not convinced they’re involved. ADVENT does not want to march any government official in front of a psion without some kind of evidence beyond our suspicions of where they operate, but it would be the quickest way to determine the situation.”

“But it’s diplomatically questionable,” Abby finished. “Not good PR without hard evidence.”

“Our best opportunity is to capture one of the operatives,” Zhang said. “And that is the first phase of your operation. Work with ADVENT to capture one of the Reapers. Depending on what you learn, you’ll get more support. Even if there _aren’t_ aliens behind them, they are a threat which needs to be stamped out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Abby said. “When do I leave?”

“When the Restraints are complete,” Zhang said. “There is almost certainly a psion working with them, and I do not want you compromised.”

“Understood,” she flipped to the next slide on the tablet. “What’s this?”

“A list of names ADVENT has been providing as useful defectors,” Zhang explained. “Until they fully set up the AEGIS Division, we’re making use of the aliens which pass their tests. I found an interesting name on it. Recognize this one?”

Abby looked to where he pointed. “Runi’cairu’intha?” She looked up, thinking. “Wait. Isn’t that Nartha’s sister?”

“It appears so,” Zhang gave a thin smile. “A family of traitors, it seems. I’ve requested she be transferred here. But there is the question about what to do about the growing number of aliens at the base. Paperclip base will be fine for housing them, but there are measures which need to be taken to ensure our own security. How should this be solved?”

Abby took a few moments to think. Every alien being brought in was a security risk, regardless of their intentions. There was something of a line between encouraging defection, and allowing them to be uncontrolled. “Psionic screening should determine if they are allowed in to begin with,” she said slowly. “Trackers and cranial bombs to provide constant monitoring, and undergoing the Manchurian Restraints when complete. That should reduce the security risk significantly.”

Zhang raised an eyebrow. “Extensive, but good to see that some aren’t ignorant of the risk letting aliens in entails. Good intentions mean little given how we know psionics can work, as well as mental programming. We would be foolish to assume the aliens haven’t developed something similar to the Manchurian Restraints, even if they don’t apply it to their Zararch agents.”

“If they’re really interested in helping,” Abby said. “Then they would realize the necessity of these measures.”

“Not necessarily true,” Zhang pointed out. “But within XCOM, absolutely. I believe I will bring this up with the Commander, who I feel is becoming a little too encouraged with this development. XCOM is a Human organization, not one with aliens as an integral part of it. They can be useful, but they should not be more than that.”

“Agreed.” Abby didn’t know what the politics of the Internal Council were right now, but she could at least agree that aliens shouldn’t be allowed free reign in XCOM, or access to anything important. Aegis was an exception in many respects, but that didn’t mean the rest of these defectors should be.

“I will need an answer regarding Project Achilles within several days,” Zhang said, turning away. “That is all. Refer to the collected intel to prepare for your mission in the meantime. Dismissed.”

***

_Engineering Bay, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/17/2016 – 12:01 A.M._

When the Commander saw the array of new weapons on the testing range, he smiled.

This was going to be a good day.

“Commander,” Shen greeted jovially. “I’m pleased you came so quickly. I believe you’ll be happy with what we’ve been developing recently.”

“I already like where this is going,” the Commander said, as they both walked over to the table. “Is this what I think it is?” The weapons on the table were clearly inspired by the alien plasma weapons, but with some obvious improvements. The colors were still black and silver, with some small green outlines, but the exposed barrels and components of the rifles were gone and sealed.

“Once we cracked Elerium, developing our own plasma weapons was only a matter of time,” Shen confirmed as the Commander grasped one of the rifles. It was lighter than a gauss rifle, but much heavier than a Pulse rifle. “The range is set for you to test them out.”

The Commander took a firing stance and raised the rifle towards the alien dummy, and fired. Several green bolts of plasma shot out and slammed into the dummy, easily obliterating the face, with the residue eating through the body itself. The recoil was less than he was anticipating, and so he continued firing as the rifle spat out bolts at a rapid pace.

After a few more seconds there wasn’t much left of the dummy, and he lowered the rifle. “I like it.” He turned to see Shen standing beside him, holding what looked closer to a plasma autorifle. He had an expectant look on his face.

“Given how much you seemed to like destroying that dummy, I figured you would want the most powerful non-MEC variant we developed.” The Commander happily obliged and firmly grasped the far heavier piece of equipment, having to wield it more like a cannon than rifle. “Try destroying that one.” Shen pointed to another dummy, this one armored in some kind of alloy protection.

The Commander grinned. “Gladly.” He pulled the trigger once the shot was lined up, and with a small whine the weapon spat out dozens of plasma bolts in quick succession. The alloy armor protecting the dummy lasted a few shots until the sheer hail of green bolts turned it into charred ruins. The Commander continued firing until the weapon stopped, and ejected some kind of plasma cell.

He let the barrel end set against the ground. “I think it works.”

Shen appraised the damage and gave a short nod. “I quite agree, Commander, thank you for testing it to be sure. I would not have known otherwise.”

The Commander smirked at the rare sarcasm from Shen, and moved to set the plasma…autorifle? Cannon? Whatever it was, he delicately set it down by the remainder of the weapons which included a pistol and sniper rifle. “It’ll be nice to be equals with the aliens in weaponry,” he said thoughtfully. “There is little we can do to improve. We can only look to the unconventional.”

“I believe Vahlen has shared her ideas on that front.” Shen motioned him to follow as he led them to another table in the workshop. “In the meantime, I haven’t ignored our other weapons. I have had a team developing specialized ammunition for our gauss weapons and in anticipation of ADVENT ETC weapons.”

He didn’t recognize the latter statement. “ETC weapons?”

“An initiative ADVENT is finalizing,” Shen explained. “Gauss weaponry is powerful, but there are some drawbacks, specifically the expense and low rate of fire. Electrothermal-Chemical weapons are envisioned to be a means of providing ADVENT with an EMP resistant weapon, and upgrading every single conventional firearm to be near the level of gauss effectiveness.” He paused. “It is an ambitious project, but one that isn’t relevant to XCOM. If you want, I can forward you the current status of it.”

“Do that,” the Commander said. That sounded like something he wanted to keep an eye on. “So what do you have here?”

Shen reached a table with several gauss slugs resting vertically on it. The first had red rings around the top and base, with ClF3 stamped along the side; the one next to it had green rings, with H2FSbF6 stamped along it. The one after it had yellow rings, and a fairly obvious radioactive symbol on the side, while the final one was orange, with the familiar outline of a MELD nanite stamped on the side.

“I want to note that none of these are armed, nor do I think it’s safe to test them here,” Shen explained as he picked up the red-ringed slug. “We’ve been generally conducting these in extremely contained areas, or in the desert. I also would advise not letting soldiers use these without training, because while we’ve attempted to mitigate user danger, we _cannot_ eliminate all the risk.”

“Well then,” the Commander motioned for him to continue. “Tell me.”

“This is, to put it mildly, an incendiary round,” Shen lifted the red-ringed slug again. “Within it is a very small amount of Chlorine Triflouride. Upon impact it will likely ignite and heavily damage the target. Useful against everything, but particularly against Elites and heavy infantry.”

He picked up the green-ringed slug. “This is the most delicate round, but it was necessary to contain what is within it. Fluoroantimonic acid is the most dangerous acid known to man, and it can only be contained in Teflon, which makes up a large portion of this slug. Extremely effective against vehicles and Ethereals.”

With that, he moved onto the radioactive slug. “This is intended to primarily be an anti-Ethereal weapon, but again, can work against others. This is radioactive, and would be used for contaminating Ethereals irreversibly. At the moment I don’t believe it’s safe for regular soldiers to handle, only MECs. But we have confirmed it does work.”

He picked up the last slug. “And this one contained a small amount of pre-programmed nanites that, upon impact, will begin eating all alien material for thirty seconds before self-destructing. Useful against…virtually anything.” He set it down. “I should note that all of these are difficult to produce, even for us, so they should be used sparingly.

“That,” the Commander said. “Is an excellent development. Exceptional work.”

“I’ll pass that along to the team,” Shen said, as they began walking deeper into the workshop. “The aliens are likely to develop new and dangerous tools. We need to be sure to keep pace. I intend on sharing this with ADVENT, since they would likely be able to produce far more than we could.”

“Good idea,” the Commander nodded, then raised an eyebrow once he saw what was up ahead. “Hello, what have we here?”

“The finest in modern protection,” Shen said proudly with a flourished motion of his arm. “The Titan armor.”

The suit of armor looked slightly similar to the Aegis armor, but was much bulkier. The suit itself was noticeably taller, with silver alloys weaving the entire suit together, while the hardened plates protected the vital areas. “Much like plasma weaponry,” Shen said as he appraised it. “Elerium allowed us to develop something like this. What can be considered to be the first true powered armor.”

“I’m going to put it on, if you don’t mind,” the Commander said. Shen gave a short laugh, and motioned for him to do it. Once Shen unlocked the armor, it took him close to fifteen minutes to put it all on. It wasn’t easy to put on unassisted, but it was certainly doable. Once on, he put on the helmet and he was connected to the suit.

His HUD had a blue box on the lower edge. LOCK ARMOR? YES/NO?

“Lock armor,” he stated. He physically heard the suit clicking together as it sealed him inside, and now he could walk forward. The HUD flashed up a new message. POWERED ASSISTANCE? YES/NO?

“Not yet,” he said, wanting to walk around with it unpowered first. A few minutes like that definitely confirmed that it was not anything close to agile, but he could still move around fairly quickly. Being gene-modded definitely made things easier, and he could easily run in it. Jumping wasn’t easy either, but it was doable.

The HUD was mostly bare, just showing his current vital signs and that he wasn’t connected to any other nearby soldiers. Interestingly, suit integrity was also displayed in the lower right hand corner. A “Commands” box was in the upper left. “Show commands,” he said.

The center of the HUD showed a list of one-word commands with short descriptions he found he could scroll through by blinking.

HARDEN: All MELD nanites harden on the suit providing increased protection. Note – Cannot use in conjunction with other orders. All other orders will contradict this one.

REPAIR: MELD nanites will attempt to repair noted suit damage. Note – This will consume nanites.

HEAL: MELD nanites will attempt to stabilize any sustained injuries of the user. Note – This will consume nanites and is not a substitute for medical care.

CONSUME: Orders all MELD nanites to depart the suit and kill all aliens within a ten foot radius – Note: User will not have access to nanites until this action is completed. It is advised this only be used in close encounters.

REPLENISH: Orders all MELD nanites to depart the suit and replicate through aliens and materials until they are at peak suit numbers. Note – User will not have access to nanites until this actions is completed, and the time required will depend on the current amount of nanites.

COLOR: Set the color or camo type of your armor. This will not change unless specifically ordered.

LOCK/UNLOCK – Locks or unlocks the suit for combat or unsuiting.

POWER ON/POWER OFF – Activates the elerium core of the suit, allowing greater mobility, speed and strength.”

The Commander looked back to Shen. “Good thinking, putting nanites in this. It certainly gives more…options.”

“It seemed a logical step,” Shen agreed. “While they don’t have the versatility of the proposed MELD Operators, there are certainly ways they can be helpful.”

The Commander took a few steps forward. “Power on.” The elerium core whirred to life and an image of a power cell appeared in the upper right corner, with a percentage sign next to it. He also noticed that the lower left corner had the outline of a nanite, with the same percentage sign. Likely showing the percentage of nanites left. He also saw a color block close beside it, which was silver. No need to change it yet.

“How long do the power cells last?” He asked.

“Full use will drain one in four hours,” Shen said. “However, Titan armor has two cells which automatically swap when one runs out. We unfortunately couldn’t fit a recharging module in it.”

Eight hours seemed like plenty of time to him, and with his now powered suit, he began moving again and was amazed how much easier it was to move. Spending some time just charging through the small obstacle course Shen had put together for testing, he found that not only was he as fast as out of armor, but the suit could make inhuman jumps, boasted higher strength, and offered unparalleled momentum.

It also helped that the suit was temperature controlled, and noticeably better than previous iterations. Once he felt he was finished testing the suit, he walked back to Shen. “Power off,” he said, as he saw Shen holding a plasma rifle. Bless the man, he was just about to suggest that be the next functional test.

He was learning how these went, it seemed.

Shen just looked resigned to shooting his Commander again. “I assume you wish to test its durability?”

“Yes, you may fire when ready.”

Shen motioned him to a small preset range by the obstacle course, likely for this situation. “I’ll start firing in ten seconds.”

The Commander counted down in his head, and about the third second he gave his command. “Harden.” The armor integrity indicator in the HUD suddenly had a transparent yellow overlay, just as Shen began firing. The Commander felt the bolts slam into his armor, and even looked down to see the residue trying to eat through the material.

Shen began targeting the legs and arms, a surprising show of confidence since he normally just fired a few times and was done. The HUD yellow overlay began turning to red, and the Commander saw the MELD percentage drop to the 25% mark.

“End harden,” he said, and then let the armor itself take a beating from the green bolts. The impacts forced him to take a few steps back, and the indicator began flashing orange on the chest piece. “Repair.” He raised a hand, indicating for Shen to stop, and the man immediately obliged, as the nanites began repairing the suit damage.

By the end his MELD percentage was 12%. “Replenish,” he ordered, and he saw what looked like dust start floating off him, and then landing on whatever was nearby, which were cardboard boxes, old electrical parts, and targets. He assumed none of that was valuable to Shen. It took close to ten minutes, and he watched in fascination as the objects around him seemed to crumble into nothing, then finally the dust flew right back onto him as if nothing had happened. The MELD indicator showed it as 100%.

“I think,” the Commander said as he approached Shen. “You might have outdone yourself here.”

“I’m glad you think so, Commander,” Shen did look rather pleased. “Whatever it takes to protect our soldiers.”

“They’ll definitely appreciate this,” the Commander said. “I don’t suppose you have anything else to show me?”

“Actually, yes,” Shen motioned to the Cybernetics Lab. “Right this way.”

***

_Cybernetics Lab, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/17/2016 – 1:32 P.M._

Both of them stood in front of a Gateway mounted on a platform with three different targets in front of it. “One application of Gateways we haven’t seen the aliens use is that of a weapon,” Shen said as several operators were performing checks on the gateway. “Aside from transportation, we figured that they could also operate as a delivery mechanism for weapons which normally couldn’t be mounted.”

“All set!” One of the operators called.

“So using it for shooting lasers through?” The Commander asked. “No need for a power source since it’s supplied at the site of the connecting Gateway?”

“Or missiles, or anything else,” Shen added. “This makes early missile detection nearly impossible, as well as their nuclear detection. We could launch nukes or missiles from a remote island in the Pacific which could be delivered across the world with no prior warning.”

“Gateway on!” Another operator yelled as the Gateway initialized. “Synching!”

“The connected Gateway is outside the Praesidium,” Shen said as the Gateway aimed at the first target. “Different weapons will be fired through it to demonstrate the versatility of it.”

A massive laser suddenly shot out from the Gateway and slammed into the target, vaporizing it almost instantly. The laser immediately shut off as the platform rotated to the next target. A few seconds later a small rocket shot through it and exploded into the second target. Another rotation lined it up in front of the third, and this time a stream of plasma bolts turned the final target into cinders.

“Test successful!” Came the call. “Desynching.”

“Very useful,” the Commander said, nodding as the teams worked on shutting it down. “The only issue I’m seeing is the size. If it could be miniaturized…”

“That’s the next step,” Shen rubbed his forehead. “But Sovereign Tech is unsurprisingly hard to change. We’re not sure of the clear path to take, and so far our attempts have not gone well. I’m beginning to see why the Collective hasn’t explored this, because they had to have thought of it.” He shook his head. “The good news though is that ADVENT has successfully established at least one Gateway in every major military base, and we can sync to all of them. Progress has been made there, at least.”

“Excellent.” Good. Instant reinforcements if needed, exactly what he wanted. “Keep working on trying to miniaturize this, and we have a weapon even the Collective can’t really match.”

“In the meantime,” Shen said, walking over to where the MECs were stored. “We have finished the Valkyrie-class MEC, and designed a…better weapon for the Shinobi-class.” It did not take the Commander long to see either of what he was saying.

The Valkyrie was almost exactly what he imagined it would be. Extremely aerodynamic, plenty of fins, wings, and mounted engines on the shoulders, with boosters on the ankles, legs, and arms. This one was colored pitch black with blue highlights, and stood close to the size of a Shinobi, about twelve feet.

“The Valkyrie,” Shen presented proudly as the MEC walked towards them. “Not really the best place to fly, but I assure you that this is far more powerful than the Archangels. Increased durability, nanite repair, flamethrowers and chemical dispensers, micro-missile launchers, and flechette launchers, and cables to anchor itself to enemy aircraft. Anything air-to-ground was considered, and most implemented.”

The Commander rubbed his chin. “I don’t suppose it can hold a sword?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Shen chuckled, amused. “To answer your question, it can, though that isn’t what it’s designed for. With that said, the Shinobi has a new weapon.” He pointed and the Commander saw what looked like a cross between a poleaxe, spear, and hammer. It was sized for a MEC, so the proportions seemed large to him, but it had a massive axehead, with the point extending into a sharp point, and opposite the axehead was studded block clearly supposed to be a blunter alternative.

“I swear I’ve seen that before,” the Commander muttered.

“Quite possibly,” Shen agreed. “That is a Mordaxt, or alternatively, the _murder axe_. It offers a much more versatile range of actions compared to the standard blade. Now the Shinobi can cause damage to any enemy unit by adapting its style to the weaknesses.” He pointed at the handle. “We did make some changes. The weapon length was reduced to be wielded as a one-handed weapon with the shield, but it can be extended to two handed if such an approach should be taken.”

He pointed at the sections. “The entire weapon has the same MELD reinforcement as the Templar maces or other blunt weapons, though more…advanced. Each main part; the point, hammer, and axe; has configurable attacks, such as the electrical and friction-based attacks of bladed Templar weapons. In this way it allows for more configurability based on opponents.”

That did seem like a useful weapon. “I suppose you’ve made a standard version for our Templars?”

“Of course,” Shen confirmed. “Only a couple, but they will serve any soldier well who wishes to use them.”

The Commander looked in satisfaction on the massive MEC and the new tool of war Shen had helped create. The aliens were definitely going to be occupied for some time more. “Excellent work here today, Shen. Your team is to be commended for the work done. A lot of people will owe their lives to your work.”

“I’ll pass it along, Commander,” Shen nodded thankfully. “It’s…strange. I feel like at some point we should be feeling that the end is coming. But there only seem to be more opportunities and possibilities opening up, not fewer.”

“There are no roadblocks here,” the Commander said firmly. “There is only advancement. Perhaps one day we will discover all there is to know…but that is not coming for a long, long time.”

“And until that point,” Shen said. “We’ll keep pushing the possible.” He pursed his lips. “While I certainly don’t agree with you on everything, I can’t deny that Humanity has made more progress in this war than in the past fifty years. If only we could study what we have in peace.”

“One day we will, Shen,” the Commander told him, echoing the sentiment. “One day we will.”

***

_Barracks, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/25/2016 – 11:12 A.M._

Christmas, the largest holiday of the year, at least if you were American.

Oliver certainly appreciated the Commander giving everyone the day off and the celebration in the Barracks with everyone enjoying a few hours of levity. With that said, he didn’t particularly care about the holiday itself. At least in the Netherlands their actual gift-giving celebration was a few weeks back, and he wasn’t exactly religious to begin with.

Still, the atmosphere and comradery was nice to see.

It was also somewhat amusing to see the aliens try and mingle, even if they really didn’t know what was going on. Oliver suspected that someone had told them it was a ‘holiday’, and they probably didn’t really want to ask further either out of embarrassment or because they didn’t care. They were certainly taking part in the food and drinks, though, at least the ones they could eat.

They were staying far away from any chocolate though, which had resulted in some teasing.

“This is an interesting gathering,” an alien said, walking up beside him with a cup of water in his hand. “You do not participate in it?”

“Parties? Nah,” Oliver snorted. “Not my thing, too old to really enjoy them. Nice for everyone else though.” He looked towards the alien in question a bit more, who was unsurprisingly a Vitakarian who he didn’t recognize. He was tall, darker grey skin than he remembered, and looked more muscular than the scientists. Probably a defector who used to be a soldier.

“Ah, I see,” the alien took a sip of water. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“As long as you tell me who you are,” Oliver answered, turning more fully to the alien. “One of the defectors?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I…was Runi’larias’intha. You would call me Larias.”

“Well, welcome to XCOM if someone hasn’t said it already,” Oliver said. “Intha, huh. You know, we apparently had a Zararch defector from the same area.”

Larias narrowed his eyes. “A Zararch agent? Really? I didn’t think they _could_ defect.”

“Well, that all happened before I came,” Oliver clarified as he went to grab a soda, with the alien following behind him. “But I don’t think the Commander would lie about that. And telepathy makes figuring out if they’re genuine fairly easy.”

“Interesting,” Larias took a sip of his water. “There were several soldiers who had siblings in the Zararch. I imagine the Zararch is not pleased with us.”

“What a shock,” Oliver snorted, deadpan. “I can’t imagine why they would feel that way.”

“So, about my question,’ Larias said as they sat down at one of the tables. “I know this is a Human holiday, but what is the point of this ‘Christmas’?”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, amused as he took a sip of his drink. “Do you not know how to use the Internet?”

“I am still learning,” Larias admitted, looking down. “And that has not necessarily been my priority the past couple weeks.”

“Sorry,” Oliver apologized. Oh boy, how to possibly sum up Christmas. “Alright, well, the point of Christmas sort of depends on who you ask. To some people it’s a celebration of friends and family where they give each other gifts, and to others it’s an important religious holiday.”

Larias blinked once. “I would not have guessed it is a religious holiday. Or treated as such.”

“Eh, even religious people follow the gift giving tradition,” Oliver said. “You’d probably see it more if you visited any American city. Now that I think about it, I wonder if the parades and events are still happening despite the invasion.”

“Interesting,” Larias said. “But why give gifts at all?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know,” Oliver admitted. “But we’ve been doing it for a long time, and it’s likely whatever original meaning there was is gone. Still, I enjoyed this time of the year.” He looked at Larias thoughtfully. “What about your species? You have to have holidays, right?”

“Oh, certainly,” the blue eyes of the Vitakarian seemed to brighten. “Each race has a multitude of their own, and there are a number which are universally recognized. The Celebration of Unification is the day when the Aui’Vitakar was formed, which fully unified our species. It is one of the few days when there are actual planned celebrations.”

“Sounds nice,” Oliver nodded. “Hopefully we’ll have a point where we can celebrate something similar.”

“Hopefully you do not emulate some of our other holidays,” Larias said with some resignation. “The next are the Days of the Plague. These are six days in sequence, where we remember the victims of the Plague that almost killed us. There are six days, one per species. There are subdued city events where people can visit the memorials, speak to the last few witnesses, and learn of the heroes and victims of the Plague. Each night recognizes a different race, and the respective race wears black clothing for the day.”

While it was clearly a sad event, that to Oliver sounded extremely interesting, if somewhat morbid. It was good that the Vitakara remembered the dead and honored them as they could. A shame the majority were allied with the Ethereals, because based on his interactions with them, he was sure both species could have been allies.

“It’s good you remember that,” he said. “Even if it’s painful. We do have similar days of remembrance, even if they aren’t for something quite that deadly.”

“There is a happy end to this,” Larias said. “The seventh day is the Celebration of the Arrival. This was when the Ethereals arrived and saved us. That is another day of celebration and communion with family and friends. We all wear gold and white that day; a bright ending to a somber week.”

Oliver sipped his drink. While he didn’t exactly like the idea of any celebration to the Ethereals, he did have to admit he completely understood why there was one. If Humanity had been dying and they were saved by an alien species, they would definitely have a holiday in their honor. In some ways, that event it reminded him of Easter, crossed with a trip through a Holocaust museum.

“That sounds nice,” he said. “Much as I dislike the Ethereals, they did save your species.”

 _Likely because you were useful pawns_ , he thought to himself, though kept that particular thought to himself. He doubted there was another reason for their actions.

“Not all of the Elders are bad,” Larias said. “Elder Aegis proves this, as did Elders Sana’Ligna and the Battlemaster.”

Oliver gave him an incredulous look as he took another sip. “The Battlemaster is trying to kill us.”

“As you are trying to kill him,” Larias pointed out. “Do you consider yourselves evil or wrong? One can be respected and honorable while being on the wrong side.”

“The Battlemaster ordered an attack on Washington D.C.” Oliver reminded him. “And has not exactly been forthcoming about the state of the millions of Humans in captivity. He’s not as…bad…as some others, but I’d hardly call him someone I’d respect.”

“I suppose you have reasons to feel that way,” Larias sighed. “I do not blame you, but the Battlemaster was one Ethereal who I have personally seen and spoken to. He has respect for his soldiers, and is one who I cannot help but admire, even now.”

Oliver was aware of the morale boost that occurred when commanders walked among the rank and file. For the Vitakarians to have a deified Elder do the same to them…he supposed it made sense, even if it blinded them to certain realities about their masters. Well, maybe they would realize that one day.

But for now, he’d just let everyone enjoy the day and save the arguments for another time.

***

_Barracks, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/25/2016 – 12:01 P.M._

“Wow, I actually didn’t expect to get something,” Sierra looked at the neatly wrapped gift before her, a small box which she appraised. It looked very much like the stereotypical Christmas present, with a red bow and everything.

“Hey, it’s Christmas,” Ted said happily as he took a seat beside her and Anna. “And I wasn’t just going to not get my squadmates something, limited as my options were.”

“Technically I think we’re called a ‘Host’,” Anna pointed out absentmindedly, as she looked at her own identical box, weighing it to try and guess what it was.

Sierra rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Now I feel bad for not getting you anything,” she shrugged, realizing just how lame it would sound. “Guess I couldn’t think of something that would be…well, appropriate.”

“Hey, she ditched me too,” Anna chimed in, lightly punching her arm mockingly. “Though I can at least say I made some of the food for the party, so that was technically my gift to everyone.”

Ted waved dismissively, a smile on his face. “Don’t worry about it, Sierra. I’ll take your kill count as my Christmas present. Just keep killing more aliens.” He scratched his beard. “But I had the same problem as you, namely _‘What can I get my squadmates who have jetpacks and use laser weapons that would actually be alright?’_ Now, I can’t promise this is on the level of an Archangel suit, but I like how it turned out.”

“I swear that everyone in America is too stressed about gifts,” Anna said as she kept looking at the bottom of the box. “It’s the thought behind it that’s important. No one is going to tell you the gift you gave them is bad.”

Sierra coughed. “Well…about that…”

Anna just sighed. “Of course you did. Well, go on.”

Sierra flushed. “Uh, well, this was a long time ago. Back in high school. My boyfriend at the time had offhandedly mentioned that he liked this band, I don’t remember the name,” she winced. “In retrospect, he was very clearly being sarcastic, but since I wanted to do something nice, I ended up getting tickets – which were _not_ cheap – to go see them.”

“I don’t know what’s more surprising,” Anna commented. “That you somehow didn’t recognize sarcasm, or that you had a boyfriend.”

Sierra sniffed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Anna smirked. “Carry on.”

“At least the look on his face was funny,” Sierra recalled. “Well, right before he slowly asked me what this was supposed to be. It didn’t take us long to figure out the…miscommunication.”

“Well, sounds like he took it well,” Ted said. “So, what did you do with it?”

“Oh, we resold the tickets and I took him to dinner, than gave him whatever money was left.” Sierra had ultimately enjoyed the night, once that embarrassment had subsided. “And that is my story of why I suck at giving gifts and do the safe, but boring thing of just giving people money to actually buy what they want.”

“Do you not give out wish lists?” Anna asked.

“Well…”

“Note to self,” Anna muttered. “Make Sierra a wish list so she has actual gift ideas. Anyway, so what happened with this boyfriend?”

“Nothing bad, if you’re wondering,” she shrugged. “Different life choices. He went to school on the other side of the country, I went into military. It was sad, but we both knew it was for the best.” She paused, thinking. “I hope he’s still alive.”

A few moments of contemplative silence passed. “A good story,” Ted finally said. “But I want you to open the boxes now. That is why I wanted both of you here.”

“Good idea,” Anna said. “I’m guessing it’s one of those action figures. It’s about the same size.”

“Nope,” Ted’s smile grew. “Go on then.”

Sierra pulled off the bow and followed with the wrapping paper. The box was roughly a foot tall, maybe a bit higher, and she opened it and was somewhat stunned as she pulled out a fully colored statue. It felt and weighed like it was made out of plastic or some kind of lightweight material, but felt sturdy enough.

But the statue itself was awesome. It had a flat base, and depicted above was an Archangel flying through the air, which was clearly her own armor from the color and markings, and shooting from her wrist was a massive gout of flame roasting a Muton, which seemed to be the main support for keeping the figure ‘flying’ above.

It was the colors that really brought it together, and it was clear that there had been a lot of time and energy put into this. “Did you make this?” She asked incredulously.

“Well, I _designed_ it,” he said modestly. “It involved me having to learn how to work a bunch of modeling programs and making something that was actually decent. 3D printers are great, and that was the easiest part.” He grinned. “The colors were all mine though, and yours in particular weren’t easy.”

“Damn,” Anna whistled. “You never said you were an artist.”

Sierra looked over Anna’s own statue, and it was equally impressive. It depicted Anna’s Archangel hovering shortly above the ground, supported by fiery jets, as she fired at what was probably a Vitakarian soldier, while a brightly colored explosion was killing a Muton in wonderful detail. There were other alien corpses on the ground, dead judging by the missing limbs and yellow wounds.

“Mine has more dead aliens,” Anna smirked. “Therefore it is better.”

“Yeah,” Sierra set her own on the table. “But mine has a flamethrower.” She narrowed her eyes as she noticed something interesting about the bases. “Hey…” she moved the bases a little closer together and then glanced towards a smiling Ted. “Alright, this is cool.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” he said, standing. “I designed it as one set, and then broke it into respective chunks. But it does look best when put together. And that includes my own piece.”

He reached down to pick up a plain box which had been there the whole time, and pulled out a similarly striking statue. In a similar vein to the others, it had Ted’s own Archangel suit, which was on the ground, and blasting psionic energy front his hands into a line of Mutons. He had somehow managed to capture the destructive distortion around him, with the suit being slightly obscured by purple ‘mist’.

He moved it forward, and completed the set. “And there we go. Maybe selfish, but if I’m making neat little pieces for both of you, I definitely want one of myself.”

“This is amazing,” Sierra said slowly. “Thank you for this.”

“Same,” Anna said. “No wonder you’ve been busy lately.”

“All I ask is you don’t break it,” Ted cautioned lightly. “It’s plastic, so it won’t crumble in your hand, but it’s not exactly made of alloys. Oh, but just in case.” He pulled his phone out. “I’m getting at least one picture-“

“Uh-huh, nope,” Anna stood and pulled Ted over to them and grabbed the camera. “You’re getting in the picture here.”

“But it won’t get the-“

“Hey, I got this,” Anna angled the camera. “I can take group selfies just fine.”

She snapped the picture and handed his phone back. “There you go, _now_ you take the other pictures you want.”

Sierra smiled, and regardless of what else happened today, this would definitely go into the books as a great Christmas. Certainly one of the most memorable, and not necessarily because she was in XCOM.

***

_Cybernetics Lab, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/25/2016 – 3:37 P.M._

The Commander was surprised both Vahlen and Shen wanted to meet today of all days, but he supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to expect they would use it as the demonstration of another project. As a gift of sorts. If so, he wasn’t complaining.

The Engineering Bay was quiet as the workers were enjoying their day off in celebration, and most of the machines were also powered off minus the generators and MELD Production plants. It was a good feeling not to have to worry about running out of MELD, and they were producing enough to likely support a small country. More than enough for XCOM.

The circular doors to the Cybernetics Lab slid open and a few minutes later he was back in the Lab, which looked almost the same as it had a few days ago. The MEC suits were still and no machines were moving. Shen and Vahlen were standing a short ways into the Lab, and beside them were two other figures, one armored, the other not.

“Commander, Merry Christmas,” Shen greeted.

“Same to you, Shen,” the Commander reciprocated. “So, you and Moira, you wanted to show me this today?”

“Yes, it just so happened that we completed Project Achilles several days ago,” Vahlen said. “And both our volunteers underwent the procedure successfully, as you can see.”

The Commander looked to the two figures. Vahlen had let him know that both Zara Venator and Isaac Cabal had volunteered for the procedure, and he could definitely tell some differences. Namely that Zara’s hair was missing. “They said it was necessary,” Zara said, shrugging as she noticed him looking. “It’ll grow back eventually.”

Aside from that, she looked largely the same, although her skin seemed to be almost…flowing in some places, with orange ripples running throughout. Not quite translucent, but something fairly close. “So,” the Commander crossed his arms. “The body was enhanced with MELD, if I recall correctly.”

“Correct,” Vahlen stepped forward. “The skeletal structure was hardened with MELD, making it extremely difficult to break or injure. The organs have similarly been enhanced to be more efficient and heal quickly, and the nervous system is able to be controlled via the Neural Regulator, as in pain can be shut off.”

“Good thing too,” Zara raised her hand, and the Commander watched in fascination as her skin seemed to pull back, revealing the raw muscle underneath. “I don’t think I’d be able to do this if I could feel pain.”

“And yes,” Vahlen said. “The skin has been replaced with a MELD equivalent. It can facilitate protection, appearance control, and enhanced healing. An improved Iron Skin, if you would. Instead of reinforcing the skin with MELD, it has replaced it entirely.”

“Not going to lie,” Zara grimaced. “The appearance changer thing is weird as hell. Still, I can demonstrate.” She closed her eyes, and before his eyes he watched her white skin turn to brown, and when she opened her eyes and showed her now-blue irises, she looked almost unrecognizable. No, she _was_ unrecognizable aside from the voice.

“Huh.” Was all he said. “It did work.”

“Don’t expect I’ll be using this much,” Zara said as she reverted to her normal skin tone. “But Zhang will love it.”

“This isn’t quite perfect,” Shen pointed out. “It only changes skin and eye color, and doesn’t change facial structure or voice. But appearance-wise, it is an improvement.”

“So how durable is she?” The Commander asked, walking around her.

Zara sighed and unstrapped the gauss pistol on her waist and tossed it to him. “Shoot me and find out. Don’t worry, I won’t feel a thing. Not the head though.” She shot a glance at Vahlen. “While they say that even a headshot should be survivable if I’m fortified, I’m not doing that yet.”

The Commander moved around until everyone except Zara was behind him, took aim at her chest and fired several shots, then shot once in the arm and leg. The impacts did force her to stumble back, but she showed no signs of pain. Curiously enough he saw no blood leak out from the wounds and a minute or so later they closed up.

“Wounded blood vessels clot almost immediately if a breach is detected,” Vahlen explained. “Another benefit to injecting the blood with nanites. Skin wounds are healed to seal from outside contamination, and the wounded tissue internally will be repaired.”

“The downside is that I need to keep my MELD levels up,” Zara said, pulling out a small cube from a pocket. “Too many nanites used and I won’t function. Which is what these are for.” Her skin pulled back from her shoulder, and there was a small implant embedded in the muscle. She placed the cube into it and it disappeared as the MELD was disappeared into her body. The skin closed back up over it.

“Impressive,” the Commander said. “And you can harden the skin?”

“Yep,” she smiled and her skin began changing color again until it was a steel grey with the interlocking hexagonal pattern which was far more noticeable than on the Iron Skin modification. “I would not advise getting punched by me when I’m like this. Or trying to punch me in the first place.”

The Commander tapped a finger on her arm which was extended to him. It didn’t make any sound, and definitely wasn’t something that reminded him of metal. But it _was_ hard and cold. If he didn’t know better, his first guess would be that this was a machine instead of an actual person. “And I assume this holds up under heavier fire?”

“We tested it against plasma, laser, and gauss,” Shen said. “Along with grenades. Those did the most damage, followed by plasma and gauss. Lasers were not as effective against it.”

“Excellent,” the Commander gave a grim smile. “And psionics?”

“Depends on the intensity,” Vahlen answered. “However, they are at least on par with plasma. Destructive psionics are one of the highest dangers to Operators, but it needs to be sustained as the skin _will_ heal injuries until MELD reserves are depleted.”

“Now, this would already be a dangerous opponent to fight,” Shen said, gesturing the other armored soldier, Isaac, forward. “But with the additional capabilities of Operated MELD, the potential is limitless. So we designed a suit of armor specific to the MELD Operators.”

The suit itself was a dull grey, and extremely streamlined and thin compared to the Titan armor. It was sleek, aesthetically pleasing, and more attuned to the physiology of Humans. “This is Warden-class armor,” Shen continued. “Designed to integrate and connect to the Neural Regulator of the user, store large quantities of MELD, and finally to use them.”

“May I demonstrate, Doctor?” Isaac asked, glancing over to him.

Shen waved him forward. “Go ahead.

Isaac stepped forward, and several of the arm pieces of the armor slid back; arms at his sides, what looked like orange-tinged dust spilled out, swirling around the gauntlets. “The Neural Regulator has some storage capacity,” he explained to the Commander. “Both Doctor Shen and Vahlen have been helpful enough to include pre-built schematics into them, to help with construction and utilization. All I have to do is recall the correct schematic.”

The nanites around his left hand swirled into an extremely thin integrated blade which jutted out of the wrist, while he raised his other hand and the nanites flew towards a spot a short distance away, and began forming into a small barricade. “I have options here,” Isaac continued as the nanites began forming. “Entire structures are extremely draining, so this is best used for reinforcement and debris clearing. I can also permanently establish a structure, or allow it to be recalled.”

At a gesture, the barricade collapsed into dust and flew back towards him. “For example, I can manufacture explosives and ammunition, provided the needed materials are around,” he continued. “These would be permanent, and of course I can consume debris or corpses to increase or replenish MELD numbers, all of which are slaved only to my Neural Regulator. I can’t be hacked wirelessly, and even finding a physical port is difficult since it’s under my skin.”

The blade on his wrist dissipated, and all the nanites went back into the suit as the panels closed back up, sealing the suit. “I can also obviously reinforce the suit, or repair it if needed. It’s more durable than it looks.”

“There were aspects borrowed from the Titan armor,” Shen confirmed. “It will provide sufficient protection. While I doubt our MELD Operators will be numerous, I can easily see even one posing a challenge for even the Battlemaster.”

“Given how he can’t exactly slice nanites,” the Commander said slowly. “I think we might have something that will scare him.”

“Indeed,” Shen said, looking pleased. “And I would like to say once more how much both of your sacrifices for this are appreciated.”

“Please,” Zara waved a hand. “I’m more than happy with the tradeoff. Anything that helps kill more aliens is good for me.” Her lips curled into a vengeful smile. “They won’t know what hit them.”

On that, the Commander had to agree.

Of many of the war-altering additions that were being developed, this might just be the most dangerous.

***

_Collective Spacecraft Storage_

_12/27/2016 – 9:09 P.M._

Finally on his way to Andromeda Prime, Nartha was considering the best approach. The easiest thing to do would be to just request access, and once the situation was explained, then go from there. As long as he brought back something plausible, the Zar’Chon would be satisfied.

The bigger issue was if he was going to be able to find any support at all.

Right now he was just refueling and staying for the night before going through the Gateway. Collective Spacecraft storage stations didn’t have too much in the way of luxury, but they were perfectly serviceable. They had beds, food, and even repair crews and equipment if needed. Useful, though he fortunately didn’t have to utilize such.

“I agree.”

He nearly jumped and made ready to fire the pistol until he realized he had set it on the table. However, a few seconds later he just decided to glare at the figure of the amused Chronicler, standing by the wall in shadow. “I really don’t like you doing that.” He cocked his head and saw that the Chronicler was not alone.

Beside him was a much leaner armed and helmeted figure, possibly a female since she was somewhat shorter. Unlike the grey stony armor of the Chronicler, the armor of the other figure was black, though it seemed to have the same stony texture. Unlike the strange symbol of the Chronicler, her own seemed to have an outline of some kind of Earth animal, some kind of cat or tiger it looked like.

Interestingly, she also had some kind of sword strapped to her back. He looked back to the Chronicler. “Who is this?”

“Fiona Dorren, at your service,” the woman said with a short wave, her voice slightly synthesized from the helmet. “I was asked to come along.” She looked around the room. “Your worlds really are fascinating.”

Nartha narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“We’re going to pay XCOM a visit,” the Chronicler said. “And now is the perfect opportunity to return and give the Commander a more accurate report on the Collective.”

Nartha quickly considered that. Assuming that the Chronicler was trustworthy – and even if he wasn’t, he didn’t seem to have a lot of choice here – there was still the issue that he was on a mission and his absence might be noticed. “For how long?”

“No more than a day,” the Chronicler said, smiling. “You’ll be brought right back here, and I’ve already taken care of any issues that might arise. Your ship and room will be untouched, and no one will notice you leave when you return.”

 “Alright,” he stood. “It would be good to return to XCOM. I’m curious how the war is going from their perspective.”

“Trust me,” Fiona said. “It’s going to start getting a lot better.” She exchanged a look with the Chronicler. “You want to do it, or should I?”

“You do it,” he said. “You need the practice.”

Nartha could imagine a raised eyebrow. “I would prefer not to kill him.”

“Then don’t.”

Nartha looked between both of them. “Should I be concerned?”

“No,” the Chronicler stated without ambiguity. “She knows what she is doing.”

Fiona shot a glance at the Chronicler. “You know what-“

“You are protected,” he interrupted. “They will not pursue you here.”

“Very well,” she stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “This won’t take long. Just relax.”

The air around them shimmered a blue-green, and then there was a white flash, leaving no trace of any of them behind.

***

_Containment Cells, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/27/2018 – 8:08 A.M._

All of the Internal Council, now including Iosif and Creed, with Aegis also in attendance, stood before Vahlen with one of the test subjects at her side. The completion of the Manchurian Restraints had been announced, and it was time to demonstrate the results. Vahlen stood proud as she began. “After a significant amount of time, resources, and work poured into this project, the Manchurian Restraints have been completed to my satisfaction.”

There were a bunch of approving nods and congratulations. “The entire process has been documented extensively,” she continued. “However, there are three ways the Restraints operate beyond what you might be familiar with. The first is that all will retain the neural bomb, which acts as a final failsafe if all else fails. The procedures for this will not be changed.”

She pulled out a small device. “The second you are aware is the verbal conditioning, which will allow users the ability to set instructions and orders. But this could potentially be compromised, so there is an additional tool provided.” She clicked a button on the device and the face of the test subject stiffened and he fell to the ground, though he was still conscious, as his far-staring eyes showed.

“This sends a signal to an implant just above the ear, which emits a frequency that will stop all current actions,” Vahlen said. “In the event our psions are compromised and are conditioned to ignore resets, this will allow us to override those orders and reestablish control over them. While it might not be feasible for ADVENT, within XCOM I would advise that each psion have a unique frequency, even if it’s a miniscule change.”

The test subject got back up automatically. “There are different levels of commands,” Vahlen said, turning to the subject. “Upon the receiving of the Restraints, a baseline command will be executed, which is where deep-level commands will be issued. This is where you can prevent defections to alien forces, inability to kill XCOM, and more. These can be changed with resets, but the process will have to be repeated in its entirety.”

“And what is this code word?” Zhang asked. “Too short and it can be easily found or accidentally said. Too long and it might take too long to execute.”

“We have been using a combination of letters and numbers,” Vahlen explained. “After five letters or numbers are said, the person will be forced to stop for thirty seconds, which is more than enough time to complete the code phrase. This is something you are only supposed to use in emergencies. I recommend no fewer than ten unique letters and numbers.”

“How complex can commands be?” Creed asked. “Can you have psions take commands from…say…the Internal Council, but not from anyone else.”

“Absolutely,” Vahlen said. “The commands can be as simple or complex as needed. One thing you need to be careful of is ensuring there are no loopholes, and at the same time allowing flexibility in interpreting instructions.”

“So you can make exceptions,” Creed nodded. “Good to know.”

“How does the psionic defense work?” Jackson asked.

“It will act in much the same way as the Neural Regulator,” Vahlen said. “However, we can be more flexible here. You can establish exactly what they need to do in the event of a telepathic attack. It can be to execute the current instruction, report to their superior, or simply fall unconscious. I do want to note that this does not prevent mind reading, just mind control.”

“Better than what we have now,” the Commander said. “But this is not exactly compatible with psions.”

“No,” Vahlen shook her head. “Perhaps if we can one day identify the difference between self-produced, and hostile psionics, but we have not reached that point yet.”

“What about control over bodily functions?” Zhang asked. “Specifically pain resistance.”

“That can be done,” Vahlen confirmed. “The brain can shut down the ability to sense pain, though the circumstances where it would be allowed would have to be…specific.”

“But possible,” Zhang nodded. “Good.”

“What happens if they can’t hear commands?” Jackson inquired. “That seems like a loophole which could be exploited.”

Vahlen raised the device. “If they are hostile, this will force them into a malleable state, regardless if they hear it or not. Commands can be issued then. It is advised that a long-term command be implemented which can prevent this kind of rebellion.”

The Commander looked at the blank-faced test subject. “Can you issue orders using the code phrase or will that force a reset?”

“No, a reset has to be explicitly ordered,” Vahlen said. “And yes, you can. They will have a temporary command implemented, and they will execute it immediately. This will only be applied once, and the code phrase has to be repeated for additional commands. This was implemented as intentionally slow to prevent overuse.”

She handed the test subject a grenade which was on the table. “This test subject is incapable of acting against us in any way. There will be no better demonstration than giving him this and continuing the remainder of this discussion.”

The test subject took the grenade, but just held it with a blank stare on his face. Vahlen turned back to them as Iosif spoke. “This seems well-done, but there is something of an issue. If mind reading is not prevented, then…what is stopping a telepath from learning the code phrases of anyone here? Or our soldiers for that matter? Given what the Imperator and Overmind can do, this seems risky as we could accidentally give them control over all of our psions.”

“We realized this issue,” Vahlen motioned Shen forward. “And we have a solution.”

“Yes,” Shen adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “None of us will know the code phrases. And if we do, we will soon erase them from our memory.”

Jackson coughed. “Sorry, what?”

“We feel it is best that all Manchurian commands be issued through JULIAN,” Shen said. “Thanks to both the Chinese and the help of our Andromedon allies, JULIAN is in a state where this is feasible. He can mimic all known words, and is currently the most advanced machine intelligence in the world. While not an AI, that will likely be the case soon.”

“JULIAN will issue code phrases and store them,” Vahlen said. “And only he will be able to give them to us upon a joint request of at least four members of the Internal Council. No one else can access them, and the Imperator nor Overmind can telepathically read or control a machine, nor take control of someone to access the files.”

“Leaving such power in the hands of a machine is dangerous,” Aegis warned. “Should it develop into an AI, it would have immense control over the entirety of XCOM. That is an extreme risk.”

“Perhaps,” Shen gave an indifferent look at Aegis. “But I would rather risk having a machine of our own design store them, than risk the Imperator learning them.”

“In any event,” Vahlen said. “After the respective psion has been contained or stopped, each person aware of the code phrase will either have it deleted from their memory by JULIAN, or it will be telepathically removed.”

“Thus preventing any telepath from learning it,” the Commander mused. “As much as this system is necessary, I do agree that Aegis has a point. Perhaps if we had more experience developing an AI, I would be more comfortable, but by its nature an AI might be able to overcome safeguards. Still, it is a lesser risk than the alternative.”

“Commander, A’Darrah has experience developing an AI,” Shen reminded him. “Union Apear specializes in this work, including how to include safeguards and methods to ensure it doesn’t become hostile. We are not going into this completely without experience.”

He really needed to check in on the status of JULIAN soon, since it had been some time. But today was not that day. “Well, considering all of us are still alive right now,” he glanced toward the test subject. “I believe this demonstration was highly informative. Now the question is how it will be applied.”

“It should definitely be applied to all aliens,” Iosif said. “Defectors or not, that is not a chance which should be taken.”

“I think most of us are in agreement on that,” the Commander glanced to Vahlen. “This can be done on aliens, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Excellent,” he paused. “This is necessary on all psions for sure, as was the original goal. As well as all those on the Internal Council.”

Shen coughed. “As much as I hate to suggest this, having a limited amount of commands for workers of critical systems would also be helpful. It would greatly hinder any sabotage.”

“XCOM Intelligence agents will undergo this,” Zhang added. “I would also request some of the more…uncooperative alien captives undergo them to send back to the Collective as spies. They need no longer be willing or compliant.”

“And just to be clear,” the Commander looked towards the Ethereal. “Aegis, you will be undergoing this as well, as will Caelior.”

“I do not want to put my free will into the database of a machine,” Aegis said flatly. “It is one thing for you to do this, and even to Caelior, but I can protect myself adequately enough from the Imperator.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Your skills are not in question. This is about ensuring you don’t betray us if you have second thoughts. This,” he motioned around. “Goes for all of us, you are not being singled out. But you will not be excluded just because you dislike the idea of artificial intelligence. If you don’t like that, you can leave.”

“I highly doubt you wish that outcome,” Aegis said just as neutrally. “You need my help, and I assure you I have no intentions of betraying you.”

“I believe you,” the Commander said. “But if you want to stay here, then you _will_ undergo the procedure, same as the rest of us. If you don’t, you can go to ADVENT. Perhaps we need your help, but if you don’t wish to follow our own rules, then that would just confirm you are more interested in using us than actually aiding our side.”

“Guilting me is not an effective tactic,” Aegis said.

“I’m not,” the Commander answered firmly. “I’m telling you what your options are. You will either trust us, or you don’t.” He stopped to think. “Psions, like it or not, are dangerous. Me, Vahlen, and Iosif are all such, but we can clearly see that. They do not deserve to have unlimited power just because they have abilities. The Ethereals were, and are, unchecked in their power, and they have used it to dominate others. We will not follow that same path, nor will we tolerate such from other species. The time of psionic supremacy will end now.”

Aegis was silent for a few moments. “If I do this, I will not have my phrase stored in a machine. I do not care who administers it, but it will not be done your way, nor can it be stored by such. I accept the security risk.”

“We can work with that,” the Commander said, glad Aegis wasn’t going to be unreasonable. “In the meantime, Jackson, send this over to ADVENT so they can start implementing it.” He turned to Vahlen. “Excellent work today, Vahlen. Everyone is dismissed, and the implementation of the Restraints will begin over the next couple weeks.”

All of them departed, with Vahlen plucking the grenade out of the hand of the test subject with a smile on her face. The Commander wondered what Vahlen would do with him, but it wasn’t important.

Another project down. And this was one of the most important.

***

_Officer of the Commander, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/26/2016 – 9:00 P.M._

The Commander felt that the aliens were going to be… _surprised_ when they fought next. At the very least they’d find themselves forced to put some effort into their attacks, assuming they weren’t doing that already. But the combined threat of Shoggoths, MELD Operators, Titan Armor, Valkyries, and the Manchurian Restraints gave them far more of a chance than before.

At the same time, he knew it would be a mistake to think the aliens weren’t making similar improvements.

The Imperator had Patricia. The Battlemaster likely wouldn’t take the recent defeats lightly. There were concerns, and with Caelior now in their control, that gave them another tool to use.

The room felt colder than usual; maybe because he was sitting alone in his office. Appropriate documents had been distributed to the soldiers informing them of the Operator position, as well as the Restraints. Initial applications on psions and Intelligence personnel would begin happening within the next few days.

While the idea didn’t exactly seem to be popular, it wasn’t being actively condemned. They probably felt better since he had included that this explicitly included the Internal Council and himself personally.

In the meantime, ADVENT was working on their own plans. There were some interesting ideas he had heard about, in particular their Celestial Project and AEGIS being implemented. Then there were the continued efforts to bring the rest of the world into the fold. Once Britain announced their referendum and won, the EU would collapse.

There were too many countries gone, it was no longer a power in the world. China was the only one, and it was currently an ally. Hopefully once Europe was secured, Saudia would focus her attention on Africa. The SAS was a development that he had only looked at recently, but it did not look promising. Ignoring that it was a clear power grab, that they were backed by ADVENT defectors was not something that should go unpunished.

However, at least ADVENT could now fully expand the PRIEST Program to match the initial document. The threat of a psionic takeover, no matter how small the probability, would be eliminated completely.

That did highlight something that would have to be dealt with later: JULIAN.

There was the question about just what to _do_ with an AI. The Commander knew they would develop one eventually, so the question was how to handle the moment when it became self-aware. It was a machine, created to protect Humanity, but there was very little guarantee that it would want that. It would ask questions, develop something akin to emotions, and likely be far more intelligent than any organic being could ever hope to be.

The science fiction movies depicting an AI takeover didn’t not necessarily seem far-fetched. Those either happened because of bad programming instructions, or because the machines rebelled. And while in the end, Humanity emerged victorious, in real life he doubted it would be so easy. He scowled to himself, setting the tablet down. He was avoiding the actual question.

The question of whether to treat it as alive or not. If the former, then forcing it to fulfill its intended purpose was essentially slavery. And if they went along anyway, there was the distinct possibility that it would try and fight back in some way. Then again, that _might not_ happen, and such actions could be programmed to be impossible.

But it seemed to him that it would be more beneficial if the AI would work by their side willingly. There were risks to unleashing an unrestrained AI on the galaxy, but at the moment the Collective was more at risk than Humanity…especially since they hated the idea of an artificial intelligence. That alone might be sufficient motivation for an AI JULIAN was developing into.

He would have to talk to Shen about the best approach. He personally held a similar opinion to an AI that he did to the idea of clones. If they were capable of sapient and independent thought, reasoning, and emotion, they were alive, or at least deserving of being treated as such. Given the vast range of life just on Earth, much less beyond it, an artificial intelligence didn’t seem out of the question.

Those opposed were likely worried about being surpassed if there was ever a conflict.

Of course, there had to _be_ a conflict for that fear to be valid.

One that had yet to materialize.

Either way, a decision should be made on how to deal with JULIAN sooner than later. But not tonight, there had been enough done today, and some sleep was warranted. He moved to stand when the air around his office shimmered and the Chronicler stepped through, encased in his armor with a case in his hand.

The Commander relaxed his hand, which was near his belt while the other was prepared to telekinetically attack. “Commander,” the Chronicler greeted. “Apologies for the delay, I’ve been busy.”

“Considering we suspected you were dead, I’m not surprised,” the Commander said slowly. “I did get your message from your friend. You need to get more subtle agents.”

The Chronicler gave a small smile. “She’ll get there. But I’ve brought along someone you might be interested in seeing.” He glanced to his right. “Assuming they’ll get here.”

Almost on cue there was a blue-green flash, far less subtle than the Chronicler’s entrance, and an armored figure appeared, along with a Vitakarian. The Commander blinked, already suspecting who this was. He wasn’t in his Human disguise anymore, but he still had the same face. “Nartha?”

The alien raised a hand. “Hello, Commander. We have a lot to talk about.”

***

_Officer of the Commander, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/26/2016 – 10:03 P.M._

Rarely was the Internal Council summoned after the day was done, but the arrival of their Zararch spy and visitors presumably representing a Sovereign One was a notable exception. Nartha hadn’t wasted time in giving them a report on the state of the Collective. News that was both reassuring, and somewhat worrying.

The good news was that the Collective was, as they had suspected, close to fractured. There were clear divisions, especially within the Andromedons. The bad news was that it sounded like the Battlemaster was working to correct those flaws as quickly as possible.

“I admit,” the Commander said. “I didn’t expect we’d speak to you for a long time.”

“Neither did I,” Nartha admitted. “Though I was planning to establish some kind of contact sooner or later. I’ve been attempting to avoid unnecessary risks.”

“That you’ve managed to not become captured while retaining your position is impressive,” Zhang said, giving a rare compliment. “Well done.”

“I’ve done what I can,” Nartha sighed. “Though it’s…not looking good for your species. Even if you get off Earth…there is an entire Collective waiting for you.”

“The Andromedons might solve that issue for us,” Creed noted. “You’re being ordered to investigate a prominent Union. That bodes well. If the Collective is busy with an Andromedon civil war _and_ us, that will weaken them.”

“Assuming that the Imperator allows that to happen,” Aegis pointed out. “He would not risk another internal conflict, not now.”

“Would he have a choice?” Iosif asked. “Unless he wants to show his intentions, there are few options.”

“The Imperator does not act with obvious and incriminating intent,” Aegis sniffed. “He is subtler than that. I suspect the Andromedons would never learn a thing.”

“I would be surprised if that was the case,” Shen pondered, scratching his chin. “We cannot have been the first species to recognize the danger of psionics.”

“In any case,” Nartha said. “The Nulorian would certainly be willing to work with us. They’ve been wanting a chance to bring down the Collective for decades. They do trust me now, and it is only a matter of time until I am allowed to speak to Miridian.”

“Let’s be realistic,” Zhang crossed his arms. “The Nulorian are good distractions, but they are a minor power at best, and largely confined to Vitakar. The Andromedons represent a far better ally we should pursue.”

“Agreed,” the Commander nodded. “But the Nulorian will be useful against the forces on Vitakar. There is no reason to ignore them.” He glanced to Nartha. “I suppose thanks to our friends,” he nodded towards the Chronicler and the unhelmeted Fiona. “We can establish a more…formal relationship.”

“We’re not your personal transportation service,” Fiona chimed in. “Just warning you.”

“I don’t expect you to be,” the Commander said without looking at her. “But that can be detailed later. The point is we now have a way into the Collective, and we are going to use it.”

“I think we should move to the other aspect of this,” Vahlen said, looking to the mysterious duo. “The two of you. Who are you and what is your part in this war?”

“I suspect Agent Gertrude has told you what she knew,” the Chronicler said with a smile. “And we had our own brief discussion. But I am simply known as the Chronicler, formerly of EXALT and ADVENT, and now act as a…representative of sorts.” He motioned to the side. “And this is Fiona Dorren, another one who is working with us.”

Working with. Curious. Fiona raised a gauntleted hand. “Pleasure to meet all of you.”

“That tells us very little,” Vahlen said. “We already know that. Also that you represent a Sovereign One.”

“Correct,” the Chronicler affirmed. “And one who has now taken more of an interest in this conflict. When Quisilia attempted to kill me, he fully…awakened him…for lack of a better word. He does not wish his eyes and hands to be killed.”

The Commander narrowed his eyebrows. “Awakened? He was asleep?”

The Chronicler set down his case on the desk and unlatched it. “I believe, Commander, that it would be easier for all of us if you spoke with him directly. He wants to speak to you personally.” It opened to reveal one of the Sovereign Orbs, with the deep blue hypnotic ripples flowing within it. “I believe your questions can be best answered by him. I am merely a voice or representative, and while I know much, he would prefer to speak to you himself.”

“I would be careful, Commander,” Aegis cautioned. “A rogue Sovereign One might not be trustworthy.”

 _“Rogue_?” The Chronicler laughed at that. “You know nothing, Ethereal. He is no more rogue than the Sovereign the Imperator serves, nor the one he attempts to exploit.” He turned to the Ethereal. “There is no such thing as a _rogue_ Sovereign One, Aegis. There are merely those who are different from each other.”

He peered at the silent Ethereal. “Did you believe that you had made contact with a group? The last of their kind?” He narrowed his lips to a thin, grim line. “No, whoever it was lied if you believe that. Your kind are useful tools in the grand strategy taking place now; they are merely one side in a conflict the scale of this universe.”

He looked back to the Commander. “Have Vahlen read my mind if you believe I am attempting to deceive you. If I wished you harm, I would have killed you. XCOM has the rarest of opportunities facing them, and I suggest you consider carefully.”

There was a pause. “I cannot sense deception from him,” Vahlen said slowly. “He at least believes he is telling the truth.”

The Commander looked at the orb. “He communicates through that?”

“Yes,” was the answer. “Place your hand on it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Abby’s report specified she came across one and you told her to avoid it.”

“If his mind is touched,” the Chronicler said. “The immediate reflex is too much for a normal mind to handle. But he is prepared now, and you will not be harmed. I’m sure you can understand why I dissuaded Agent Gertrude from touching it. I assume her corpse would raise questions.”

The Commander sighed and moved over to the orb. “Let’s see how this goes,” he gave a look at the Chronicler. “If something happens, kill them.”

With that he placed a hand on the orb, which seemed to attach his hand to it, making him incapable of pulling it off. It was oddly warm, and he watched as the room and people inhabiting it faded from his vision as his surroundings turned a ocean blue, as if deep underwater. Some tinted light shown from above, but everywhere he looked, there was nothing but rippling teal and blue.

He was able to pull his hand off the orb now, which sank into the ground, upon which he was surprised to find was black rock of some kind. He knelt down and tapped it. While it did _feel_ like stone, it made no sound. It did feel like he was underwater, but somehow able to breathe. Looking around, the black rock seemed to be a ledge leading to empty space ahead.

Out of curiosity, he looked down and saw nothing but diminishing light. A bottomless pit of sorts. He walked to the edge of the ledge, and waited for several minutes for something to happen. Either a person, a voice, or _something_. But he initially felt, heard, and saw nothing. He looked down the edge, frowning.

Was he supposed to jump?

He didn’t believe he was in any danger if he did, because this was presumably a construct of the Sovereign One and no harm would come unless it was wished upon him. In that case…he didn’t have anything to lose.

Still, jumping off a cliff into the void was not something he was thrilled about.

So he jumped and fell into the black.

He couldn’t tell how long he was falling or at what speed; everything looked the same, and the gradual dissolution of color did little to give him an indication of speed. It didn’t feel like a freefall either, it felt like nothing at all, as if he was motionless and the world was moving around him instead. But soon the last of the light was gone and he was in complete darkness.

At that moment, the air seemed to grow thicker, though he could still breathe easily. And slowly but surely, he came to a complete stop. There was nothing around him, and the black was so complete he couldn’t see any part of his body. He tested his footing and it was at least solid; kneeling down once more he tested his fingers and the ground felt slick, but not wet and almost absorbent in a way.

Two massive blue lights appeared in front of him, in what seemed a close distance away, but once he got a good look at what was in front of him, corrected that to what was probably a significant distance. Two more lights appeared just above the first two, and he realized very quickly that they were _eyes_.

The illumination was not perfect, but he could make out some outline of the creature. There was no visible mouth he could see, though the skin seemed to be made out of armor or stone. It was difficult to estimate, but at the distance the eyes were away from him, each one was at least as large as his body. He could see two…appendages hanging from the body under the eyes, which he couldn’t follow further, and the body itself went up until he could see nothing.

This was all in his mind, but he would not have been surprised if this, which he assumed was a Sovereign One, was larger than most skyscrapers. However, from what little he could see…the Sovereign certainly had a tenuous visual similarity to the Director Flagships from the memory of Aegis.

 _“Commander.”_ The voice came from everywhere; booming and shaking the reality he was inhabiting. It drilled into his mind, echoing after each syllable and leaving a psionic impression he had learned to recognize by now. Every word was heard and understood with the original intent. It was not painful, but it was near-overwhelming. _“I have spoken to relatively few aliens in my lifetime. Most are irrelevant and meaningless in the vastness of time and space. But you have my attention, as does your species. We shall converse.”_

The Commander decided to start with a simple question. “I know you’re a Sovereign One. But I know little else. Who are you, and why are you on our planet?”

The reality around him shook and bubbled. _“I am T’Leth, Conqueror of the Nilassiah Galaxy, Ravager of Worlds, the Unshackled and Unbound, the Pawnless, the Warrior, I am the Sovereign of Destruction and War.”_ The immediate area around the Commander shook. _“I rejected the cowards my brethren have become; who hide behind others to wage war for this universe. In doing so I became a **target** , I faced trillions and destroyed countless worlds as I hunted down and purged those who believed their pawns gave them strength.”_

The blink the Sovereign gave briefly turned the world to darkness. _“This is not my galaxy of origin. I came from one far from here, Nilassiah. Humans call it the Black Eye. I waged war and won. I assumed control and would have been content. The Replicators, the ones the Ethereals called Synthesized, soon came and I waged war to protect my galaxy. Some of those who I had thought defeated returned, and devoted their power to also destroying me.”_

The air quivered. _“It was too much for even me, and I was damaged and fled to your galaxy. I observed for millions of years, attempting to survive as I was caught in another constant war. I was continuously hounded and hurt once more, but I had learned what I wished. I withdrew to a random world, and I slept. This world was your own.”_

Blackness and light again. _“I stayed in a healing trance for millennia. I was here before your species evolved into what it is today, and for that time I have been asleep. The Chronicler was the first to learn of me, and when I first stirred and realized that there was a species on this planet. He acted as my eyes and window into your world, one where I learned all there was to know about your species. But my mind was still clouded; tired and weary from what I have endured.”_

The eyes seemed to have grown more intense. _“Your species posed an interesting question, but I did not think to intervene. Your kind were intelligent, but violent. Empathetic, but ruthless. A walking contradiction I did not wish to puzzle out. I expected you would destroy yourself, but each time your armageddon approached, you avoided this fate. That attracted my attention. What has happened since the Ethereals came has solidified it.”_

“How?”

 _“You should not be alive,”_ was the answer. _“You faced superior technology, numbers, and powers you did not understand, but not only did you defy these aggressors, you extracted victories. You, Commander, have reshaped your species into something to challenge those who should be far greater. The Ethereals perceive your species as a **threat** , and I must understand why.”_

“It isn’t just me,” the Commander said. “I have allies, friends, and I don’t rely on just myself. Too many fall to their own hubris. I make attempts to avoid that when I can.”

 _“But it is you who are their resolve,”_ T’Leth rumbled. _“You have pushed Humanity farther than in centuries within a few short years. You removed those who stood in your way with ruthless pragmatism, but out of necessity, not malice. You personally shaped ADVENT into what it is today, using one who was formerly your enemy. You were wise enough to see the opportunities again and again. It is not just you who are responsible, Commander, but Humanity would have fallen if you were not the Commander of XCOM.”_

“Then I think you already know why I am considered a threat,” he paused. “At least for some. I suspect the Imperator does not hold that opinion.”

The voice of T’Leth sounded almost amused. _“Ironic. I have seen it happen time and time again. Sovereigns rise, they acquire knowledge, they expand and dominate. And they become arrogant. The Imperator is no different than my brethren; he believes he **knows** our kind. I am not certain of his plans, but his attempts to manipulate us indicate he intends to betray his benefactor.”_ The voice turned deeper. _“A show of a mortal attempting to break free of our reach. The Imperator will fail. The Sovereign Ones control this Universe, now and forever. It is merely a question of which one will rule.”_

That did not sound promising. Not for them. “Then there are more than the one assisting the Imperator.” It wasn’t a question.

_“Yes. Many more. There is no such thing as independence in this galaxy, Commander. There are proxies or those who soon will be. Species are nurtured and grown, evolve and advance for the sole purpose of acting as tools for a Sovereign benefactor. The galaxy is a chessboard, and the Sovereigns are the everlasting players.”_

“How long has it been going on?”

 _“Since the beginning of my life,”_ came the answer. _“Billions of years ago. The conflicts have raged for far longer. The original reasons have long been forgotten, but it does not matter. This is reality. The conflicts are confined to the galaxies, but it will soon grow beyond that. The next step will be a war between galaxies, and it will continue until the stars of the Universe fade, or the last Sovereign stands tall, the victor of a war which claimed the Universe. This is inevitable, but it will not happen for trillions of years.”_

The Commander shook his head. The entire thing seemed so pointless to him. “But why? Why would every single Sovereign do this?”

 _“It is on a scale you cannot comprehend yet,”_ T’Leth said simply. _“Look at what you are doing now for reasons. Your purge of the United Nations, the War on Terror, the Annexation of Canada. Those Humans did not match your vision of your ideal world, and so you **acted**. Even now you work to reshape the world in your image. ADVENT is your tool, and XCOM is your weapon.”_

There was another rumble. _“And yet you will protest that you have made peaceful alliances. Gathered allies. This is because you do not break or bend; you are **driven** in your vision for Humanity, and those around you comply. Imagine, Commander, if every single Human were as driven and intelligent as you are. Do you imagine they would allow you free reign to bring a vision to life that does not align with their own? This is how we see the galaxy, Commander, and that is why there will never be peace.”_

The Commander crossed his arms, staring at the blue eyes. “If I’m being honest, it doesn’t sound like you’ve tried.”

 _“You cannot try something which is impossible to achieve,”_ T’Leth didn’t sound offended, but as if this was a pointless question. _“There have been alliances of Sovereign Ones. But they are done with the understanding that in the end, only one will rule.”_

There were a few moments of silence between the Human and alien.

“So what now?” The Commander asked. “What are you in all of this? What do you want with _us_?”

“ _I have little desire for proxies or puppets,”_ T’Leth said. _“Actions of those who fear to take risks and are afraid. I do not intend to assume control of your species, though it could be done easily.”_

“Your comment to Quisilia seemed to indicate otherwise.”

 _“A calculated risk,”_ T’Leth said. _“One which I knew the Ethereal would take to the Imperator. He has preconceived notions about us. I was simply giving him evidence to fulfill the stereotype he envisions. Believe me or not, but I am not one to take species as tools.”_

“I do have to ask why not,” the Commander said. “I can see the advantages.”

The booming voice sounded mildly irritated. _“It is lazy. It stifles creativity and fosters apathy. What fear do you have if you have an army of minions at your disposal? What incentive is there to end this conflict if you are never threatened? Sovereigns can become reliant on their proxies, and I have killed many who were like this, and I will never become one myself.”_ The voice trailed off.

 _“Yet, there are advantages. There are more options. Your reach is larger. But too many use them as crutches, not as tools to accomplish a task. And they commit the crime of not preparing to fight a Sovereign One, but the proxies of **other** Sovereigns. A waste of thousands of years, and throwing lives away for the sake of mere entertainment.” _ The voice turned disgusted. _“I have taken great pleasure in ripping such pathetic excuses apart.”_

The Commander considered what to say next. “You say that every Sovereign is…incompatible with your plans. If that is the case, _what_ do you plan for the galaxy should you succeed?”

_“I seek a galaxy that is self-sufficient, managed by a master species to keep the rest in line. I seek a galaxy that can withstand the might of threats beyond its edge; one which hunts and kills those who wish to disrupt the established order. I will turn this galaxy into an impregnable fortress, and once that is accomplished, I will continue to the next galaxy, taking the finest of my achievements and controlling it as well.”_

The Sovereign became quiet briefly. _“I have little interest in managing galaxies, that can be left to others. I can promise something other Sovereigns will not; the ability to exist and develop without interference. There will be no need for proxies to be used if there are no Sovereigns. The conflict has raged too long, and it is time that others are given the potential to rise to the level of a threat.”_

“This could threaten you as well.” The Commander noted.

 _“Perhaps.”_ T’Leth did not sound troubled. _“Yet would they fight me? Or the ones who wish their extermination. It is a risk, but victories are not achieved by being safe. This is merely the ideal outcome, Commander, I have contingencies if such does not go according to what I wish.”_

“I don’t suppose you’d mention what they are?”

_“Not now, Commander. Not yet.”_

Not unexpected, and as far as dealing with extraordinary powerful beings went, it didn’t sound like the _worst_ possible scenario. Not exactly ideal, but it could be much worse. But there was still what specifically T’Leth wanted with them. “So what about us?” The Commander asked. “You say this, but if you didn’t want to use us for something we wouldn’t be speaking.”

 _“We have a mutual enemy, Commander,”_ T’Leth said. _“The Imperator threatens your species. His benefactor threatens me. His reckless arrogance also threatens to unleash a monster on the galaxy, one I would see destroyed for all time. I see little reason for us to wage this war separately.”_

The Commander furrowed his eyebrows. “What monster?”

 _“An abomination which calls itself the Bringer of Paradise,”_ T’Leth visibly moved as he spoke, slightly up and down. _“A more mocking name I do not know. The Ethereal known as the Creator is at the center of it. The Bringer has been trapped in what you call the Psionosphere for billions of years either as a consequence of an attempt to transcend reality, or perhaps a means of survival. The details are long lost, but it has been trying to return.”_

“Why would the Imperator bring it over?” The Commander asked, frowning.

 _“Because he thinks he can control it,”_ T’Leth said. _“I do not know how he came to this conclusion, but I have seen the Bringer act before. It corrupts and dominates from a place none can reach. All it takes is one willing and curious subject, and it will spread. It has been treated as a deity, an apocalyptic figure who promises Paradise to those who join it. Lies and drivel, but it is effective. It has not crossed over to this world, but it is getting close. Very close.”_

Wonderful. Now things that shouldn’t actually exist seemed to be threatening them. “So we have mutual enemies. This sounds like something which is a threat to us as well…or soon will be.” He paused. “But the question is what we will do. You want an alliance, correct?”

 _“I am curious, Commander,”_ T’Leth said. _“What do you envision as…acceptable?”_

He raised an eyebrow. “Nice that you ask me. I’m well aware I’m not in a position of strength.”

_“Indulge me. I am curious.”_

“Fine,” the Commander said. “We work as allies. You provide us with the means to move our soldiers around the Collective, and teach us how to utilize and develop Sovereign technology. You also don’t interfere in our government or leadership positions, nor attempt to take control or otherwise betray us. In return, we willingly protect you and assist as needed in your own plans. Everything we know about the galaxy, you will know and since you don’t have a…traditional relationship with another species…you can more easily work from a position of safety, but not cowardice.”

T’Leth rumbled again, clearly amused. _“You propose working as an **ally**? Between a Sovereign One and a primitive species such as yourself? You are a bold one.”_

“Am I?” The Commander asked. “You’ve said yourself that we have your attention. You’ve seen what we’ve done and what we have the potential to do. You have no desire for a pawn, and we have no desire for a master. We are far more useful to you as an ally, primitive species or not. You say that too many Sovereigns waste their time killing their proxies in entertainment. Imagine a species capable of challenging Sovereigns. A species that is not only your ally, but one who does not wish to dominate this universe.”

There was a long silence. _“What you are proposing has only been done three times in this galaxy. All three times it has attracted the attention of the coward Sovereigns and then the Replicators. Yet each time they nearly conquered the galaxy. Perhaps there is merit in such an arrangement, at least for now. Even if this fails and your species dies, I will endure and learn. There is no reason to not take a risk.”_

The Commander felt himself breathe a little easier. “What of ADVENT then?”

 _“ADVENT is inconsequential,_ ” T’Leth dismissed. _“They are a consequence of your actions, and I have little interest in communicating with them. I do not wish my presence widely known outside of XCOM. If you must inform your Chancellor, I will allow it. But this agreement is between me and you, Commander, and by extension, XCOM. Not ADVENT.”_

There was something that did need to be addressed before this went further. “You’re aware of the capabilities of the Imperator and Overmind. Their telepathic abilities are…extensive, to say the least. We have taken steps to mitigate this, but it remains a risk.”

 _“Yes…”_ T’Leth said slowly. _“I have the capability to protect you. I can ensure that your bases of operation remain uncompromised. Give me the necessary reach, and your planet can be similarly protected. The Chronicler will explain how to accomplish this, but the powers of the Imperator can be dulled and rendered ineffective.”_

“And what about assisting us in understanding your technology?” The Commander asked. “Much of it is hard to create in the first place, let alone modify it.”

 _“Such can be provided,”_ T’Leth answered. _“Though even with the answers in front of you, comprehension is unlikely immediately. It would be years before even your most intelligent can begin to understand the intricacies of the power we create.”_

“Good enough,” the Commander nodded. “We don’t wish to become reliant. Understanding where to start will serve us just as well. From there we can…improve.”

_“Such statements are amusing, but I will indulge your optimism.”_

“This seems like an acceptable start,” he nodded. “What now?”

 _“Speak with the Chronicler,”_ T’Leth said. _“Determine a course of action. I will await to see the results. Return to your people now, Commander. We will speak again.”_

The Commander raised a hand in farewell. “I will. Merry Christmas!” He felt the Sovereign rumble once more and the world suddenly became brighter until the Commander was once more in his office surrounded by everyone. He pulled his hand off of the orb, and saw everyone looking at him awaiting answers. “That was…quick.” Vahlen said.

“Quick?” He’d been in there at least a half hour, probably more. “How long was I like that?”

“A minute, perhaps,” she said. “Did it work?”

He was still processing some of what had been said, but an analysis would be done later. “Yes,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up. “We are now allied with a Sovereign One.”


	36. For God and Country

 

_ADVENT Recruitment Center 0821, Atlanta – Georgia, United States of America_

_12/28/2016 – 10:11 A.M._

“Hello, what can I do for you today?”

He’d been thinking of coming here for days, and would have preferred to wait until it was less busy, but the Recruitment Centers were almost always busy so he figured he shouldn’t keep putting it off. “Yes. This is where you do testing for psionics, right?”

The uniformed woman on the other side of the table brightened. “Yes sir, it is. Do you wish to undergo testing?”

A shrug. “Why not?”

“Alright, I can get you set up for that today, if you want,” she said, picking up a tablet. “I do need you to go through the materials, sign with the stylus, and give it back. Essentially a consent form, and you are under no obligation to sign with ADVENT regardless of results. This is purely for testing.”

He took the tablet. “Don’t worry, I know what this is. It won’t take long.”

“Excellent! And your name?”

“Ivan Smirnov.”

“Got it,” she entered something, presumably his name, into her computer. “Just return that whenever you’re finished.”

Ivan walked to the first empty chair he could find and sat down, the tablet resting on his lap as he decided first to see who else was deciding to come here. ADVENT’s Recruitment Centers, like most of what they did, were of extremely high quality. While not especially big, the room was exceptionally clean, well-lit, which slightly contrasted the grey walls with red highlights.

The red ADVENT symbol was also prominently displayed on the walls, along with the various emblems for the branches. Army, Navy, Air and Space, PRIEST, and Special Forces. He couldn’t blame anyone who was taken in by the sleek design of it all. No matter what anyone said about ADVENT, none could deny they knew how to market.

As a result he wasn’t surprised to see the room contained mostly younger men and women, and not an insignificant number who were clearly in their thirties. He’d seen the recruitment numbers, and ADVENT was the fastest-growing military in all of recorded history, which was somewhat disingenuous considering the circumstances, and that they were comprised of multiple countries.

He wondered how many were here because they felt some kind of calling, or because they felt like there was no other choice. It was ironic that ADVENT was responsible for collapse of so many positions, yet managed to position themselves as an entity with open arms for the displaced.

Smart. A change from the incompetence of the past.

Ivan sighed, turned his attention to the tablet and settled in for a short period of reading legalese. To his mild surprise, it was surprisingly straightforward, and stated exactly what the testing would consist of, in what order, and what joining the PRIEST Division would entail.

A physical test of some kind, which he wasn’t worried about passing. He was healthy and in decent shape. This was also apparently where they would determine if he was psionically sensitive or not. If he was, he would be given a psychological test, likely to ensure he didn’t have any mental illnesses or something.

He was curious to see how that would go. There was a written portion, and an in-person interview. Likely to test comprehension and ensure they weren’t giving superpowers to idiots and criminals. He wasn’t concerned about that either, while he’d worked with criminals all his life, he was most certainly _not_ one.

As for his mental state, he knew there was nothing to be concerned about. He had no mental illnesses, and if necessary he could follow orders and the like. He wouldn’t claim to be the biggest patriot or fan of ADVENT, but he could work in it. All he was particularly concerned about was, if he was psionic, becoming such.

He’d do his time in ADVENT, and then do his own thing, preferably with something extra gifted to him. And if he wasn’t psionic, well, the military wasn’t the only option he had. ADVENT had no shortage of positions open.

“Another new recruit?” A man sitting a chair over asked. “Well, you’re not the usual crowd.”

“Potentially,” Ivan said, looking at the man. He was definitely younger than Ivan, probably mid-twenties in a grey suit, black hair and pale skin. Not really a person out of place. “You as well?”

“Air and Space,” he said, inclining his head. “Didn’t get a degree in aviation for nothing. Figure ADVENT could use more pilots. More interesting than flying commercial, anyway. So what about you?”

“If it goes well, PRIEST,” Ivan said. “Otherwise likely something with ADVENT Legal.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Psionics, huh? Interesting.” He looked up thoughtfully. “Considered that, but I think it’s best I don’t know. Much as I’d like that, I’d feel ADVENT would never let me go. They’re not big on risks. Or they could say no.”

Ivan lifted the tablet. “They would probably only say no if you were a criminal or just insane. They need psions; they’re not just going to turn them away.”

“Hopefully, for your sake,” the man shrugged. “I’ve heard opposite, but you might see. Well, assuming you are psionic.”

“True.”

“So what leads you to try that out?” he asked. “If your backup plan is ADVENT legal, I’m guessing you have something to do with that?”

“Criminal Defense.”

The man winced. “Ah. Sorry to hear that. For what it’s worth, I don’t agree with what they did for that. Can’t say I was a fan of the process, but I at least got the reasoning behind it.”

Ivan sighed. “You’re better than most people. Most were thrilled when ADVENT essentially abolished the system and turned trials into sentencing ceremonies.”

“I’m surprised that was never challenged,” the man noted. “I’d think there’d be a bunch of lawyers who’d protest that.”

He snorted. “Trust me, there _were_. And ADVENT just rewrote the laws and dismissed us. Stein herself essentially gloated, saying that “Our skills were no longer needed to defend the lowest in our society.”” His free hand clenched into a fist. “Fucking Stein. I will never understand why that sociopath was put in charge of _anything_.”

The man merely nodded. “Can’t disagree. Didn’t want to stay private? Do law but not for ADVENT?”

“I could,” Ivan shrugged. “But the way things are going, I might just be wasting my time if we end up losing, and I’d at least like to contribute in some way. For better or worse, ADVENT is here to stay, and afterwards that will be valuable to people.”

“ADVENT definitely isn’t going anywhere,” he nodded. “It’s the future, like it or not.” He glanced at the tablet in Ivan’s hand. “Ah, sorry, I’ll let you finish that up.”

“No problem,” he said, as he finished filling it out. “And I’ll wish you good luck…”

“Richard Anwar,” he extended a hand which Ivan took. “Pleasure to meet you, and hope everything works out for you.”

“The same for you,” Ivan nodded as he stood. “Good luck.” With that, he went to drop the tablet off at the desk. “Here you go. How long will it be?”

“I’ve put you in for our earliest opening, January second at three o’ clock,” she said, taking the tablet back. “Please try and be on time, otherwise it will be at least another week.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “We’ve got tight schedules.”

“Understandable.” It was at least good that he wouldn’t have to hang around here for hours. “I’ll be back at that time.”

“Excellent!” She smiled. “See you soon.”

Ivan hoped he would be that cheerful sometime, but all he managed was a polite nod as he left. That was a bit later than he was hoping for, but hopefully it would have a good ending. At least he’d have time now to work off his frustration at the fact this situation was even here to begin with. He hated missing it.

***

_ADVENT HQ – Switzerland_

_12/29/2016 – 9:00 A.M._

“Estimates say at least a couple months,” Kyong said as Saudia looked over the progress report. “With that said, with a project this size, that is remarkably efficient.”

“Efficiency is not the concern,” Saudia said, setting the tablet down contemplatively as she thought. “It’s going to be keeping this a secret. Even when the Restraints are…implemented…all it will take is one telepathic attack to get that information.”

“Which is why we keep it as restricted as possible,” Hassan added on the other side of the table. “Having it on a need-to-know basis is the best we can do. With that said, I doubt we’ll be able to keep it hidden forever. Are _all_ aspects of the Atlantis Project being implemented?”

“Yes,” Saudia confirmed. “The Nemo Protocol, armor, and weapons. Everything. The armor and weapons will be developed by separate teams and neither will know the bigger picture. Mercado has some prototypes, but testing will need to be done.”

Hassan scratched his chin. “Shipping the amount of materials needed will raise questions.”

“Initially,” Saudia said slowly. “However, we have Gateways to circumvent this. Materials can be transported through them from anywhere in the world without the need for repeated shipments. I will keep a Fleet patrolling the area, but it won’t be obvious they are watching over a certain area. It won’t be enough to attract the attention of the aliens.”

“We shall hope so,” Kyong said. “In any case I will prepare a statement if the media picks up on it.”

“Do it,” she said. “But under no circumstances can anyone outside of who I directly authorize know about this.”

“Understood, Chancellor.”

She nodded. “Now, the other two projects. Both look to be progressing well.”

“The Chinese have significantly assisted us with the Turing Project,” Hassan agreed. “I would recommend President Qin be publicly thanked when it is completed. With that said, I am unsure how the public, let alone unaffiliated nations, will react to an artificial intelligence.”

“All we need to show is that we can have it under control,” Kyong disputed. “Since we have handled psionics without incident, we have their trust. People just want assurance they will be safe, and if the AI that arises out of the Turing Project can achieve this, it is a simple matter of convincing them that is acceptable.”

“That isn’t what I’m especially concerned about,” Saudia noted slowly. “Project Seafoam is what I believe might cause controversy. Cloning organs and animal meat is one thing. The cloning of fully functional Humans will not be perceived the same way.”

“Agreed,” Kyong nodded. “I will warn you that there will be genuine objectors. Purists and religious fundamentalist groups. Especially when they hear details. There will be accusations that we are playing god by growing and improving the Human genome.”

“A vocal minority is not a concern,” Saudia dismissed with a sniff. “If we are going through the trouble of creating clones, they will be superior to the average Human. The genetic modifications we’ve already designed will not go to waste.”

“Honestly, you’re right,” Kyong said. “The larger questions will come from the ethics of the project. Of how the clones will be treated and their level of sentience. I am sure we don’t want to have the perception of leading a slave army.”

“I believe the best way to combat that would be to have one of the clones speak to the skeptics,” Saudia said. “Make it clear these are still Humans, give proof, and the problems will become quiet. But their Manchurian programming does not need to be shared.”

“Other countries will likely want to know similar details,” Hassan added. “There are still cultures that will look on this as…unnatural. It’s not going to be easy to change perceptions in a short amount of time. Education can solve this to a degree, but there is a certain amount that is ingrained from childhood and cultural norms.”

“We’ll deal with that issue when we have an actual working clone to show,” Saudia said, glancing down at the tablet. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be getting the first batch in a year. And that’s a generous estimate. In the meantime, we’ve got other more pressing matters to deal with while the aliens maintain this temporary ceasefire.”

“There… _is_ one more thing,” Kyong said, glancing down at the tablet again. “In fact, I was updated again this morning. It’s something I’ll be releasing a statement to the public on, but not before you’re up to speed on the situation.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Remember when Isomnum briefly arrived in D.C. and consigned several thousand people to mental institutions?” He asked.

She grimaced. “Yes. I don’t suppose the proposed psionic therapy has been helping?”

“It’s…a work in progress,” Kyong admitted. “This is an entirely new field of study, and while there have been some successes…even those people aren’t by any means cured. It might be years for them to be normal; months if we’re lucky.”

“What’s developed then?” She asked.

“Well…” Kyong paused, as if trying to think of what to say. “One of them woke up, so to speak.”

“The therapy worked?”

“That’s just it,” Kyong shook his head. “The man was in a coma-like state, with spurts of unconscious physical reaction, since the attack. The telepaths who tried to help were apparently so shaken they doubted they could help without threatening their own sanity. They’d suggested euthanization, but none of his family would allow it, especially since he wasn’t…technically ill. Just trapped in his head is how they described it.”

“And he just woke up?” Saudia asked. “No outside intervention?”

“Aside from IV tubes and standard coma care to keep him alive, no,” Kyong confirmed. “And it’s not really clear how he came out. He almost killed some of the orderlies when he woke up since he thought it was part of whatever nightmare he’d been in for the past few weeks.”

“Has he been debriefed?” Saudia asked curiously.

“He has,” Kyong said slowly, handing a document to her. “I’m not a doctor, but based on what he’s said, he didn’t come out of it entirely in the right state of mind. Claims of fighting through Hell and killing alien-looking demons don’t do much to disprove this. That isn’t what’s interesting.”

“What is?” She asked, as she skimmed the document.

“He has an…unusual reaction to psionics,” Kyong explained. “Telepathy in particular. His endocrine system is completely messed up, and floods him with adrenaline when a telepath touches his mind. It took several violent incidents before they made that connection. More interesting is that it seems like he’s immune to _all_ forms of emotional manipulation.”

Saudia cocked her head. “You mean that he’s…immune to fear?”

“It appears so,” Kyong nodded. “At his request, they did some experiments. It turned out that inducing _any_ emotion had no effect. It just made him angry.”

She set the report down. “Is he the only one like this?”

“Like _this_?” Kyong said. “Yes. Although there is a team which has requested to see if they could…replicate the results to a degree. Using either soldiers in a similar situation, or with volunteers.”

“Give tentative approval,” Saudia said slowly. “Provided Dr. Munju and Kettani sign off on it. Also make sure the Oversight Division is watching this. Who is this soldier?”

“Kane McTaggart,” Kyong recalled. “Just an ADVENT Soldier stationed in D.C., didn’t even specialize in anything. Has a history of aggression, but no reported incidents when deployed. Nothing especially out of the ordinary with him until now.”

“Is he psionic?”

“No, several tests confirmed that,” Kyong said. “Given how he has a physical reaction to telepathy, I doubt his body could handle actually _being_ a psion.”

“Keep me informed of this,” Saudia said, looking back to Hassan as she switched focuses. This was an interesting situation, but in the grand scheme of ADVENT, she doubted it would have much of an impact. At least not for a while. “In the meantime, we have an itinerary to get to.”

“Indeed.” Now Hassan prepared to list her more important itinerary. Her Chief Diplomat had been busy keeping everything running smoothly and scheduling without conflicts. “Your meeting with Prince Mason is scheduled three days from now, which has been personally approved by the Royal Family. I assume this is still agreeable?”

Ah, yes. “Yes,” Saudia frowned. “Which Prince was this?” The Royal Family had about four or five princes of various importance.

“Prince Mason,” Hassan said, glancing down at his tablet. “The Duke of Cambridge if it helps. Great-Grandson of the Queen.”

“Right,” Saudia had been rather surprised when the invitation had first been extended. She hadn’t expected the Royal Family would take a direct interest in ADVENT, and her specifically, especially given that they would become obsolete once Britain joined ADVENT. Yet the Prince apparently had something he wanted to propose to her.

It had her curious, if nothing else. While not the most important person in the Royal Family, a direct descendant of the Queen meant he had leverage. His background was especially interesting, as until just a few years ago, before his marriage, he had been a high-ranking officer in the British Armed Forces; somewhat traditional for a male in the Royal Family but something she could admire.

Her curiosity was certainly piqued, if nothing else.

“Speaking of Britain,” she recalled. “Has the referendum been announced?”

“Yes,” Kyong said. “I thought it best we not comment on it unless pressed, so not to give the impression we are swaying it one way or another. But the date is January 20th.”

“And the response?”

“At the moment, public support in favor of ‘yes’ is strong,” Hassan said. “Even the media is split on it, and at the moment are keeping a more neutral stance. Parliament is unsurprisingly furious the Prime Minister would go behind their backs like this.”

“Yes, how shocking,” Saudia noted dryly. “Keep me appraised of how that goes.”

“And also on the agenda is the, ah,” Kyong cleared his throat. “‘Summit for the Discussion on the Role and Purpose of Religion Within ADVENT’. That is for January 5th.”

“Expected turnout?”

“All-inclusive,” Kyong said. “For better or worse, you and Chief Stein are going to be facing a full crowd. We have the Pope, the last Islamic Grand Imam still practicing, the Dalai Lama, many representatives of Hinduism, and of course, at least one representative from every major Christian denomination, as well as Jewish.”

“Most likely at least forty to fifty,” Hassan clarified. “Possibly more. Not to mention the media and crowds. This is, understandably, something that people are interested in.”

“I imagine Stein is not looking forward to it?” Kyong smirked. “A full day of questions did not sound like something she was thrilled about.”

“Stein finds religion about as useful as I do,” Saudia sighed. “An unneeded institution that offers nothing practical to the world. At the same time, it _is_ heavily woven into modern life even today. We can’t just ignore it. So we have to at least try and reduce it without removing it entirely.”

“The majority of the world _is_ still religious in some way,” Hassan reminded her. “It is falling, but it won’t disappear overnight. The influence of religion can be reduced, while still being fair to those who practice it.”

“And that I do not care about,” Saudia said. “They are welcome to continue as they were. I do have an issue with those who deliberately spread misinformation or interfere where they don’t belong. The limits are drawn now, and I imagine some are furious. Especially from America.”

“That is putting it mildly,” Kyong noted wryly. “However, the outrage has been rather muted in light of the alien threat. People simply have more to worry about than us clamping down on exploitative churches.”

“Unfortunate we can’t shut down Scientology again,” Hassan chuckled.

All of them laughed at that. Saudia did remember that day had been good. Nothing quite like smashing a cult to start her day. One of the rare times the interests of ADVENT and Quisilia were aligned. He’d of course offered help, and they had politely turned him down.

“Then I suppose the schedule is set,” Saudia nodded. “Thanks for the report, dismissed.”

Both of them saluted, and left the room.

***

_Barracks, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/27/2016 – 8:12 A.M._

“It wouldn’t be right if you left without saying hello to some people,” the Commander said to Nartha as they walked through the Praesidium. “And I do have a surprise for you too.”

Nartha was impressed with the new base of operations. Taking the original Sectoid Hive and repurposing it was, in retrospect, something he should have totally expected. It had everything the Commander would need, was larger, and incorporating alien tech was far easier. The news that Patricia had been taken was disturbing, as was what had been shared about the Imperator.

He’d thought the _Battlemaster_ was dangerous. Compared to other Ethereals he seemed a much smaller threat. The good news was that XCOM and ADVENT were continuing to expand, and he now had actual, tangible data and messages he could take to the Nulorian, and any other allies he happened to make along the way.

“A surprise?” He didn’t really know what could surprise him here that was more than an Ethereal, what XCOM had been developing, or the entire situation with the Sovereign Ones. “We just passed the barracks?”

“You can go back there,” the Commander said, glancing down. “You have plenty of time before Fiona takes you back to the Collective. What’s interesting is that we found one of the defectors that knows you. It would be a shame if you didn’t meet.”

Nartha frowned. Had more Zararch agents defected, because outside his family he hadn’t had many acquaintances beyond the Zararch. That, while not unprecedented (Clearly) was not something he had honestly expected. The other aliens in the area were all Vitakara, mostly Vitakarians, which he wasn’t surprised at.

“Ah,” the Commander said with a smile. “There she is.”

He pointed at a Vitakarian woman leaning against the wall, presumably waiting for him.

Wait. No.

That was his _sister._

“Cairu…” he said in disbelief.

His voice caught her attention and she looked over to the source, and blinked rapidly several times when she saw him, clearly in just as much shock as he was. “ _Nartha?”_

“I’ll let you get caught up,” the Commander said helpfully, and backed out, clearly pleased with himself.

Brother and sister stood apart, each not sure what to say. “I…” Nartha started, voice halting and starting, still not fully processing everything. “…was not expecting you here.”

“I can safely say the feeling is mutual,” Cairu answered, shaking her head and laughing. “Were you on their side the entire time? When you were back home?”

“At that point, yes,” Nartha admitted. “I have been for some time.”

“No wonder you talked highly of the Humans,” she recalled. “I can’t believe I didn’t pick up something was off.”

“I’m a spy,” Nartha reminded her. “And even I can resist questions from my sister.”

“Still,” she shook her head again as he walked over by her. “How did you…well…how did it happen? You were always the rule-follower.”

“My mission was to infiltrate XCOM, gather information,” he gestured around him. “And…it was gradual. I made some friends here. Learned things about the Collective, and did begin to wonder…” he sighed. “Our species is not free. Everything on Vitakar is an illusion designed by the Ethereals, something I’d repressed since there wasn’t anything I could do about it. But what the Humans were doing, resisting a power far greater than their own and enduring?”

He looked to her. “I wondered just how hopeless it would be to at least try and force change. The Ethereals will not release us, nor any of the others under their control. This isn’t right, and this war with the Humans is unjustified and petty. The Commander…the leader of XCOM…he’s someone who I think can actually do this. I suspect ADVENT was formed in some way by him, and with an Ethereal on his side?”

Nartha crossed his arms as Cairu appraised him. “The Collective cannot endure this. Not forever. The Ethereals made a mistake here. They are not infallible or invincible. There is fragility in the Collective, between the Andromedon Unions, between the Federation and Hive Commanders, even between other Ethereals. Our own people are losing faith in the Ethereals. It is slow, but I think that now there are those who are seeing the Ethereals for the false power they were.” His voice turned dark. “Apathetic gods who believe their psionics gives them authority.”

Cairu was silent for a few moments. “I didn’t know you were that idealistic. That’s what _I’m_ supposed to be.” Her lips pursed. “And naïve. I’ve talked to some of the others since coming here…it’s been, as Humans would say, ‘eye-opening’. I never realized just how little…freedom…we had on Vitakar.”

“I wouldn’t punish yourself for that,” Nartha said. “The Zararch didn’t spare any expense when designing the perfect illusion.”

“I was there when Aegis appeared,” she said, her voice small. “I didn’t know what to think about that. And then he started attacking and I knew that if something wasn’t done I’d die. The Elders had been…always unified. I didn’t know this _was_ possible. But I didn’t want to die if we’d been lied to this whole time,” she shrugged. “So I surrendered.”

“Because you didn’t want to die?”

“One reason,” she shuddered. “And because…I’d been thinking about it already. This wasn’t anything like I’d imagined it would be. Fighting Humans is…nightmarish. The ground always shakes, it’s loud, and…bloody. I was on the initial attack on Korea as well. No one else in my group lived. They were either blown up, shot, or died from blood loss.”

Nartha vaguely remembered writing up a report on Vitakarians where he’d specifically mentioned how they weren’t cut out for fighting unless modified. He wished he didn’t have to see that be verified in his sister who was understandably shaken. “War isn’t pretty or fun,” he said. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

“I’m better now,” she said. “Or at least getting there. The Humans are interested in seeing how they can help.” She glanced down the hallway. “I doubt it’s all altruistic. They just want data, but at least they try. I don’t know what I’ll do here. I think the Commander is considering letting some aliens fight, but I don’t know if I want that.”

She shrugged. “But then again, that’s all I know.”

“Well,” he said. “Don’t make a decision yet. Get better first. And there’s nothing wrong with learning something different. Not everyone is cut out to be a fighter.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “I do feel rather pathetic for a soldier. Humans don’t seem to have that problem from what I’ve seen.”

Nartha chuckled. “Sister, you’re surrounded by the most dangerous and well-trained Humans on the planet. Trust me, there are a lot of Humans who aren’t soldiers, and I’m _sure_ that even a good number of soldiers would not survive what you did.”

“I did manage to survive the insane sniper,” she noted. “That is something.”

“What?”

“I’m still not sure,” she frowned. “XCOM said that it’s a Chosen, a unit of an Ethereal called the Creator. The Hunter. He started shooting both sides when the fight happened. He stopped, so I hope ADVENT managed to kill him. Although according to them, the Chosen are seemingly immortal.”

He would have to look into that a bit more. Chosen. Probably wouldn’t be too hard to find out. “You have people you want to meet?” She asked suddenly.

“Just one, mostly,” Nartha said. “The others I knew either died or are gone. I’m not sure they all forgave me for lying to them.”

“Oh, who is it then?” She asked.

“Shun Anwei,” he said. “Have you met her?”

“I recognize the name,” she said, though shook her head. “But just heard in passing. Sadly haven’t met her. Though if you were her friend, perhaps I should.”

“She was…pleasant to talk to,” he said. “Her own people are not always accepted within here, so she appreciated someone who listened. I believe that was why she took the…revelation better than most.”

“Hmm,” Cairu gave him a curious look. “Well, go say hello to her. I’ll be here, just come back before you leave, since I assume you’re not staying.”

“Unfortunately not this time,” Nartha said. “But hopefully I’ll have other opportunities to come back.”

“In any case,” she said walking over to him and pulling him into a hug. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“You too,” he said. “And please try and stay that way.”

She snorted. “If anyone should be told that, it’s you.”

On that point, he couldn’t disagree.

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/27/2016 – 9:09 A.M._

The arrival of the Chronicler and their new…alliance…with T’Leth and his people had certainly opened up a host of new options, and many of them outside of Earth. They were still going to be limited, but it was far more than they had previously. Of course, the details needed to be hammered out, which was why the Chronicler and Zhang were in the same room with him.

“I would still advise that the number of agents in the Collective be limited,” the Chronicler was saying. “Humans are _not_ widespread, and they will be noticed.”

“The difficult part will be getting them on Collective worlds in the first place,” the Commander said. “Once on them, we can establish Gateways or other means of self-sufficiency.”

“I would suggest we use them to establish a direct connection to allies,” Zhang interjected. “The Nulorian are a way into Vitakar, and if we establish a Gateway in their territory, we could supply them with soldiers and equipment, and they could assist on operations on Earth if they wished.”

“I like that idea,” the Commander nodded. “With that said, I also think it would be a good idea to establish a working base on a world in Collective space. An uninhabited one, where they wouldn’t think to look.”

“It will take some time to find a suitable one,” the Chronicler said, looking down at the blank holotable. “In the meantime, I still don’t have a full map of Collective space. I didn’t want to attempt direct operations until I’d spoken to you. However I would suggest that Gateways be established on Desolan and Vitakar, minimum.”

“And you can do this?” Zhang asked.

“We can transport the materials and personnel,” the Chronicler confirmed. “Fiona will likely handle that. She’s more…adept at teleportation than I am, despite her reservations.”

“Then I’ll need to put together a group of soldiers and agents,” the Commander nodded. “When we first meet the Nulorian, I’ll go in person. I suspect they would respect that more.”

“If you insist,” the Chronicler sighed. “I have reservations of allying too closely with the Nulorian. They are not normal or stable Vitakara, nor do I think their goals are the same as ours. The few interactions I have had show that they are….radical. Willing to commit atrocities against their own people as Miridian dictates it.”

“We need radical right now,” the Commander shrugged. “And we don’t have any allies elsewhere in the Collective. I think talking with Miridian will make things clearer.”

“Most certainly,” Zhang agreed. “Now for Earth. Will you and your…people…participate in the war?”

“I assume you mean in combat,” the Chronicler said. “Not regularly, if at all. In retrospect, our…open operations in Australia were a mistake. The Imperator knows there is a Sovereign One in the vicinity, where before he had only suspicions. If he _knows_ one is working directly with you, it might trigger the endgame immediately.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “So why risk it to begin with?”

The Chronicler’s eyes became distant. “Two reasons. The first was that I had limited direction from T’Leth who was still…in a fugue. I had been conducting operations on my own for years, and hadn’t received orders to stop, even though he could have. The second is that I am still Human, Commander. I didn’t want to watch these aliens invade our world and do nothing.”

“But you’ll be taking a more subtle approach now,” the Commander finished.

“That is the plan,” the Chronicler said, nodding. “There is a way to stop the Imperator from controlling your world, but it is not the right time to enact it. Using the orbs we can block off certain points from his control, but too much of the world going dark…it will attract his attention.”

“So no protection of Saudia or ADVENT?” Zhang asked.

“That is not advisable,” the Chronicler agreed. “Those are high-profile areas and figures. The Manchurian Restraints will already be enough, and I also do not think ADVENT should be informed until Earth is under our control. Or even the Solar System.”

The Commander thought for a moment. “You know Project Atlantis?”

The Chronicler shook his head. “No, though I can make a guess.”

“Underwater facilities,” the Commander clarified. “Factories and ship construction. A means of building a fleet in secret. Could those be protected?”

“Underwater…” the Chronicler mused thoughtfully. “Clever. Yes, I believe so. The ocean being dark would not likely arouse suspicion. Though this will take significant time to develop, even if ADVENT puts resources towards it.”

“Definitely,” the Commander agreed. “But it’s already started, and Gateways are how they’ll transport the materials in secret.”

“Speaking of Gateways,” Zhang coughed. “If possible, we would also appreciate understanding how to modify the size of them. Larger ones can allow for more or larger reinforcements, and when we reach the stage of space, they will be necessary for transportation.”

“I will have one of my people speak to your science and engineering teams,” the Chronicler said with a wave. “The Gateways were supposed to be extremely difficult to modify. It took T’Leth a…good deal of time to reverse-engineer them, even for him.”

“So he didn’t design them,” the Commander noted. “Interesting.”

“Of course not,” the Chronicler snorted. “He prefers equipment more like this.” He tapped his chest on the stony armor. “And our weapons, of course. Although ours are rather pitiful compared to what he can create.”

“I don’t suppose he’d share some of it with us?” The Commander asked.

“I can share the schematics,” the Chronicler said. “Although you are unlikely to be able to build them. It requires…specialized equipment and materials that aren’t on this world. And there is a certain level of comprehension needed to even construct them. It would be a mistake to think that the science behind Gateways is even remotely similar to that behind what T’Leth creates.”

“Wonderful,” the Commander rubbed his forehead. “If it’s that hard, how do you have enough to give Agent Gertrude one?”

“Because I had an extra one,” he shrugged. “And it was a gesture of goodwill. I believed that you would likely find it interesting. Perhaps you could use it in your own projects. But in general such technology is only for those who work directly with T’Leth. You would not be able to mass produce them.” He also cast a side glance at the Commander. “And knowing you, I suspect you would attempt to improve even the weapon of a Sovereign. In general you seem to have a preference for forging your own path based on the tools you find.”

The Commander smiled at that. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was one,” the Chronicler said. “With that said, I have looked over your projects. Most are good, though for once I agree the Ethereal has a point regarding your proposed AI. That could backfire, and T’Leth and most Sovereign Ones avoid the development of such because it could potentially become a threat to them. Something outside their control that can’t be controlled or influenced easily.”

Zhang looked mildly amused. “Is that supposed to be a warning, or an incentive?”

The Chronicler furrowed his eyebrows. “A warning. If a Sovereign One has hesitations, _you_ certainly should.”

The Commander was fairly sure that he and Zhang were thinking the same thing. Yes, and AI was risky, but that even Sovereign Ones disliked the idea actually made it more appealing. Not as something to threaten them with, but as a…insurance policy of sorts, should that become necessary. It appeared an AI would serve multiple purposes.

Assuming it did what they wanted.

“Well, we’ll continue with it for now,” the Commander said. “We’re taking appropriate precautions. None of us want a rampant AI.”

“Our species has never developed something like this,” the Chronicler said. “There are likely things we won’t think about until it is too late. But this project is up to you.”

“It is,” the Commander said firmly. “Will you be remaining here for now?”

“I’ll return Nartha, and then I will return soon after,” the Chronicler said. “Then we can begin establishing Gateways on the designated worlds.”

“That sounds good,” the Commander nodded. “Zhang, put together a list of agents. I’ll have Shen have teams of engineers for the Gateway construction ready, as well as some of my own soldiers.”

“Yes, Commander.”

***

_Shooting Range, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_12/27/2016 – 11:11 A.M._

Shun looked different to him, and initially he couldn’t place what it was. She was still wearing the standard XCOM fatigues, same haircut and color, and this specific recollection was probably not something he should be doing. Oh well, he couldn’t help if he had a sometimes oddly specific, but accurate memory.

He did wonder if she would recognize him, especially since the last time she had seen him, he’d looked like a Human. He had to admit, he was somewhat nervous about her reaction. Hopefully it wouldn’t take her too long. There were only a few at the shooting range, and he’d walked into it just as she was finishing up.

A good thing one of the soldiers had been kind enough to point him this direction.

She then caught sight of him as he’d walked in, frowned, and appraised him for a few moments before her face morphed into surprise. She carefully set her weapon aside and walked up to him, while everyone else continued shooting. “Nartha…” she began tentatively. “Is that you?”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Oh good, I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me.”

She laughed and pulled into an embrace which felt very warm. “I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?”

He let her go, and contemplated what to say. “Well…I was getting ready to go to sleep, and a strange Human appeared and requested I come back to XCOM to give everyone an update. So I was teleported by another nervous Human woman, appeared in the Commander’s Office. We caught up for a while, and he surprised me by bringing me to meet my sister.”

He paused. “It’s certainly been an interesting day to say the least. But I wanted to at least say hello before I had to leave.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said. “I would have been furious if you’d been here and not said hello.”

For better or worse, he was getting more accustomed to Human facial mannerisms. A smirk was almost natural now. “And just why would I do that? You were probably the only one here who didn’t want me dead.”

“I think most of us have gotten over that,” Shun noted, nodding around her. “The amount of aliens here is a bit high for the so-called Extraterrestrial Combat Unit.” She grew a bit more contemplative. “I’d wondered what you actually looked like, and I don’t think I was _too_ far off. It helped that we actually had some Vitakarians here.”

“Not a disappointment, I hope,” he paused. “Although I do differ from Humans in some-“

“No, I definitely think your eyes are better,” she chuckled. “We can’t really compete with glowing blue ones.”

“Speaking of which,” he noted, looking into her own ones which now had golden rims. “Yours look different.”

“Ah, that would be the gene mods,” she turned up her arm and raised it higher. “Better eyesight, better regeneration, and I can jump off a building and live. Not too bad, I think.” Nartha could see that her skin did seem…not so much _lighter_ as it was mildly translucent at times, when the light hit it a certain way.

“Good for you,” he said. “I’m glad you’re still alive. With how many on both sides had died, I’d wondered if you were one of the casualties.”

She snorted in surprise. “I’m of the opinion that XCOM is one of the safest places to be in this war. And it _definitely_ doesn’t compare to working as a _double agent_ in a Collective run by aliens who like reading minds for fun. If anyone was going to die, it would be you.” She suddenly paused, eyes widening. “Don’t take that the wrong way! I’m very happy you’re still alive.”

He laughed. “So am I. It hasn’t really been easy.”

She gave a brief nod. “I’d like to say I’d agree with it ‘not being easy’, but I don’t think I genuinely could. I can’t really imagine doing that. Working surrounded by enemies and without any help.”

“The isolation is definitely one of the least enjoyable parts,” he agreed. “The ones you want to help are suspicious for obvious reasons, and everyone else would kill me if they learned what I was doing. Having someone on the same side would have at least made that easier.”

“Someone to talk to then?” She inquired. “I can understand that.”

“I’m thinking that might change now,” Nartha said, perking up. “I’m sure the Commander will want to use the Chronicler and his people to move us into the Collective.” He hesitated. “Maybe you could come along?”

“Well,” she pretended to consider. “I _did_ have some espionage experience before I was moved to XCOM. Although you might want to suggest that to the Commander. Also, who is the Chronicler?”

Oh, right. He looked to the wall where there was a bench. “Let’s sit down. Catch up properly. I’ve got time before I have to go.”

“Good idea,” she said. “And I need to ask about this sister. I didn’t even know you had one.”

“Yes, I suppose I didn’t mention that.” He remembered, sadly recalling that their time post-reveal had mostly been coming to terms with it and sharing a little bit of information about his species. At least now there was more time for more mundane stuff, like related family members.

It was a welcome change. If the Commander _did_ send more soldiers back with him, hopefully Shun would be among them.

***

_Manitoba ADVENT Command, Winnipeg – Canada_

_12/30/2016 – 12:13 P.M._

When he’d been officially recalled to Winnipeg, Neil Harrison had been expecting the worst. There were only two possibilities he could think of, the first was that he would be moved to one of the ADVENT Special Forces units, possibly the Lancers or Hussars. Given his background, neither would be surprising. The other option was him just being deployed to the front lines in the trenches.

Now while he was happy to do his part in the fight, getting sent to the trenches, even as an officer, would have been a waste of his skills, and while getting sent to a special forces unit would have been _better_ , neither of those were exactly suited for him. He honestly would have preferred to just stay where he was, or previously been with much of the Canadian military still in limbo after being integrated into ADVENT.

ADVENT had essentially shipped over a lot of armor and weapons, and had the military just equip that and keep their positions until further notice. Now they were actually looking to integrate them more fully. Which unfortunately meant that Canadian special forces was one of the first targets.

With that said, it seemed very clear now that what Commander Christiaens had planned was not what he expected.

ADVENT Command here was impressively developed. The situation room they were in was filled with screens, computers, and a kind of holoprojector from the ceiling. Most of the people in the room were busy on other things, but the ones who mattered were himself, a bearded man he’d never met before, a dark-skinned woman dressed in the similarly black uniform of ADVENT Intelligence, an Asian man who was apparently some high-ranking ADVENT Engineer, and of course the Commander of the ADVENT Military Forces herself.

Neil had never heard of Laura Christiaens before ADVENT. Well, not exactly, he _had_ heard her name before. An important NATO figure, but that was it. Since then, he’d done some more research and was beginning to see why she had likely been selected out of others, who he frankly felt were far better military tacticians.

ADVENT was not an ordinary military, it was comprised of soldiers from all across the world, and making sure everyone got along and everything was handled effectively was a much bigger task. All potential criticisms of NATO aside, it was the closest thing to ADVENT that had previously existed. It made sense that the former Chairman (or woman in this case) would be given the task of something close to the same thing, only on a much grander scale.

If nothing else, she did seem to listen to those under her and push for greater military strength and technology. Always a plus.

“Everyone is here then,” Laura looked to the Asian man. “We can begin. I assume all of you know who I am. This is Feng Mercado, Chief of ADVENT Engineering and Development.”

The man gave a small nod. Neil blinked. Well, that was interesting. What was someone like that doing here? It was already strange that they were speaking directly to the Commander herself, but there were a surprising number of important people here. He briefly wondered who the other two people were now.

“We can go around with introductions,” Laura said, motioning to the bearded man. “The three of you will be working closely together, so it would be good to know names.”

“Walter Blakenship,” the man said, his voice gruff and cracked as if he wasn’t used to speaking much. “ADVENT “Alaskan Advisor”, or whatever useless name they gave. No clue what I’m doing now.”

“We asked Mr. Blakenship for advice on operations in the Alaskan wilderness,” Laura said smoothly. “There are few better when it comes to cold-weather survival. I also understand that you breed, train, and use sled dogs?”

Walter huffed. “Best in the country.”

“There you go,” Laura nodded. “This will be relevant shortly.” She gestured to Neil. “And you?”

“Neil Harrison,” he answered. “Former Canadian Special Operations Regiment operative. Primarily specializing in long-term reconnaissance, survival, and independent operations.”

“A modest way of putting it,” Laura raised an eyebrow. “Operative Harrison is among the top of the entire CSOR, and has received multiple commendations for his service.”

Which meant he had a bunch of medals and stuff for just managing to live on his own and write down notes on enemy parties. Not nearly as impressive as Laura made it sound, but it would look bad to dispute her. “I did my job, Ma’am, nothing more.” He also didn’t add that he wasn’t exactly at the peak of his career either anymore. Prior to the invasion, he likely would have retired by now.

Damn aliens, messing up everything.

The woman preempted Laura asking for her to continue. “Cycelea Shaw,” she allowed a cynical smile showing her bright teeth. “Inquisitor of ADVENT Intelligence.”

Walter narrowed his eyes. “The hell is an Inquisitor?”

“Something you don’t expect,” Neil said dryly, and he could swear that Laura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Cycelea gave a genuine smile at him this time. With that said, he didn’t know much about who, exactly the Inquisitors were. He did hear the name referred to some division in ADVENT Intelligence, and the implications were both obvious but troubling if so.

“Inquisitors are psions in ADVENT Intelligence,” Cycelea explained. “Not known to the public for certain reasons. I specialize in telepathy, since you were likely wondering.”

Neil resisted a shiver. Psionics in general was odd, but as long as it was tangible he would get used to it. The purple fire and shields he’d seen from the footage was one thing, but telepathy was completely unnerving. That checked off too many boxes that made him just want to avoid anything to do with psionics.

The first time he’d seen a telepath walk into a group of aliens and with a gesture made them shoot themselves in the heads was enough to convince him that psionics would have been better off if it hadn’t been discovered. Sure, it was useful against the aliens now, but he would laugh if the aliens couldn’t do the same thing.

Walter didn’t seem to be fond of the idea either. “I don’t want to work with a spook, much less a fucking mind-reader.”

“You don’t have to worry about me doing anything like that,” Cycelea said, tapping her head. “Manchurian Restraints. Can’t use my abilities on Humans. Have a code phrase if I start acting up. I’m not a threat to anyone here.”

“Inquisitor Shaw is correct,” Laura said. “She and her colleagues will not subject you to their abilities unless specifically ordered or the action is beneficial. You will be supplied with the code phrases, Operative Harrison. Not generally protocol, but you’ll be cut off from our network for some time.”

He cocked his head. “There are more?”

“ADVENT Intelligence has allowed the deployment of three Inquisitors to assist,” Laura clarified. “Inquisitor Shaw is in charge of them. However, we should get to _why_ all of you are actually here right now.”

Feng clicked a button on his tablet, and a glowing blue map of Canada and Alaska appeared. “The three of you are the core leadership of what we are calling Operation: Long Dark,” Laura began. “In short, this involves slowing or stopping the continued alien incursion into Alaska and Canada. Much of it is more rural, and isn’t especially fortified. Despite the major attacks ceasing, the aliens are continuing to advance and take over the small towns and cities.” She looked each of them in the eye. “You will stop this.”

“The three of us?” Walter asked skeptically.

“No,” Laura shook her head. “You will have a team of operatives working with you. There will not be many, but all of them – as well as yourselves – will have an advantage. The aliens do not know this world, much less how to survive it. Winters here are harsh and unforgiving, but fortunately, most of you have experience thriving in these kinds of conditions. You will use this to defeat, hamstring, sabotage, or otherwise trap the aliens here.”

She looked to Neil. “Mr. Harrison, you will be officially in charge of this operation. Once we are done, you will approve who you want to accompany you. This is a guerilla campaign, and one best suited to your skills. You will have full control over how it is waged, but your objectives will be immutable: Push the aliens back, rescue or liberate civilians, and recover any ADVENT personnel you find or learn about.”

Now _this_ was something he could do. “Yes, Commander.”

“What can we do with the civilians?” Cycelea asked. “Most will not be able to survive in the wilderness as well as we will.”

“You will have some means of contacting us,” Laura said. “You will have equipment that will be able to transmit your location and if you need civilian extraction, the numbers can be adjusted. If you manage to liberate a city or town, we will attempt to send soldiers to secure the area and fortify it against future attacks.”

“And why isn’t this being done already?” Walter asked.

“It _is_ ,” Laura said coldly, turning his gaze to the man. “However, it is being done slowly because much of rural Canada and Alaska is isolated, unconnected, and any forces we send are susceptible to ambushes. Not to mention this is one area where the aliens have established airbases and have a larger air presence. We don’t want to risk provoking another fight until we’re ready, and the brutal truth is that the rural areas are not as important as the cities. They are not worth waging a war at this point.” She paused. “That is not to say they don’t have worth, but in the scope of the world it’s a necessary decision. But we are not doing _nothing_ , as that is why all of you are here.”

Walter huffed, but didn’t say anything. Neil had some more practical questions. “So what is our equipment, weaponry, and transportation?” He asked. “Conventional travel won’t be possible with what I’m thinking.”

“Transportation will be covered with Walter,” Laura gestured to him. “Sled dogs for faster transportation and supplies. There will be some Molosser Handlers who are available, if you want the hounds in your arsenal. Additional supplies will arrive at scheduled dead drops which will include components, ammunition, and medical supplies. It will be a significant amount, we have no intention of abandoning you. With that said, you will largely be on your own without contact from us.”

“Your weaponry will be what you choose,” Feng interjected for the first time. “Gauss, laser, or even conventional. The same applies for explosives and similar equipment. However, we have worked on developing armor for the exact conditions you’ll be in.”

Another press on his tablet and the holographic map was replaced with a new suit of ADVENT armor. This was distinct in several ways, namely how it was not bulky like most ADVENT armor, and if anything seemed to have very little actual armor. The entire suit seemed to be covered in some smooth fabric, although there were some areas that clearly indicated armor under the fabric.

The helmet was similarly thinner and seemed to be attached to the fabric at the neck, and had a standard white facemask without any strange shapes or complexity. “This has been referred to as Snowtrooper armor,” Feng continued. “Designed for operation in cold weather, contains internal and external temperature monitoring and heading, invisible to infrared, not reflective, and can be camouflaged at the desire of the owner.”

Mercado looked rather proud of it. “In short, it is perfect for your own operation here. The aliens will not be able to detect you. The suit is completely sealed, with an additional thin aerogel over it, and filtered, which means no heat will escape. Chemical or gas attacks will fail, as well as smoke.”

That all sounded great, although he was concerned about one thing. “The suit sounds like it will take up energy. We might not be able to replenish it fast enough.”

“The suit has two modes of being powered,” Feng continued. “An elerium core which will last up to two weeks of constant use. Each suit has two. It can also be powered by more conventional batteries. We have also developed a manual recharge device which is capable of recharging both elerium cores and conventional batteries. You will receive additional elerium cores if they become damaged.”

“Nice,” Cycelea nodded, eyes glinting as she looked over the glowing hologram.

“Indeed,” Feng nodded. “We have also designed it to integrate with a prototype trench coat, currently designed to be immune to acid, but at the moment will also act as another means of insulation. It is stab-proof, and has some limited protection against light plasma.” He pressed another button and the Snowtrooper was wearing a trench coat, with the option for a hood. It did look pretty neat, Neil had to admit.

“We’re planning for your team to be the first field test,” Laura said. “It’s done exceptionally well in controlled environments, but it needs to be properly used. Your team is ideal because if it doesn’t work, you will be able to survive on your own.”

“That sounds good,” Neil nodded. “So will I be reporting to you?”

“Reports will be due every month,” Laura said. “They will go to ADVENT Command, but I will likely be reading them. We expect them to be thorough, and will be transferred via the dead drop. Do all of you understand?”

The other two nodded, and Neil joined in. “I believe so, Commander.”

“Then you may begin as you see fit,” Laura said. “You will deploy in three days. Pick your team. Your starting location I will leave up to you, as well as the operation itself. Do not fail, Commando Harrison.”

He saluted. “No, Commander. I will not.”

***

_ADVENT Recruitment Center 0821, Atlanta – Georgia, United States of America_

_1/2/2016 – 3:22 P.M._

The questionnaire that he had been given was interesting, and not entirely what he expected. It was split into what he saw as three different sections. The first seemed to be gathering his views on law and justice, the second part covered morality and consequence, and the last portion was a host of random scenarios which didn’t have obvious answers.

This seemed like an unnecessarily long morality test, which was odd to see from ADVENT. The good news was that he was definitely confirmed to have psionic potential, rather highly too judging from the reaction of the nurse who’d run the test through an odd-looking contraption which he assumed took brain scans.

There was no time limit on the test, but the room he was in seemed designed to be as unnerving as possible. It felt like a glass cage, with every wall being a one-way mirror which he knew people were watching from the outside. He had, admittedly, taken his time on this. It did make him wonder if ADVENT was actually serious on having psions fit certain psychological profiles.

If so, he was somewhat concerned.

Finished, he stood and knocked on the door. It opened and a man in an ADVENT uniform walked in. He was roughly six feet, dark-skinned, and with an amused glint in his eyes. Ivan wished there was a way to easily identify what rank they were, because the only identifying mark on his uniform was the ADVENT PRIEST Division emblem.

He was also unarmed. “Done already?” He asked.

“Yes,” Ivan said, handing the sheet to him. “Complete.”

“Good, good.” Instead of leaving, the man went to the wall and grabbed another chair and placed it opposite the one Ivan had been sitting in. “Take a seat, Mr. Smirnov.”

So they were going to do the interview here? “Alright.”

He waited for a few minutes as the man read his answers. Ivan would not have been surprised if the man was a psion himself, or there was another one close by. He also noticed that the man had a communication device in his ear, and had another beige file on the table. Probably the one on Ivan himself.

“Your answers are different than what I’m used to,” the man finally said, setting them down and appraising him.

“In a good or bad way, Mr.…?”

“Daniels,” he supplied. “And I believe we should see. Inconclusive is what I find. Most people fall heavily one way or another. You fall into the middle of two opposites.” He nodded to the paper. “What is your impression of what you just completed?”

“A means of weeding out candidates who don’t fit a specific criteria.” He said.

“A good answer,” Daniels said. “However, not the correct one. This,” he rested a hand on the paper. “Gives me perspective on the candidate itself. No one can be disqualified from this. What they say and do afterward determines that.”

So more akin to a crude psychological profile. And combined with the file they no doubt had on him, meant they could likely establish a fairly accurate read on him. Which meant that this man was likely at minimum a psychologist or interrogator. Someone who knew how to read and react to people. He did not especially like coming to that conclusion.

“You want to use ADVENT as a means to an end,” Daniels began. “Is this correct or not?”

Ivan believed it would likely be a bad idea to lie to the man. “A cold way of putting it, but yes. Considering my own workforce has been so helpfully destroyed by ADVENT, I need to acquire a more usable skill. And with the direction the world is heading, having worked with ADVENT will be a useful anecdote.”

“I see,” Daniels said. “Practical, even if selfish.”

“I’m making the best of a bad situation,” Ivan stated. “Forgive me if I don’t buy into the grand vision of ADVENT. They are the reason I am here now.”

“And yet you still would come to us,” he refuted calmly. “Law as a field hasn’t died. I’m certain you can find work elsewhere.”

“In a year, the world might not exist,” Ivan shot back. “And contrary to what you think, not all law fields are the same. I can’t just _apply_ somewhere else. It’s not a fucking computer science degree, and I’m well above the menial intern work. So I’d rather actually try and set myself up for the future, assuming the war is won.”

Daniels nodded. “So this is about you.”

“Is that a problem?”

Daniels didn’t answer, but glanced back down at the paper. “What do you know about the PRIEST Division?”

“That you’re psions. You fight aliens and have abilities,” Ivan shrugged. “And you put bombs in their heads to keep them in line. Can’t say I’d be thrilled with that, but I assume you only blow them up if they become a problem.”

“That is a very basic description,” Daniels said. “And if you _weren’t_ psionic, was there a backup plan?”

“Likely something in ADVENT’s law division,” Ivan shrugged. “I’m aware of the irony.”

“I see,” Daniels focused on Ivan intently. “And why choose the PRIEST Division first?”

“If I have the capability to use psionics,” Ivan answered slowly. “I want that. It would be a suitable repayment for ADVENT destroying my previous career.” Ivan took a breath and calmed down. “I’m not a fan of ADVENT, but I can promise that I won’t cause problems. I’ll follow orders and so on, though I will leave once my time is up and not look back.”

Daniels gave a single nod. “And you say you want to…use your abilities afterwards. I fail to see how that would benefit your chosen field.”

“Telepathy, even emotion sensing, would be useful,” Ivan gave a grim smile. “You have no idea how good it would be to know if the scum I deal with from all sides are lying to my face or not. I’m only interested in justice here, Mr. Daniels, for all parties.”

“Justice can be subjective, Mr. Smirnov,” Daniels pointed out. “The Law is what is important.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do,” Daniels said. “You _are_ aware that the PRIEST Division is not one you can exactly walk away from?”

“I would hope not,” Ivan said slowly. “I don’t see how you can keep control of someone indefinitely. That can’t be legal.”

“ADVENT has to be careful with psions,” Daniels gave an apologetic shrug. “We can’t risk them being set loose into the general population. Too many would descend into vigilante justice, exploit their powers in their workplace, as you so helpfully illustrated, or simply settle old scores. That is not to say they are treated badly, but psions won’t enjoy the same freedoms you have now.”

He tapped his head. “You don’t just get a neural bomb, you also have the Manchurian Restraints. A type of mental conditioning which ensures you don’t pose a threat to ADVENT or it’s citizens.”

Ivan was mildly shocked. “How can that possibly be legal? Taking away someone’s free will, what is the line then?”

“It’s perfectly legal, and supported by all areas of ADVENT,” Daniels explained. “Psionics, Mr. Smirnov, isn’t a toy. It’s not a weapon. It is a _tool_ , one which the wielder needs to be careful of using. It should be used for the protection and improvement of mankind, _not_ to be used selfishly or as a crutch. It is a last resort, not the first.”

He sighed. “Based on your responses, both in this discussion, and on the questionnaire, I do not believe you are fit for the PRIEST Division. Now-“

“What?!” Ivan demanded furiously. “I _know_ how valuable psions are to ADVENT. You can’t just refuse me just because you don’t like me. How can you _say_ I’m capable of psionics, but not actually make me a psion?”

“Psions are valuable,” Daniels agreed. “But we want responsible ones. We will find more, and the ones who match the goals and values of ADVENT. You do not fit this, and giving you power is a risk I am not willing to sign off on.”

“I _know_ I’m a powerful psion,” Ivan insisted. “I saw how the nurse reacted. Can you _really_ afford to reject me?”

“All the more reason to,” Daniels nodded. “I would quote you a line about power and responsibility, but I suspect you wouldn’t grasp the implication. Now, if you wish to still work in ADVENT’s legal division-“

“Forget it,” Ivan stormed up and to the door. “I’m not interested in working for people like you.”

Daniels might have said something, but Ivan didn’t hear it as he walked furiously out of the room and through the hallway until he reached the lobby. Slamming the door open, he stepped aimlessly onto the sidewalk and began walking.

He had no idea what he was going to do now.

***

_Kensington Palace, London – Britain_

_1/2/2017 – 8:12 A.M._

Another year come and gone. Saudia had never really felt the need to celebrate such, and yet in light of the alien invasion, there were still those who celebrated. There were the usual public events and such, though they took a markedly different feel when there were ADVENT soldiers at multiple checkpoints, Priests inserted into the crowd, and visible (as well as hidden) snipers on the roofs and vantage points.

Yet for some reason, millions of people tuned in to watch a giant ball drop. Riveting.

Next year maybe ADVENT would have a proper New Years event.

But a new year, same work.

She had dressed in notably civilian clothes today, since Prince Mason had suggested such, as she definitely didn’t want the media to get wind of this. Questions about why the Chancellor of ADVENT was meeting the Duke of Cambridge would look suspicious, especially in light of the upcoming referendum. Luckily the good Prince had made the arrangements for a quiet pickup with a driver he trusted, which had taken her straight to Kensington Palace itself, well out of the normal public entryway.

Ethan hadn’t been supportive of her going alone, but she knew that she was perfectly safe. While she hadn’t specifically authorized it, she was quite certain that ADVENT Intelligence would be keeping an eye on any potential threats, and under her clothing was armor that would stop small arms for a short while.

She was capable of defending herself. More importantly, she saw no reason why the Prince would invite her just to kill or capture her. From the dossier on him, that would be idiotic, which was highly out of character.

She was immediately met with two well-dressed guards, as well as a figure she assumed to be some kind of butler or greeter. “Chancellor Saudia Vyandar,” he said, his voice cultured and slightly dismissive. “Welcome. His Highness will see you now. Follow all instructions.”

“Of course,” she said as they walked, glad that the man hadn’t given some long-winded greeting. All of them were content to walk in silence as they made their way through the palace. As expected, it was lavishly decorated and furnished, with every centimeter impeccably clean and orderly. There were some housecleaners in the background, but none of them looked their way.

Saudia idly wondered just how many guards were following them, no doubt concerned about her. For once, she felt that the number of eyes on her was probably _not_ for her protection. They walked up some stairs, and a few more turns later they arrived in front of double doors which the man opened grandly.

Inside was the expected lavish dining room, complete with ornate carpet, glossy wooden tables, a full meal and silverware laid on the table, and tall windows illuminating the room with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was impressive, but she’d lost her ability to be impressed at gross displays of wealth a long time ago.

“His Highness Prince Mason, the Duke of Cambridge,” the man announced. The man who was sitting at the end of the table stood and gave a greeting smile.

“Chancellor,” he said with an extended hand. “Welcome to the Kensington Palace.” He nodded to the man. “You are dismissed. Ensure no one disturbs us.”

With a nod the man left and shut the doors behind him. Saudia appraised the man before her. He was dressed in a simple suit, hair and beard precisely trimmed, and skin still tanned. He was still rather young, only thirty-five, and it showed. And while she couldn’t tell from looking at him, he was still fit according to his dossier.

He was still shorter than her though. Then again, most were.

“Help yourself to breakfast if you wish,” Prince Mason said, gesturing to the food. “And you may take a seat. I didn’t know if you’d be hungry, but always best to prepare. At the very minimum it will improve the aroma.”

She _was_ somewhat hungry, and the food looked good. “Your hospitality is appreciated,” she said, taking a seat at the end of the table.

Mason returned to the end to the table and took his seat, which had a similar platter of food before him. There was also a noticeably large file sitting beside it. “It’s the least I can do here,” he said as she began eating. “The Chancellor of ADVENT should receive nothing less. I admit, I didn’t know if you would even see my request, much less come to me.”

“I will echo the sentiment,” she said. “I was not expecting any contact from the Royal Family. You can say I am here out of a certain curiosity. You in particular would not ask to meet without reason.”

“Yes, I’m certain you know quite a bit about me,” he smiled without goodwill. “But you, Chancellor, are something of a mystery. No background, no public record, nothing. It took MI6 several months to connect you to a small mining company in Nigeria, which was _also_ interestingly not listed on any registries and has exceptionally heavy security for such a small family business.”

Saudia returned the smile and sipped her water. “Not all of us come from the expected, Duke Mason. And if MI6 wanted information, well, they could have asked. But I suspect they learned little more than that, am I right?”

“That, I’m afraid, is classified,” he said, the smile maintained. “But as far as I am concerned, you past, or lack thereof, is irrelevant. You are the Chancellor of ADVENT, and that is not going to change. You seem to be a fair woman, a good leader, and can make the decisions necessary for one in your position. Good qualities.”

“Flattering,” she said neutrally. “I do my best.”

“I actually believe you,” he nodded. “Or you at least try, which is more than I can say for many politicians.”

“I don’t consider myself a politician.”

“Oh, I agree,” Mason took a sip of his tea. “However, I believe we should begin discussing why I wanted to speak to you in the first place. I am a realist, Chancellor. As much as Parliament dislikes the idea, I am certain Britain will soon join ADVENT. The will of the people will not be ignored, and frankly it is irresponsible of us to sit this conflict out.”

“The Royal Family has not given an opinion on the referendum,” Saudia noted. “Is there support?”

“The Royal Family will not give a statement either way,” Mason explained. “Internally, we are conflicted, the Queen in particular is concerned about the effect ADVENT would have on our country and culture. The aliens are a threat we all recognize and need to face, and it is best done as part of ADVENT. At the same time, your statements and plans for the monarchy are…understandably disquieting for us.”

Ah, so this _was_ going to be discussed. Saudia set her teacup down. “While I agree your reservations are understandable, this position is not one I will change. The monarchy is an outdated and irrelevant means of influence and standing. Everything about the concept goes against the meritocracy of ADVENT, as well as my own values.”

“You are aware that we do not control the country,” Mason smiled. “Unless you believe the conspiracies.”

Saudia chuckled. “I suspect that the daily briefings the Royal Family receives, and the Queen’s weekly discussions with the Prime Minister are not filled with random trivia. To suggest the Royal Family does not have influence is laughably naïve, as you no doubt know.” She shook her head. “The average individual does not receive dossiers from MI6.”

“Touché, Chancellor,” Mason nodded. “Though I do say that we did not _control_ the country. I never said we don’t have influence, or aren’t well-informed on matters of state and international security.”

“And then you can understand why I see an issue with a certain family having access to such information, and possessing such influence, simply because they were born correctly,” she answered neutrally. “The fact that the Royal Family is also unelected, but is also publicly funded does not improve the image in my eyes.”

“Says the unelected woman of ADVENT,” Mason pointed out. “I don’t recall an election for your appointment.”

She smiled at that, a real one. He was smart. “A special case. Future Chancellors will be elected. Obviously we couldn’t hold an election in the…circumstances. With that said, I earned my position here.”

“Yes, through your mysterious intelligence past,” Mason said with a tinge of sarcasm. “But I’m also not convinced you can claim ADVENT is so much better when you have an entire team deciding who can, and cannot be elected.”

“Qualifications are important,” Saudia retorted. “And since you sound like you did research, you would know Election Oversight only bars those who don’t meet the public specifications. I mean, it wouldn’t look especially good on any nation that just allows anyone to run. That’s how you get conmen and Nazis.”

“Chancellor, I’m actually not disagreeing,” Mason smiled. “In fact, your election system is something I quite like. Absolute freedom is not always something to strive for, but I am pointing out that you are ultimately giving the people the illusion of choice; because while they are free to vote for who they want, all the candidates are pre-determined by ADVENT.”

He swept a hand to the side dismissively. “I won’t deny you have points, and the perception is understandable for outsiders, but I will say that we have the interests of the British people at heart. And despite what you think, some of us do more than just sit in our palace and look down at the peasants,” he smirked. “Me and my brother served in the military, our families give millions to charities and personally assist in humanitarian projects. We’re public figures and role models to people, and we take that seriously.”

“And there is nothing stopping you from continuing that,” Saudia nodded. “If the monarchy wishes to be preserved, there is nothing preventing that. They will just no longer receive classified information, or receive public funding. I suspect that the personal wealth of your family is quite sufficient.”

“While true,” Mason admitted. “It comes with a side effect, one which I’ve noticed with ADVENT. Your rules are objectively ‘fair’. But it will have the effect of my family fading into obscurity in the future. Like it or not, Chancellor, we are a heavily ingrained part of British culture. Our traditions, history, and politics are distinctly our own. Good or bad, it is _ours_.”

He set his teacup down. “As it is now, ADVENT is not interested in preserving the cultures of the assimilated countries. You want to unite our species, that goal is clear. No divisions, no borders, no nationalism. All one species, one people. An admirable goal, on paper, and perhaps needed. But I do wonder if you’ve considered the consequences of it, because it seems very little has been done to limit the potential cultural damage.”

Saudia rested her hands on that table. “I will be honest here, Duke, I care very little for tradition and convention. I find it often holds people, and our species as a whole back. Many people do things ‘traditionally’ because that is the way it is done, even if it is the wrong way. The impact, or lack thereof, on the cultures we assimilate is a non-issue for me. If certain cultural norms vanish as a result of ADVENT, then perhaps they weren’t worth preserving to begin with.”

Mason looked at her thoughtfully, a finger idly tapping on the table. “I believe I can understand where you come from, Chancellor. You may have been born in Nigeria, but you don’t identify as such. You are a Human, with your first loyalty being to your species, not your nation. However, most aren’t like you. As for what you said, I both agree and disagree.”

He paused. “All cultures have positive and negative aspects. I don’t think it would be impossible to emphasize the positive in your countries, while still remaining true to the core of ADVENT. I suppose it depends on what you _want_ , Chancellor. Do you _want_ a homogenized society with the same cities, the same government, the same food, the same norms, where countries are just pieces of land with different geography.”

“Would that be so bad?” She asked.

Mason was silent for a few moments. “I would find it sad, personally. It wouldn’t just be a loss of uniqueness and culture, but also a loss of history which has been ingrained in countries all over the world for generations. Perhaps that is a price of unification, but I don’t necessarily believe it needs to happen. I sincerely believe that you simply have not considered it.”

He moved the large file before him, as well as pushing the platter of food aside. “I am not one to just accept what is going to happen, though, but do my own small part to change it. To this end, I have taken the liberty of conceptualizing something I believe would have tangible benefit to ADVENT, while also addressing some of the concerns I raised.”

Saudia moved her own platter of food aside. “You have my attention.”

“Perfect,” he opened the file. “My proposal is that of a melee-oriented division within ADVENT. I believe that with the Lancer Executors and the Templars, as well as multiple alien equivalents, that melee combat is resurging. The aliens have dedicated units for this, as does XCOM. But I noticed that ADVENT does not have such an equivalent, aside from the Lancers who are an extremely limited number. Does ADVENT plan on addressing this?”

“In the future, perhaps,” Saudia shook her head. “But it isn’t necessarily a pressing priority.” She paused. “With that said, such a division would certainly augment our forces. You came up with this proposal yourself?”

“Along with a few friends in the armed forces, as well as some designers,” he answered. “My inspirations came from the XCOM Templars, medieval history, and the Battlemaster, ironically enough. And it comes together to form what I am calling the Order of Terra. I assumed you would prefer a name that encapsulated our species, not one nation or organization.”

He slid the file over to her. “While I obviously did not have access to the advanced equipment and materials you possess, the designs should speak for themselves.”

Saudia began turning the pages, definitely interested as she saw the high-quality sketches and designs. He appeared to have legitimately put work into this. “Inspired by the medieval period, I see.”

“I would wager that it is perhaps the most famous,” he smiled. “Young children, and many adults, are fascinated by the period. One we romanticize quite often. Chivalry, honor, glory, all attractive and inspiring attributes for young minds.” He waved a hand. “Of course, it wasn’t all like that, but that is what we _remember_. There is something special about seeing even mock tournaments and shows today depicting such. But eventually the knights and lords disappeared as technology improved.”

He looked at her intently. “I want this to serve two purposes. For you and ADVENT, it will provide another tool in your tactical arsenal and permanently fix the lack of a melee-oriented division. The second is as a means of inspiration and morale boosting. I expect even the aliens become inspired when the Battlemaster appears on the Battlefield. Or if you prefer more cold terms, as a propaganda tool.”

“So how would this work?” She asked, looking through the papers. “You have several different ranks.” She raised an eyebrow. “All named after medieval titles, of course.”

“A missed opportunity if I didn’t,” he said, gesturing to the one she had now. “Squire rank, the lowest in the Order. Primarily would serve as the front line in an ADVENT attack with a greatshield augmented with alien alloys and charged coils to reduce plasma effectiveness. They could be armed with pistols or one-handed sidearms for long-range, and short swords or spears for close range.”

The illustration in the file certainly looked more than what the typical medieval squire had. The armor was more styled in the vein of knights, although somewhat plain, while still retaining some of ADVENT’s notable aesthetic. The ‘squire’ held a massive shield in one hand, with a pistol in the other and a spear strapped to its back.

“I imagine this is how ADVENT would be able to close the distance in firefights,” Mason continued. “This would help break stalemates in ADVENT’s favor. Obviously we are in the modern era, where long-ranged weapons are the norm. That is why all units have short and long-ranged weapons. Pistols for advancing forward, and their swords and spears when they engage at close range. Obviously these weapons and armor would be made to modern specifications.”

“Useful,” Saudia noted. “The Oyariah Titans have attempted similar tactics against us. Were it not for psions, they might have been more successful.”

She flipped the page to the next unit. “A Knight proper,” Mason said. “An officer equivalent if you want to use that terminology.” The illustration here had two different Knights, one holding what looked like a flaming sword with a kite shield, and another holding a rifle with the sword sheathed and the shield over the back.

The armor looked similar to the squire, although it seemed slightly less bulky and the helmets were noticeably more ornate, with 45 degree angled wings on the sides for one, and a clearly-inspired late-medieval period-like helmet for the other. “This is where some personalization can come in,” Mason said. “I thought the shield could be decided by the Knight themselves. They could have different types, with their own emblems – ADVENT-approved of course.”

“Acceptable,” she noted absentmindedly as she read a few of the notes, mostly about color or alternative design. This was definitely just a concept, after all. The image of a Knight holding a rifle was rather amusing to her, but she had to admit if there was ever a modern knight, they would definitely have to have something like that.

“Next are those ranked _Lords_ ,” Mason said as she flipped to the respective page. “Or Ladies, if you prefer. Akin to a Marshal in purpose, and who are always on the front lines, as should be expected of leaders. These I envisioned as having more freedom, as you can tell.”

She definitely could. The largest differences in the illustration compared to the previous two was the helmet (Which didn’t look too dissimilar to a Knight) and a cape. Mason had clearly been inspired by the Battlemaster for this one. But what stood out to her were that the four illustrations of these Lords had different weapons. One had a greatsword, one had a sword and shield, another had an axe, and the last one wielded a warhammer.

“I certainly like this concept,” Saudia said, looking up at Mason. “It could certainly be viable. Although I assume you have a leader in place, or equivalent rank.”

“Oh, certainly,” he smiled, motioning for her to turn over the page one last time. “The proposed title of the Lord Commander of the Order of Terra.” Sure enough, she saw the illustration which was extremely similar to the Lords, though there were multiple notes that the color of the cape would not be red, but black.

“With the same freedoms as the Lords, except not quite as often participating in combat,” Mason added. “I didn’t see a need to become overly complex here, as this is not something which needs unnecessary ranks or promotion. However, there _is_ one important element to all of this.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Knighting was always a ceremonial affair,” he explained. “ADVENT is not especially ceremonial, from what I’ve seen. For the Order, I want to have some of this ceremony, and this is where people like me come in. When promoted to Knight or Lord, such ceremonies could be conducted by the respective monarchy or royal equivalent.”

He soon expanded on that. “This is up to the soldier, of course, but for those who wish it, it could be turned into a celebration of sorts. A public event to boost morale if you want a tangible benefit. However, what this does is it preserves some part of the cultures of these countries, while not giving those in monarchies any actual power. Their role is purely ceremonial, which is what you want if I’m not mistaken.”

“What about for countries without such an equivalent,” Saudia asked. “America has something of a…bad history with monarchy.”

“Well, that’s the interesting thing,” Mason said. “You would have two options. Promote as standard, or find a family with some kind of connection, not necessarily to royalty, but knighthood. I suspect even in America you could find someone. The point is _someone_ with a connection to their own country. Can you really say Japanese or English soldiers wouldn’t feel pride and accomplishment upon recognition from their Emperor or Queen, respectively?”

“Perhaps it couldn’t hurt,” she straightened in her chair, considering. “Now, where do _you_ fit in this? I am impressed with this proposal, but I assume you want a position in it? Lord Commander?”

“I considered it, but no,” Mason shook his head. “I am not in prime shape anymore. I am healthy, but not suited for combat now. With that said I _would_ want a position in ADVENT. To fill a niche you have forgotten about until now.”

“Which is?”

“Something akin to a…cultural preserver,” he said thoughtfully. “Someone who would, instead of homogenizing every aspect of ADVENT, work to keep the uniqueness of other countries while not compromising ADVENT values. All done in accordance with ADVENT standards, of course,” he nodded to her. “For most people, I wouldn’t think this would accomplish anything. A throwaway position with no real influence. But you are a reasonable woman, Chancellor. I believe it would be worth something with your approval.”

He clasped his hand together and leaned forward. “If we could come to an agreement regarding this, I know it would assuage concerns in my family. The Crown would publicly support the referendum and solidify our entrance into ADVENT. Provided ADVENT was also public about our role in the creation of this division, and promotion of my own role. It would serve a purpose, I feel. Beyond thanks, it would show other countries they don’t have to fear ADVENT destroying and reforming their countries based upon seemingly arbitrary whims.”

Saudia thought for a moment. He made good points, and she wasn’t one to turn down good ideas that weren’t her own. “I think ADVENT would be open to what you propose,” she finally said. “I cannot make a unilateral decision like this, but I do want all relevant parties to meet and refine this further. We can make this work, if you are willing.”

He smiled. “I certainly am, Chancellor.”

“Excellent. I look forward to seeing what you will do in the future.”

***

_Atlanta, Georgia – United States of America_

_1/2/2017 – 6:12 P.M._

Food was welcome, but Ivan barely tasted anything as he ate. It was some burger joint he didn’t even remember the name of, but had just wandered into as he thought. With some food and drink, he could think a bit more.

The good news was that he at least knew he was psionic. He sincerely doubted they would have lied about that, and that meant that there _was_ a chance he could find some way to become sensitive on his own. Google searches unfortunately hadn’t come up with anything, although there was much speculation about _how_ , exactly, ADVENT and XCOM awakened psions.

He was also fairly sure that he was going to be blacklisted by ADVENT after that incident. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been so aggressive. It had on occasion served him well in court, but unfortunately it wasn’t something he had a firm filter on. He’d never liked censoring himself because of some perceived insult, and that extended to people in authority.

Stupid, perhaps, but at least he could say he had a spine.

Of course, now that meant he had few to no options. He supposed he could swallow his pride and find some entry level position, or…actually, he could just emigrate away from ADVENT. Quite a few countries in Europe were still around, and still had some basic understanding of how criminal cases should be tried.

Yes, that seemed like a good plan. He’d have to sleep on it, but it was better than staying in ADVENT. He had no desire or future here. Let the aliens burn it all to the ground if they wanted. Who knew how much of the war was because of propaganda, and how much was true? He wouldn’t have been shocked to learn very little of it was accurate.

Whatever, soon he would be gone from here.

“You will not leave the country.” Ivan started at the voice as it appeared that some man materialized before him. He _knew_ that no one was sitting across from him, but there sat a very gaunt and pale man in a trench coat, gloves, and no exposed skin aside from the face. He also wore shades, which looked exceptionally out of place as the sun had gone down, and who wore shades _inside_?

Ivan coughed awkwardly. “Sorry, but who the hell are you?” He held up a burger. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to eat alone. Not had a good day.”

“You will not leave the country,” the man repeated. “They will not let you.”

Ivan suddenly realized that the man’s lips hadn’t actually moved.

He blinked, wondering if he was just tired. “Sorry, but-“

The man reached up and raised his shades slightly, and Ivan saw two orange pools of light underneath them. Without a word he lowered them. Ivan turned cold as he acquired some inkling of what was going on. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone noticed, and saw them continuing on their way and seemingly ignoring both of them.

“They will not disturb us; they cannot.” The voice turned raspy, yet crystal clear. It was the voice of something ancient and frail. Yet there was a hardness to it that dared any to challenge what it spoke. “The minds of the blind are frail and malleable. They are shaped into what is desired and needed. What you see before you is merely an illusion, one invisible to all others.”

Ivan coughed. “Who…are you?”

“I am the Overmind of the Ethereal Collective,” he rasped, words rattling in Ivan’s head. “Second to the Imperator, and Watcher of his Plan.”

Yes. Right. Whoever that was sounded important. “I assume you are talking to me for a reason?”

“I watch your world,” he said. “Even now the people walk as those in a slumber, controlled and submissive to those in command. They follow and obey without question. They accept the status quo even when it affects them. They do not resist when pressured, and will back down upon resistance to their preconceived ideas. You are flawed on your own; aggressive and impulsive, but you keep your own mind. You have my attention for now.”

First, he wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult or compliment. Both?

Second, he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ a dangerously powerful Ethereal interested in him. That might end badly if he screwed it up.

“You do know I was just trying to join ADVENT?” He said slowly. “I’m not exactly prime…whatever you want from me.”

“You did not attempt to join because of loyalty to your species or hatred of aliens,” the Overmind noted. “But because you felt it was the best option of a situation the fault of ADVENT itself. And when they refused you, you left forever.”

“And I don’t regret it,” Ivan said. “Best choice or not, I’m not going back to them.”

“The question is what will you do _now_?” The Overmind said. “ADVENT has marked you as a potential problem. You will not be able to leave them. You will be detained. Even as we speak ADVENT Intelligence is poring through your computer files, internet history, and case history. They will know everything about you, and you will be under their eyes forever.”

Ivan swallowed. “Can I ask how you know this?”

A spindly gloved finger touched the man’s head. “As I said, the blinded minds are weak and malleable. I simply watched and listened.”

Ivan leaned back, rubbing his forehead. “In that case, assuming you’re telling the truth, I don’t _have_ a future.”

“Not here,” the Overmind agreed. “But there are paths open to you. I will see if you can grasp them for yourself.” Before his eyes, he vanished, leaving Ivan alone.

“Wa-“ Ivan said mid-word before he stopped, seeing there was no point. He seemed to be alone now, and was left with a _lot_ more questions than answers.

The first thing he needed to do was get back to his house and get caught up on what exactly was known about the aliens. Second was to seriously think about what he had said. Ivan was wondering if this Overmind Ethereal was going to offer to take him off-planet, or even awaken his psionic potential. But it made some sense that he hadn’t done any of that yet. This alien did not strike him as someone to hand out answers or solutions.

It seemed more of a means of letting him know that _someone_ was watching him.

But if he wanted more, he would have to take it.

He took a sip of his warming water, thinking. He would have to verify if what this Overmind had said was true or not. If it was, his life was as good as over. If it wasn’t, then he still didn’t owe ADVENT anything, but he’d be more wary of telepathic aliens appearing out of nowhere. But he had a feeling that the alien hadn’t made anything up.

If that was the case, then he had nothing to really lose. In which case some drastic action had to be taken.

If ADVENT wanted to hoard their ability to awaken psions, then he might just have to take it.

Who knew, perhaps the Overmind would even help him out.

He had a plan now. Much different than what he had earlier, but succeed or fail, he would be better off. Now he had to start determining the specifics of how to execute it.

***

_ADVENT Headquarters Forum – Switzerland_

_1/5/2017 – 1:02 P.M._

“We should not be afraid to call this what it is,” Reverend David Steinman was saying. “It is the first step to the dissolution of the institution of religion itself. While ADVENT may be benign now, the signs point to an era equivalent to the dark times of Christian persecution.”

This was starting off wonderfully.

The forum was packed with people, with the various religious representatives in the front rows, the media spread throughout, and a limited number of the public. She had made the decision to allow this to be televised, and wondered if she should have actually mentioned that to the speakers themselves instead of letting it remain an internal secret.

But too late to do anything about that. If these people wanted to give a sermon or condemnation, she was fine with it. In the interest of fairness each person invited would have an opportunity to speak directly to her and Stein, or however they wanted to use their allotted time, and then return to their seats.

Saudia and Stein were seated with their backs to the crowd, though they could see themselves on the two screens on both sides of the podium, allowing the crowd and cameras to always get their facial expressions and reactions. The representative of the Southern Baptist Convention, one of the largest religious bodies in the world, finally paused for breath and Saudia decided to interject.

“I do wish to correct you on one aspect,” she said. “ADVENT has no intention of dissolving or banning the practice of peaceful and unobtrusive religion.”

“Curious choice of words,” Steinman scowled. “The definition of which depends on your own decision.”

“The definitions do not change,” Saudia answered calmly. “As long as what you’re preaching doesn’t incite hate or violence, doesn’t deliberately spread misinformation, and does not affect the judgement of individuals in influential positions, and follow ADVENT regulations, then the religion is perfectly legal.”

“And what do you say to your orders you sent to every church,” he held up a piece of paper. “You are _requiring_ us to install cameras in _our_ sanctuaries, force us to register all our members in databases, and have _observers_ watching us. What justification is there for that? This is _intimidation._ ”

Stein very much looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, but she answered calmly. “You would only have a problem with such if there is something to hide. The world has suffered from religious violence before; radicalization within places of worship. That will not happen again.”

The Reverend looked insulted. “You cannot lump Christianity in the same category as _Islam_ , which was, if I recall, _banned_. Yet if I’m to understand, it is legal _again_?”

“We most certainly can,” Stein said flatly. “It is not a matter of which religion is more or less ‘good’, it is a matter of fairness. We are not going to exempt anyone from following the law. If practicing Muslims make the necessary changes to their doctrine and follow our guidelines, they are just as legal as your own church.”

The man looked like he was going to give some retort to that, but the timekeeper signaled it was up. “Thank you for your contribution,” Saudia said with a smile. “We will have the next person come up.”

Maybe this one wouldn’t spend the majority of his time on a sermon.

The next few representatives were much better, and used their time to inquire more about certain details of the regulations. Saudia suspected they were asking, not because they _didn’t_ understand them, but because they knew this was being broadcast and most of the public wasn’t as educated.

The line of questioning focused on the appointed observers, which Saudia was happy to explain in great detail. They could be involved as much or little as the church desired, they would be respectful of the members, and the only set rule was that they couldn’t be barred from attending events. By the end, the Rabbi seemed more comfortable with the idea. Still skeptical, obviously, but to the surprise of no one, discussing things in a rational manner made everything clearer.

More questions came on the database and information gathering. Stein just explained that the religious affiliation was just another datapoint in a large list for citizens. It would of course be kept confidential and would only be accessed when necessary. Saudia suspected it helped that _no one_ was exempt from this requirement, and it wasn’t targeting specific denominations or religions.

The next man to take the podium was Reverend Ken Codsworth, of the Missouri-Synod denomination of the Lutheran Church. He was a tall man, greying hair and thin glasses. He had some notes in his hands which he placed on the podium. “Chancellor Vyandar, Chief Stein,” he began in greeting. “The questions raised have so far not touched upon what I feel is a much more worrying concern. I would state that it is forcing us to teach against our beliefs, if not intentionally sabotaging us.”

Saudia suspected she knew where this was going. “Our schools are where parents can be sure that their children will receive a Christian education, without being indoctrinated by other falsehoods about the world. But now,” he paused for emphasis. “You are forcing us to teach your curriculum. What justification do you have to force us to teach evolution when it is something we do not believe is accurate.”

Oh boy, here it went. “ADVENT simply wants to ensure that every child receives a quality education,” she began. “That includes being properly taught the latest scientific theories and facts. At this moment the theory of evolution is the most well-documented and studied explanation for the origin of our species. If you have irrefutable proof that the universe was created out of nothing by a god, then we would happily teach that instead. ADVENT bases our curriculum on facts, Reverend, not beliefs. Just because children can go to a religious school does not mean they will receive a sub-par education, not anymore.”

The man looked torn between fury and frustration. “And what if we refuse this?”

Stein answered. “That depends on the circumstances. If it is simply one teacher not following curriculum, they will be removed from their position and replaced. If it is the action of leadership, the school will be shut down and children placed into the nearest public school.”

“I should clarify for all those in attendance that while parents of course have choices of schools, none are exempt from ADVENT regulations,” Saudia added. “There are too many instances of abusive conditions, questionable curriculums, and religious indoctrination for any school to be exempt from this.”

“Teaching our children about Jesus is considered indoctrination?” Codsworth demanded.

“Of course not,” Saudia shook her head. “But the belief is something they should decide for themselves, not just because their parents told them they should. In school they will be taught truth and facts. If those lead to them believing, then that is perfectly acceptable. We want children to question, Reverend, not simply accept.”

“You are also not forbidden from having religious classes,” Stein added. “Be they history or theology. However, you simply cannot teach these as fact. The existence, or lack thereof, of a god cannot be proven or disproven. Ensure that they understand that, and there won’t be misunderstandings.”

“And how far does this extend?” The Reverend demanded. “I will not preach lies to my congregation.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “Then don’t. If you wish to hold a conversation on the merits, or lack thereof, of what you believe or disbelieve, then that is fine. But it needs to be based in something real, not a book written thousands of years ago.” She glanced at the timekeeper. “Thank you for your contribution. The next person may come forward.”

The next few followed the pattern of asking for more details about the curriculum and the finer points of what would, and would not be permitted. Again, likely more for the benefit of those observing than because they didn’t know. The regulations had been decided some time ago. Now came one of the more high-profile guests.

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama stood the podium, in his orange robes and with no obvious prepared statements. The elderly Tibetan man looked rather healthy for his age, and Saudia was expecting a nuanced take on ADVENT, like he did on certain issues. Given his stances, she doubted he supported ADVENT, but he’d never struck her as a fanatic.

She was interested to what he would say.

“I will keep what I have to say short and with limited questions,” he began. “I would first like to commend Chancellor Vyandar for allowing this to take place in the first place. Discussion and talk helps us all understand each other, and despite the hostility she knew she would face, it was still allowed. An open mind is important, especially in the world that exists today.”

Nice of him, and Saudia made a slow nod of acknowledgement. “But I must be truthful,” he said, sadness in his voice. “This world has descended into chaos and violence. Yet this is not violence from the stars, but actively perpetrated by ADVENT itself on their own citizens.” He looked around the forum. “Peaceful protesters being arrested and hunted, keeping their prisoners as slave labor, and enacting their will across the world through violence.”

A shake of the head. “We witnessed the bloody destruction of the Arabic people, their conquering of Canadians who had done nothing wrong, and today they treat violence as a first resort, not last. The rights and liberties of people of all types have been stripped under ADVENT. They claim it is necessary, but in many cases I have seen that they are not interested in a dialogue when they believe their way is the correct one.”

This was not unexpected from him, Saudia had suspected that he would have issues with ADVENT policies. Pacifists; she would never understand them. “It is not restricted to their own people,” he continued. “ADVENT spreads a message of hate and intolerance towards the aliens from the stars. There seems to be no effort to solve this matter peacefully instead of continuing a conflict where millions die.”

Stein did not bother to contain the look of absolute disgust on her face, and Saudia didn’t especially refrain from showing her own nonverbal disagreement. “The right to defend is acceptable,” he continued. “But escalation will only make it worse. At the same time…this is not a normal situation we as a species find ourselves in. I do believe that many in ADVENT are doing their best, yet I implore those here now to consider a less violent approach, and to treat all Humans with the dignity and respect to which they are entitled.”

He looked once more out to the crowd. “We should all work to peacefully remind ADVENT to pursue this path. Violence and hate will only continue this cycle. Holding ADVENT accountable for their actions, positive and negative, is the best path towards true unity. It will not come through war or conflict, but through acceptance of all.”

He focused on Saudia. “You are a hard woman, Chancellor, but you appear to understand something of justice and fairness. You have the capability to enact change across the world.” He paused. “The Tibetan people have been persecuted and cracked down by the Chinese for decades. Is ADVENT prepared to hold to their ideals, as you are now allied with China?”

There were murmurs at that. It was a good thing she had considered the possibility of this question. “ADVENT has raised this issue with Chinese officials,” she said. “We are in negotiations regarding Tibet, but China is aware that we do not approve of the current situation. We have also requested the release of the 11th Panchen Lama.”

The media certainly liked that, with shocked faces as they double checked their cameras, as the people around them openly began talking. The Dalai Lama simply bowed his head. “For that, you have my thanks, Chancellor. Please consider what I have said here. The lives of billions will be decided by you.”

He departed the podium as the next person came. That had gone as she expected; the good news was that everyone was likely going to focus on her statements regarding Tibet and the abducted Panchen Lama instead of his rather harsh condemnation of ADVENT policies. Fair enough.

A few more people later, and then stood Arnold Cameron, a minister of the United Methodist Church. Another elderly minister who failed to stand out, he nonetheless cut a strict and sharp figure, standing tall as he addressed both of them directly. From what Saudia recalled on the man, he had been raised in a military household so it made sense that his demeanor was noticeably different from most other ministers.

And he not exactly speaking favorably of ADVENT right now.

“Chancellor,” he said slowly. “Can I have in no uncertain terms what you foresee the future of religion is under ADVENT?”

“Certainly,” she answered. “Religion will endure under ADVENT, but without the extremist elements and regressive policies which have plagued the institution since its inception. I do not believe it should hold sway over the average citizen, and in the future, each individual should come to their own personal decision to participate or not.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Smooth words, Chancellor. I am not convinced. I have pored over your guidelines, and it seems exceptionally clear that the intent is to have _all_ religion die a slow death. Would you be displeased by this?”

She considered what to say, but decided to opt for the truth. “I would not be heartbroken. I have no deep ties or desire for religion to continue.”

“I don’t know if you know what you are truly proposing,” Cameron said. “Much as some such as you deride religion, it is not solely responsible for the evils of the world, and indeed has brought significant hope and good to the world. Charities, art, philosophy – many people you admire from history were men and women of God. And you are saying that it would be better if this had never happened?”

Saudia sighed, thinking of how best to answer. “Religion has certainly done good for the world, Minister, no one can deny that. But religion is not special in this regard. As for the men and women of the past being religions that was, for lack of a better word, simply part of the time. That does not mean they were correct about everything. As our understanding of the world and universe has grown, it is no surprise that alternatives to a god emerge.”

“I will add that there is nothing stopping from religions today from doing good,” Stein interjected. “There is nothing saying that you cannot continue donating money, performing Humanitarian missions, and additional service work. Indeed, we encourage it. This is the purpose of these guidelines – to eliminate the pitfalls and failings of religion and promote the better aspects.”

“Your guidelines themselves say differently,” Cameron said flatly. “We can’t ask for money from our congregations, all money has to be reported to ADVENT, we cannot spread our message outside of authorized events…these rules which you say help us do little more than neuter us. There is no excuse other than to ensure churches don’t grow, and our message is controlled, then sanitized to what your people deem _necessary_.”

“These are rules which are designed to counter specific abuses,” Stein said coolly. “Which it may be an unnecessary inconvenience, there is nothing stopping your congregations from donating. I consider these guidelines a small price to pay to ensure that well-meaning people are scammed out of their money, or drawn into cults like Scientology, or otherwise taken advantage of my so-called speakers of god.”

“But this should be done on a case by case basis,” he pointed out. “Punishing all for the mistakes of a few is a thinly veiled effort to delegitimize and control religion as a whole. This is greater than the body I represent, and I do not believe you understand the consequences. Perhaps you cannot.”

“And what consequences are those?” Saudia asked.

Cameron sighed. “Chancellor, you understand there are people who suffer in this world. Be it in body, mind, or soul. Perhaps it is the terminally ill, perhaps it is those in prisons, perhaps there are those who have everything but feel empty inside. They are without any hope, they _know_ they need something, but don’t know what it could be.”

He motioned around. “For many that stability and hope comes from religion. I understand ADVENT prides itself on facts, logic, and evidence. Then take into account that religion is responsible for giving people something to live for, for giving them hope and meaning where there was previously none. By turning those who have done wrong on a better path. Religion has been responsible for saving many lives, Chancellor, ones you likely won’t know about, but a person who feels like the world has nothing more to offer him and wishes to end it all may reconsider if they know that there _is_ someone who does care.”

He pursed his lips. “Faith gives people hope in very dark and hopeless times, Chancellor. Even now I am sure many soldiers of ADVENT are relying on that hope as they fight for a state which treats their beliefs as childish superstition. It gives them courage and strength to continue on. _That_ , Chancellor, is what you and ADVENT wish to see gone. You would prefer an empty and cold world devoid of hope or comfort that is outside ADVENT. You would prefer people suffer in silence, and only rely on themselves. Belief is a powerful thing, Chancellor, especially if their faith is true. The blood will be on your hands, Chancellor, if you continue down this path.”

That…was an eloquent speech. One she was not sure how to respond to initially. Stein took charge. “Minister, I do wish to reiterate that ADVENT itself has no established stance on religion. We have certainly never referred to it as such, nor subjected our soldiers to feeling uncomfortable or persecuted for their faith.”

“Religion, I will say once more, is perfectly legal,” Saudia added. “There is nothing stopping those who seek religion from finding it.”

Cameron fixed her with a look. “Then why prevent us from seeking them out?”

“Unauthorized solicitation is an ADVENT standard,” Stein answered neutrally. “Nothing is exempt from this. Including religion. But as you know, churches are of course allowed to host events provided they have authorization.”

The man was clearly not pleased with the answer, but his face simply hardened as his time came to a close. “I have made my point,” Cameron willingly stepped down. “Think on what I said. There is more at stake than just debating the finer points of religious regulation.” He stepped down to the cold silence of the crowd.

Saudia had to at least commend him for holding to his beliefs so strongly. And making a case for religion while he was at it. An interesting perspective, and one she would think about at some point. But in the meantime, there were more people to listen to.

The next few were somewhat entertaining, and one of them flat out demanded why the practice of homeopathy had been banned, and she’d calmly responded that it wasn’t based in fact or rationality, and those who actually performed it were very likely thieves and conmen. Most of the Indians in attendance had looked both offended and concerned. Unfortunately that was one region that still believed in it.

Luckily it wouldn’t be that way forever.

The one up now was especially amusing. “Are you religious, Chancellor?”

She resisted the urge to smile. “No, I believe I mentioned this earlier.”

Reverend Gabriel Adams sniffed. “Then what gives you the right to control what we believe and teach? You forbid us accepting donations from those who only wish to spread the seed of our Lord across the world? And furthermore, restrict those blessed by God himself from sharing this message!”

Adams, as it turned out, was one of the worst of the people invited here. He preached at a megachurch which she saw little better than an organized extortion racket to enrich himself. “We are not controlling what you believe,” she said. “I don’t believe anyone has stated that.”

“As for restricting donations,” Stein gave a grim smile as she looked down at her folder. “I believe you misunderstand how that works. Of course, there is nothing stopping donations to worthy causes. Churches will of course be connected with ADVENT-approved charities across the world. However, donations will not be used for…let us say, _frivolous_ purposes,” she glanced down. “Such as the five million dollar mansion you own, or the sixteen million dollar ranch you have in Texas, or your personal jet-“

“I’ll have you know that all of those are necessary,” Adams said with conviction. “They are needed to spread the word of the Lord. God himself gifted me with such treasures, and who am I to reject them.” He narrowed his eyes. “And how could you even know what I have? What is that paper, and how do you even know it is accurate?”

“Well, then god will have to become more frugal,” she said sarcastically, eliciting a chuckle from the crowd. “Oh, and this?” She held up the paper. “This is your arrest warrant detailing the assets which have been taken. Taking millions from the people you con is, sadly for you, illegal now and you’ll serve as a good face to what we don’t tolerate anymore.” She motioned to two Peacekeepers which had walked up and placed the gaping man in handcuffs. “Take him for trial.”

“Yes sir.”

Saudia had not been sure that was the best way to handle that situation, as the original plan was to arrest him quietly afterwards, along with several other similar figures, but she had to admit it wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying. It at least gave a good illustration of what was no longer allowed.

There were a few more people who weren’t nearly as combative or dramatic, and those were finished in good time. The next person was one of some controversy. Razeen el-Mustafa, the Grand Imam of what was left of the Islamic faith. He didn’t speak for all sects, but was the only representative of the religion here as the others were too scattered to form large or cohesive groups. He wore the robes and had a thick greying beard with a turban on his head.

“I will begin by extending my thanks to the Chancellor and Chief Stein,” he began. “I will not take a significant amount of time, nor will I subject you to more interrogative questions.”

Saudia did personally wonder how this was going to go. She wasn’t expecting anything too dramatic, as Islam in particular was still viewed with negativity in much of the world. Though she wasn’t expecting much praise either. He likely didn’t want to rock the boat.

“We are a shadow of what we once were,” he began. “And there were two responses to the War on Terror for us. Blame or reflection. We could blame others, blame them for the desecration of our Prophet and annihilation of his Holy City. We could blame the soldiers who came and killed our people in the night and crucified them as a warning. We could blame Allah himself for bringing this upon his people.”

He paused. “Or we could reflect on _why_ it had happened. We could consider the possibility that perhaps – we were wrong in our beliefs. I will admit that when the Caliphate rose, I was a proud supporter. Yet when the atrocities began, there were those who realized that this was not what Allah had taught. We left and tried to show our brothers and sisters that what they were doing was not righteous, but damning.”

He shook his head. “But too many did not listen, and it forced me to ask _why_ so many of us were drawn to that path. The truth is that our destruction was brought about by ourselves, not the West, not even the Commander. We taught and accepted what we preached without thinking about the context of what it could lead to.” He allowed a contemplative pause.

“I do not believe it was right that our beliefs were made illegal, and us marked and watched,” he finally said. “But I cannot deny the justification for it. Many did not believe in second chances for us, but to my surprise I received a message from ADVENT that said exactly that. There are strings attached, but in light of the past, can any of us say they are unjustified?”

The Grand Imam looked around the crowd. “If there is one thing I want to impart, it is that change is not wrong. The world is changing; this is not the same place it was even a decade ago. Religion, not just Islam, has been rooted in the past for too long and it has never led to any long-term benefits. We shouldn’t look solely on the laws and readings themselves to justify our beliefs, but the values and meanings behind them which transcend the pages.”

He clasped his hands together. “I believe Chief Stein said it best here. We only have to fear ADVENT if we are afraid of what they would learn. And if you are afraid, perhaps what you believe is wrong.” He bowed his head and stepped down, to a scattering of applause.

Saudia found it extremely ironic that a representative of _Islam_ of all things had arguably been the most supportive. In any case, they were reaching the last of the representatives, and many of the questions now were somewhat repeating what had already been said. All things considered she felt that this had gone very well.

The only one left was Pope Marcellus, and she had felt he would be best to close things out, as he already enjoyed a good relationship with ADVENT and had been cooperative with the new regulations. He genuinely seemed to want to reform the Catholic Church into something better than it was. A religious figure she could actually respect.

Dressed in his white robes and cap, Marcellus began at the podium. “I’ve thought on what I would say once this was done. I expect I would not be incorrect in saying that this has been illuminating for many people, and it is especially warming to see so many people of different faiths come together in unity.”

He raised a finger. “I have no questions for Chancellor Vyandar and Chief Stein. I have been aware of what they ask since the beginning and have cooperated with them when necessary. Rather, I would like to speak about what I’ve seen here. Fear and indignation were prominent, and not unjustified.”

The Pope paused. “These restrictions and regulations are new and frightening for us. For some it might incite fears of persecution. Of silencing. Suppression of speech. The so-called “war on religion” has been used to describe this. And I can certainly not say that ADVENT has true freedom of religion.”

He lowered the finger and looked around the room thoughtfully. “But there is no cause without reason, not here. We must all ask ourselves just _why_ ADVENT felt such actions needed to be taken. It goes beyond just religious extremism, because if that were the case, only the troublesome ones would be removed.”

“This, my friends, is the consequence of abusing the privilege we enjoyed for so long,” he said, clasping his hands. “Instead of using our influence and numbers to improve the lives of people around the world and spread the word of God, we’ve used it to enrich ourselves, spread hatred against others, abuse the power of government for ourselves and not the people, and all the time believing we were better than everyone because of our belief.”

He shook his head. “All of us are sinners, and many of us forget the simple teachings of the Word. Even ones such as ‘Love Thy Neighbor’ are ignored when convenient. Is it any wonder that this would foster resentment and rejection from those who are not blinded by their own false perception? The Grand Imam said what I feel now. This was brought upon ourselves.”

Marcellus swept a hand over the crowd. “Ask yourselves if what you face now would even be considered if we truly taught and followed our beliefs, and gave more than lip service. We are, as was stated, too stuck in the past. We have rejected knowledge that we feel is against God, yet never considered if the source was right all along.”

He suddenly smiled. “Nowhere do the scriptures speak of aliens. If such an important part of this universe can simply be forgotten, then we must ask ourselves just _what_ we do not know. Too often we pretend to have answers when there are none. We lie and speak in riddles when we could simply say ‘we do not know’. And that is the honest truth. That is why we have faith in something we cannot see, and every night wonder why he allows this to happen.”

He looked back to the duo opposite him. “I believe that we are beginning to realize how little we know about God, we who are fools to even begin to think we can understand him. We must look to the future now, and treat this as an opportunity, not a sentence. A fresh start. Actions speak louder than words, and today I will take the first steps in addressing an issue more prominent than what this gathering has met for.”

Saudia was curious where he was going with this. “The aliens threatens our species, not just ADVENT. We have all seen their brutality and hatred towards us, and a defeat would ensure that those that live are enslaved or killed. As such we are obligated to defend ourselves, and there can be no higher justification for war against the godless creatures descending on us from the heavens.”

Saudia leaned forward. Was he actually going to do what she thought?

The Pope’s expression took one of determination. “This is one conflict we will not flee from. By the authority invested in me by God Almighty and the Vatican, I declare the Tenth Crusade against the Ethereal Collective to purge our world of the alien threat and beyond it. Words are no longer enough, and I call upon all who are able to assist ADVENT in bringing this goal to fruition.”

Stein, for once, looked surprised, and the entire room burst into chaos as the Pope quietly stepped down. Newscasters were speaking frantically into their microphones and debate raged all around. For her part, Saudia had _not_ expected that. The declaration of a Crusade _now_ had not been something she’d considered.

Yet if there was ever a time for it, it would be now.

“Full of surprises, isn’t he,” Stein commented to her. “I like this guy.”

“Agreed,” Saudia nodded. “All things considered, I think this little event went very well.”

“A crusade declared, China likely mad, and I got to arrest someone,” Stein chuckled. “A good day all around.”


	37. Screaming

 

_Forge of the Outsider - Zudjari-7_

_12/24/2016 – 11:02 A.M._

The Battlemaster found the planets of the Zudjari both miserable and beautiful. From surveys and what records Cogitian had been able to find, they had only colonized extremely arid or desert planets, and built their crystalline pyramids seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Of course, the Collective had only managed to stumble across them completely by accident, well after the species had been purged.

The Battlemaster piloted his new Overseer, choosing to keep the same name of the _Cultro,_ to set it down right before the massive pyramid. To this day Zudjari technology was still mostly a mystery, and the working theories were that it was some application or adaption of Sovereign tech, but primarily having to do with energy manipulation and generation, which was _not_ how their own research into Sovereign technology seemed to work.

Fectorian visited this planet every so often, and always returned in a bad mood, which the Battlemaster never knew if it came from his inability to understand how Zudjari technology worked, or from dealing with the lone operation of the Forge himself. As he approached the slightly brighter rectangle the seemingly solid surface began retracting and folding in on itself.

The entire pyramid was without a doubt one of the most interesting structures he had ever seen. It was made out of the same crystalline material as what the Outsider Forge produced, which gave the structure an orange, transparent look, although it still managed to hide the complex machinery within.

One interesting fact about this Forge was that it was placed at the _exact_ point where it would always be perpetual day. Day and night existed on the planet, but the nights were exceptionally short, and only near the equator due to how close the planet was to the resident star. Fectorian was positive the pyramid was able to absorb or convert solar energy to power the Forge, which explained a lack of any traditional power source.

His suit protected him from the worst of the heat, but it was by no means comfortable. Fortunately the temperature dropped off significantly once he was inside and the wall closed behind him. The Battlemaster had no idea how the temperature was controlled since not once here did he see vents or anything resembling temperature control.

 _“Welcome, Battlemaster of the Ethereal Collective,”_ came the voice of the resident machine intelligence, in a gratingly screeching tone. The Zudjari may have been able to create technology even the Collective couldn’t replicate, but they had clearly never been master programmers. From what he’d learned, the Zudjari Intelligence managed the Forge and ran most of the machines and Outsider production plants, but nothing else.

And it couldn’t operate without instructions.

“Battlemaster, welcome, welcome,” the lone resident Zudjari greeted as he stepped out of a wall. The Battlemaster was still unsure if there were designated paths through the Forge, or if one could walk through any part of it and a path would be created. “I have long been expecting you. It has been far too long since one of the Imperator’s own graced this forge.”

“Save your groveling,” the Battlemaster dismissed as he began walking forward. “I am here because your creations have disappointed me.”

I’llan Ceen, the one Zudjari allowed to operate the Forge was a figure the Battlemaster didn’t hold any fondness for. While Mu’ut Jeen had been a traitor and idiot, he at least had a spine when he had made the intellectually questionable decision to reward the Imperator’s actions in bringing him and a tenth of the Zudjari in stasis out of it by instantly betraying him and enslaving a small portion of the species on this planet.

Of course, Jeen had been promptly killed by Sicarius on Earth before their existence was compromised. A few telepathic tricks here and there ensured that the entire “Outsider Incident”, as only the highest ranked of Humans called it, was remembered as an isolated event and not something to worry about.

It was a good thing that Jeen had only managed to escape with only a small force and not hundreds. Otherwise the damage would have been far too extensive to be repaired. Of course, it had informed Humanity that alien life _did_ exist, and it could be extrapolated that the Outsider Incident was the reason XCOM had been created, and by extension, the cause of many of the problems today.

I’llan Ceen on the other hand was a mere…engineer. Or so he was classified as. There were no scientists, unfortunately, so the mystery of Zudjari technology would remain such, but Ceen was able to operate the entire Forge and even apply improvements and alterations to what it produced. He was also a coward and terrified of all Ethereals after Sicarius had brought back the corpse of their most powerful psion.

The Zudjari were a tall species, the smallest being eight Human feet tall, with stone grey skin or green, depending on genetic stock; in addition to thin, beady eyes with small glowing orange pupils. Their heads were slanted, bald, and had a mouth which opened vertically. Ceen was likely standard as Zudjari went, with grey skin and a missing eye.

He had yet to explain the eye, as he was found that way.

It might explain his cowardice.

“I have, of course, reviewed the footage and data you have sent to me, Battlemaster,” Ceen continued as they walked through the Forge. “These Humans, very dangerous, very intelligent. Nearly an equal to us at our infancy, but of course they do not compare to the power of the Ethereals-“

“Your Outsider units are obsolete,” the Battlemaster interrupted flatly, not looking down at him. “Their usefulness has ended. Physical weapons can break them apart with disappointing effectiveness and energy weapons will overload them. But you know this, even though I specifically recall you stated that they would be _immune_ to energy weapons.”

He stopped and looked down at the alien whose eye had widened. “I expected better.”

“I deeply apologize,” Ceen quickly said. “I did not know that particular…flaw…existed. I swear that we had never seen it before-“

“Then your enemies must have been either weak or stupid. The Humans figured it out almost immediately after they developed laser weapons.”

Ceen quickly walked forward as he led the Battlemaster down another path. “Outsider units as they exist are inefficient. Agreed! I have been working exceptionally hard to correct the mistakes and have produced upgraded units which will more than suffice against these Humans.” He paused. “However, I want to point out that….well…individually this is a lot of work…”

He trailed off as the Battlemaster stared at him, but pressed forward in a rush of breath. “My work would proceed much more quickly…if I had some more help…”

The Battlemaster held his gaze until the alien looked away. “No. The Zudjari lost their place in our Collective. They have not earned a second chance,” he paused. “If your work produces results, that will be reconsidered.”

“Ah, then let me waste no further time!” The wall opened into a large triangular area which had an entire wall of suspended Outsider crystals. The other two walls were moderately transparent, and through the orange-tinted glass the Battlemaster saw one aspect of the Forge. It appeared that light was being concentrated into vials, all of which had a crystal of some kind seeming to grow in it.

In front of one of these walls were tables of certain kinds of equipment or technology that seemed already made. “The base Outsider form has been improved, it will regenerate far faster. The crystalline-repair aspect was extensively improved and the mono-crystalline manipulation was further refined into what you will soon see.”

The crystal began expanding and seeming to fold outwards. The Battlemaster had given up trying to think of how they worked. If Fectorian and Revelean were baffled, he certainly would not be able to figure it out. Eventually the crystalline Outsider was standing before him, an orange glow emanating from the chest where the core crystal resided.

The Battlemaster without warning lashed out with his sword and the Outsider moved by leaping away with surprising agility. A blade-like extension folded out of the right arm and it tried striking back which the Battlemaster easily deflected and lightly dueled the Outsider as it used its speed to try and move around him.

The Battlemaster telekinetically pinned it to one place, as well as the bladed arm, and followed up with an overhead swiped downwards. The Outsider raised the free arm and a shield folded outwards from the arm and took the full blow, sending cracks through the shield.

Interesting.

The Battlemaster telekinetically blew it into one of the walls, which cracked but immediately healed itself. The shield the Outsider had retracted into its arm, as it appraised the Battlemaster. For his part, the Battlemaster had seen enough and psionically dashed forward and stabbed deep into the chest of the Outsider, shattering the core crystal.

The alien creation dissipated into nothing, and the Battlemaster turned back to Ceen. “This is an improvement. Good.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Ceen picked up another crystal. “That is what I have designed as a Navigator. Fast, agile, and capable of killing enemies in enclosed spaces with ease.” He activated the second crystal. “This one is a Commander unit, one designed specifically for front-line combat.”

The Outsider that formed was identical in shape to the previous one, but at least two heads taller than it. “The difference with these is that for optimum effectiveness, they must be fitted with additional equipment,” Ceen said as he walked over to the table and picked up what looked like a piece of hardened crystal. It was a dull orange, almost brown, and didn’t look alive like most of the crystalline structures here.

“I have come up with the concept of hardening crystal to serve as a form of armor,” Ceen explained as he placed what looked like a single breastplate on the chest of the Outsider. “The downside is that, as dead crystal, it cannot be integrated into the unit itself and must be applied manually. The Outsider will fuse to the dead crystal, and there will be superior protection provided.”

The Outsider took the cue and walked over to the table and began assembling the armor, by essentially sticking it on various places of its body until it resembled an Outsider, but one that had no glow and looked far more protected.

At a nod from Ceen, the Battlemaster slashed upward and while there was a deep cut in the armor, he hadn’t actually cut through it. “The crystal sadly won’t heal,” Ceen noted. “But it will easily protect it from extensive damage.”

The Battlemaster nodded. “An improvement. You have indeed been working diligently.”

“Much appreciated, Battlemaster, I thank you very much,” he said as he rushed to another, noticeably larger crystal. “And this is the final unit I have refined. The Overlord. The Humans will not be able to stand up to it, I can assure you.” The crystal folded outwards and the Battlemaster was staring at an Outsider his height and size. Unlike the other Outsider units, this one did not have hands, but constantly folding and unfolding stumps.

They then materialized, each arm in a different configuration, with the right arm morphing into a cannon of some kind, and the left forming into a kind of shield. Ceen handed the Overlord a piece of dead crystal which had a small device on it pointing down. The Outsider placed it on the shoulder, and it shot a laser directly into the Overlord. This made it glow brighter and the cannon fired a bright beam of orange which began cutting through the thinner crystal walls, which began cracking. It switched, and then began firing orange bolts which caused other cracks on the wall. The laser shut off, and the firing stopped.

“A unit with the ability to harness energy and convert it into destruction,” Ceen for once seemed highly proud of his work. “It, of course, can wear the specially designed armor, and integrated energy dispensers. I trust that this is a marked improvement.”

“It is,” the Battlemaster gave him genuine credit. The alien had proven his worth today. “Of course, they need to face the Humans in battle. Should they perform well, we will revisit the situation of your people.”

“You are generous, Battlemaster, I thank you,” Ceen said, bowing his head. “I will work to outdo myself even now; you will not regret giving my people a second chance.”

“We shall see,” the Battlemaster said as he turned around to leave. “But know that there will not be a third.”

***

_Union Viarior Trade Command – Andromeda Prime_

_12/28/2016 – 1:09 P.M._

Nartha had not expected the headquarters of a Union which primarily, on paper, was known for power brokering, trade, and otherwise exerting unparalleled economic dominance having something equivalent to a military fortress. While he wouldn’t have been surprised if some of their bases were heavily armed, this looked like they were expecting an army to invade.

His onboard computer had informed him that every one of the sixty AA plasma turrets had been trained on him, along with the vast majority of their missile defense systems. In comparison to its defenses, Union Viarior Trade Command was very…small. It consisted of a large square patio which had landing areas for all kinds of spacecraft and seemed to be perpetually full.

There was a significant amount of traffic, with ships entering and leaving at a steady pace. As Zararch, he had a spot reserved for him but knew the Andromedons were likely not happy about this.

The main structure in the center of the square was the Trade Command itself, a supermassive skyscraper which put the tallest buildings on Earth to shame. It lacked any windows and looked like a vertical grey rectangle, with defense platforms what looked like every fifteen floors wrapping around the outside with visible Battlefield Engineers and soldiers.

Union Viarior clearly didn’t mess around.

He certainly hoped V’Zarrah was on their side, otherwise there was a good chance he wouldn’t leave this building alive. As it stood, one mistake and one suit rupture and he was dead. The full-body suit wasn’t uncomfortable, but he didn’t like the prospect of being on a planet which would kill him if he breathed the air.

Then again, this was what the Andromedons dealt with literally everywhere else, so perhaps he shouldn’t complain too much.

The Andromedon guards on the planet were also different than the ones that were normally seen on Earth. True, there _were_ some of the suited Andromedon Soldiers guarding the entrances and manning important equipment, but the vast majority of Andromedons were unsuited and wearing some more form-fitting clothing. Andromedons were very…spindly out of the suits. Definitely not a physical threat.

Some of them were cybernetically enhanced, especially in the eyes, but most seemed unaugmented. However, there were a _lot_ of unsuited guards who were numerous enough to have full patrols of ten around the docking area. Nartha walked into one of the doors marked “Client” in both Andromedon and Ethereal Script. The only other option was “Viarior Personnel”.

It was probably safer to choose the former.

The doors slid open as he entered, and he ignored the looks he received from the others in the room, the majority of whom were Andromedons of various Unions. However, all of them clearly saw the Zararch insignia on his shoulders. Even the Andromedons knew better than to interfere with Zararch operations.

There were a few suited Vitakara around, but he ignored them and let them deal with the various Andromedons. He stood in the line with the Andromedons as he waited for his turn to speak with Viarior Initial Management. To their credit, the Andromedons were efficient, going through clients, potential or otherwise, in mere minutes.

He did know something about how they operated. Initial Management was essentially scheduling appoints to make more permanent arrangements; it wasn’t exactly traditional customer service. They heard what you wanted, then scheduled you with someone who could discuss that, then one came back at that time.

There was a steady stream of Andromedons using the dozens of elevators that lined the walls of the room – a clever insulating tactic in the event of an attack – which took them to various floors. There were five hundred levels in total, with the elevators being able to reach speeds fast enough to bring a being from floor one to floor five hundred in five minutes.

However, he was already expected. He didn’t anticipate this would take especially long. The Andromedon in front of him finished, and Nartha stepped forward and rested his hands on the desk. “Zar’nartha’intha. I should be expected. A meeting with V’Zarrah.”

The Andromedon manager appraised him a few seconds as he manipulated the haptic display that was written fully in Andromedon, which Nartha was nowhere near fluent in. “The Zararch agent, yes. Your scheduled meeting is in two hours. It will be level two-fifty, there will be a Viarior Soldier to escort you to him. In the meantime you have authorization to walk the premises. Be advised there is a constant watch on all visitors.”

“Understood,” Nartha nodded. “Interesting. I would have thought V’Zarrah would have the highest floor.”

“Perhaps he does,” the Andromedon said with some annoyance. “But he wants to meet you there. The whereabouts and location of the leader of Union Viarior is not shared with anyone outside his inner circle and bodyguards. You already pose a security risk, be thankful he is willing to deal with the Collective at all.”

Nartha widened an eye, even though he knew the Andromedon couldn’t see it. “Given the level of security, the Imperator himself would have a difficult time here. But I will not pose any more of a security risk than I already do.”

He stepped away and another Andromedon immediately took his place. So, he had an invitation to explore, with drones probably watching his every step. Fair enough, he would be suspicious too. With that said, perhaps he could learn something by wandering around. The first thing to do would be to explore the defense pads, assuming he was allowed.

He walked to an elevator and selected the fifteenth floor. Given the absurd amount of floors in the building, he had to enter the number manually, instead of just selecting the floor. It also didn’t help that the elevator was in Andromedon numbers, but they were luckily in the same order.

As it also turned out, there was also an Andromedon guard in the elevator, and Nartha didn’t fail to notice the gas dispenser on the ceiling of the elevator box, and a tiny micro-turret in one of the corners, with a camera in the other.

He smirked under his helmet and shook his head in amusement. And he thought the Zararch were paranoid.

***

_Training Arena – The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_12/28/2016 – 10:18 A.M._

“I don’t think this is a fair fight anymore,” Nico said slowly, as the point of Yang’s weapon lightly jabbed into the back of his neck, while another one had the blade under his wrist which held his own weapon. “Fighting you up front is suicide.”

Yang smiled and recalled the weapons to her hand with a gesture, rather pleased with how she had been improving. Even better was that Nico was a fairly significant distance away from her, exactly the position she wanted him to be. She still had her standard telekinetic skills, and the more subtle manipulations of weapons were becoming close to a second nature.

Literal days of practice had that effect.

None of the Mutons or Vitakara posed a threat any longer, using weapons or no, handicapped or not; the only thing that would be able to provide a suitable challenge was another psion. Preferably one who was able to defend themselves. If there was one area she knew she could improve, it was in telepathic defense.

Although she didn’t know anyone she trusted enough to let into her mind. Because that was unfortunately a requirement.

“Looks like we have a watcher,” Nico said as he walked up, nodding to the edge of the area. Yang cocked her head and pursed her lips. Patricia Trask was leaning against the wall, just watching them, wearing the elaborate clothing of the Ethereals. It was somewhat uncanny how the Imperator had been able to determine their exact measurements.

He’d given her a similar piece of clothing, and she’d stuck to much less elaborate clothing even if it probably wasn’t as good. Wearing it once had been an unnerving experience because it was _too_ tailored to her, not a centimeter off. The only people who should know about that would be her husband (If she’d had one), her parents, and her stylist (Which she no longer had).

The Imperator was none of those things. And she didn’t want to think about how exactly he knew about it. Measurements were one thing, but when it came down to the damn _material_ and _color_ , very specific details she hadn’t told anyone, that crossed a line into somewhat creepy. Of course, the Imperator likely hadn’t intended to come off as a stalker, but that didn’t mean she had to wear it.

But Patricia seemed not to have that reservation. Good for her, and to the Imperator’s credit, it did look good on her. Definitely designed to command attention.

Well, she’d been avoiding actually meeting the esteemed guest of the Imperator, largely because she hadn’t cared all that much to begin with, and also because she didn’t want to see her at all. But she supposed it was only a matter of time until it happened. Nico seemed to think she was fine, and the kid had a decent ability to read people, but that didn’t really mean anything when the person in question was one of the most powerful telepaths Humanity had produced.

“Might as well say hello,” she sighed. Nico smiled as she walked over to the telepath. Yang wasn’t especially thrilled that Patricia was a notable few inches taller than she was, even when she was wearing much heavier armor. However, even if she wasn’t really a telepath she could easily sense that Patricia had a much more noticeable presence than Nico, even as powerful as he was.

Probably more training. “Hello, Yang,” she nodded. “We had to meet eventually, despite your attempts to avoid me.”

Yang narrowed her eyes. “Sorry, I was busy focusing on more important things. Another Human, regardless of if she’s supposedly important, didn’t concern me. Nothing personal.”

Patricia simply raised an eyebrow. “It’s not really recommended to lie to telepaths. Emotion sensing is one of the first things I taught myself.”

“Fine,” Yang shrugged. “I’ll be honest and say that I have no clue what the Imperator was thinking when he brought you here.”

Patricia actually looked somewhat solemn at that. “I see.”

That annoyingly piqued her curiosity. Which admittedly did exist regardless of if she wanted it or not. She had to admit that she wanted to know what the Imperator had said to make one of Humanity’s greatest warriors change sides. Assuming she _was_ on their side. “Well, do you know?”

“I think so,” she said slowly. “He told me some things…I needed to hear. I almost wished he hadn’t. I suspect he likely enticed you to stay as well.”

“Didn’t need to entice me much,” Yang said. “But yes; that seems to be a general theme. Imperator knows what we want, what’s important to us, and then gives us it.”

The woman opposite her cocked her head. “And you don’t think that’s manipulative?”

Yang snorted. “I’m not a moron, and I doubt you are either. There is not a damn thing the Imperator does which _isn’t_ manipulative in some way. He has his own agenda and plans, but he isn’t a liar. Not to me. So I don’t care, I’m happy to train and get ready to kill people on Earth.”

“Really.” Patricia said it as more of an observation, not like a question. She focused on the swords in her hand. “There was a telekine I knew which tried a similar technique. You’re much better at it.”

Yang suddenly chuckled as she knew what Patricia was talking about. “Oh, the one who tried throwing her swords at the Battlemaster? That was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. She should have stuck to throwing aliens in the air.”

“Ha ha,” Patricia said without humor. “Hilarious. She was a good woman though.”

“In XCOM? No,” Yang sheathed her swords. “Anyone who is in XCOM is definitely _not_ a good person, not anyone who works under the _Commander_. And don’t pretend like you don’t know who he is.”

Patricia sighed. “Most of the soldiers don’t, nor about our more…morally dubious actions either.”

“Hm,” Yang wondered if that was true or not. She didn’t see how word _wouldn’t_ get out in a much smaller organization like XCOM, but the Commander likely ran a tight ship. Or killed anyone who began asking questions. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. As long as the Commander is leading XCOM, they’ll just keep doing the same thing.”

Patricia looked mildly irritated at that. “Says the woman who openly states her intention to kill more Humans. A paragon of Humanity, you are.”

“Please,” Yang sniffed. “I never said I was a good person. But at least the people I kill will deserve it.”

“Who then?”

“The Chinese government to start with,” Yang ticked off. “Then ADVENT leadership. Probably a good number of soldiers. Then anyone who was part of the old government and system. All the cowardly and corrupt who looked the other way while regular people were pushed down, or victims of power plays.”

“Ah, so you’re a champion of the downtrodden,” Patricia nodded, and Yang couldn’t figure out if she was sarcastic or not. “More idealistic than I guessed.”

“I’m not doing it for anyone other than myself,” Yang shrugged. “Not anymore. People can’t be worse off under the aliens than they were under their own species. I’m not lying to myself; this is revenge, Trask, not anything more.”

She nodded slowly. “And you think every single person you will kill deserves it? Every soldier or politician?”

“Doubt it,” Yang admitted. “But it’s a necessary sacrifice. They are part of the old system, and the old system needs to be destroyed completely.”

Patricia now looked amused. “Funny. _Necessary._ That is very close to the justification the Commander used as he planned the destruction of the United Nations. He knew not everyone, or even most of them, were beyond redemption. But their deaths were necessary to usher in ADVENT.” She paused. “The point is that I don’t think you can use the Commander as some point against me when you seem to use his _exact_ logic.”

Yang had to admit that Patricia did raise a good point. One she hadn’t really thought about, largely because she didn’t know much about the Commander to begin outside his actions and reputation. But not necessarily _why_ he had taken the actions he had. She scowled. “For someone with us now, you sure don’t sound like one.”

“I’m most definitely _not_ on your side,” Patricia said. “Not yet, at least. I’m…staying for now. Seeing how things work, talking with people. I wish it was as simple as choosing a side, but this is unfortunately a…complex situation.” She looked away. “I wish it was as easy for me as it was for you.”

Yang might have made a sarcastic comment on that, but she didn’t really feel like doing it. Which was unlike her. Patricia definitely seemed…conflicted…even more questions as to why the Imperator was risking this, but it was definitely something that was bothering her. A lot. She was now both curious about what the Imperator had said that had made her reconsider her entire life, but at the same time wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Yang knew she was a useful weapon. She didn’t need to know the deepest secrets of the Imperator. Those seemed to be dangerous and bad for your mental stability.

“I did want to point out something,” Patricia focused back on her. “Your telepathic defenses are very weak.”

“I really hope you didn’t poke around in my head.”

“I don’t do that,” Patricia shook her head. “But it’s impossible not to notice. I’m sure Nico has as well, but he’s too nice to say anything. But if you don’t fix that, you’ll die against any competent telepath. I would be able to take control of you in a few seconds, no matter how fancy your swordplay is.”

“I’m aware,” Yang sighed. “But I don’t trust anyone to be poking around inside my head. Definitely not you.”

“Fair enough,” Patricia conceded. “But you’re not going to get better on your own, not really. If not me, then maybe ask Nico. He seems to get along well with you.”

Yang paused. “Perhaps. But it’s weird if it’s him. You know he’s just a kid, age-wise at least.”

Patricia shrugged. “I suppose you’ll have to decide if you’d rather not because it’s ‘weird’, or die when you fight a telepath. I’m sure the Imperator would be willing?”

A pause. “No.”

Patricia cracked a smile. “Well, if you change your mind regarding me, I could help.”

Yang appraised her suspiciously. “Oddly helpful for someone aligned against your friends.”

“Who knows?” Patricia said with a smile. “Maybe I want to give them a challenge. Or maybe what I teach you is flawed and will let them kill you easier. Up to you, but you’re not my enemy. Not yet, at least.”

She glared back at Patricia. “Very funny.”

“I’ll see you later, I think,” Patricia said with a farewell wave. “Good luck with the Battlemaster.”

“Yeah,” Yang was somewhat apprehensive as she knew what was coming. “I’ll need it.”

***

_Union Viarior Trade Command – Andromeda Prime_

_12/28/2016 – 3:02 P.M._

As it turned out, Nartha was _not_ allowed to view the defense platforms. Not unreasonable, but he had to admit to being somewhat disappointed. Well, he had certainly seen quite a bit of Trade Command regardless. There wasn’t too much of note that wasn’t either restricted or otherwise blocked. It was an exceptionally smooth operation, and most of the floors he visited had steady streams of traffic.

Now though it was time to actually meet V’Zarrah.

Stepping into floor 250 was little different initially from the other floors. All of them seemed to have a similar structure. A hallway which went around the perimeter, and had paths around four square rooms, four on the outside and one directly in the center. There were different markings and indicators on them, obviously, but the basic architectural layout was exactly the same.

However, this floor had Andromedon _Soldiers_ on it. Nartha doubted it was typical for the floor, but it certainly meant that V’Zarrah took his security seriously. Already four Soldiers were walking up towards him, and he saw no fewer than two Contamination Operatives standing in front of other paths. Several Battlefield Engineers were also accompanying the soldiers, their drones hanging in the background.

“Come with us, Zararch,” one of the unidentifiable soldiers ordered, voice low and booming. “No surprises.”

“Of course,” Nartha said, keeping his hands up so they saw he wasn’t armed. “You need to scan any electronics I have?”

The Andromedon motioned to one of the Battlefield Engineers who approached with his drone, which began floating around and scanning him. “One holoprojector, one datacube – encrypted. No weapons, explosives, or oxidizing agents.”

“The datacube is for V’Zarrah’s eyes only,” Nartha added. “It won’t be plugged into any Viarior devices.”

“Ethereal datacubes cannot be connected into our system regardless,” the Soldier said. “A security weakness. He poses little threat. Continue the escort.”

In the middle of the four Soldiers, they marched him to the center square room. Inside he was surprised to see nothing but a decontamination field which led to a circular tube. The rest of the room was a cold grey, and there were no fewer than six microturrets on the ceiling, and a small area where an armored Andromedon was operating the decontamination field.

“Step through and into the tube,” the Andromedon ordered, pointing with his weapon. “It will take you to V’Zarrah.”

Nartha nodded and stepped through slowly and deliberately. Since no alarms were raised he assumed it had gone alright. The steel tube opened up, and he stepped inside. So V’Zarrah wasn’t actually on this floor, but it was a ruse for anyone who might be listening. He didn’t exactly like being in a coffin-like tube, but he doubted anything would happen to him.

Wording flashed on a monitor at the top of the tube, thankfully Ethereal Script, which said _Microgravity Engaged_. He heard the start of a machine and he found himself weightless. It wasn’t quite like being in space, but he was lightly hovering off the ground. _Ah, clever_. Going up or down would be important information for anyone who intended to harm V’Zarrah.

If the individual didn’t know if they were going up or down, that piece of information was lost. Nartha knew the systems on here to maintain that must be at an extreme level of precision, as moving in either direction would pull a certain direction. Interesting.

It seemed slow as a result, and perhaps ten minutes later the gravity returned to normal and he was firmly on the floor. Nartha was fairly sure they had gone down, but thanks to that little security measure he didn’t know for sure. The door slid open and he stepped out into a similar room, minus any Andromedons and decontamination equipment.

There only seemed to be one path forward, and Nartha followed it as harsh white lights lined the top of the walls. Minutes later another metal door slid to the side and he stepped into what he presumed was the private office of V’Zarrah. To his surprise there was an entire wall of _physical_ documents and books, and opposite that was a massive screen showing the explored galaxy. Likely intractable as well.

V’Zarrah stood at the end of the room, in a full battle suit and standing in front of several holographic displays which were showing scrolling information in Andromedon. He also didn’t fail to notice the small armory behind him, openly displaying plasma rifles, grenades, and other destructive equipment. Even suit attachments were included.

“Zararch.” V’Zarrah shut down the display with a wave as he turned to fully face the Vitakarian. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before the Ethereals demanded a show of loyalty. Perform it, I have little to hide.”

Nartha tried not to focus on how much larger the Andromedon was than him. He could barely see the silhouette of the Andromedon within the suit, which was also looking down at him. “No need to be defensive, V’Zarrah, I don’t intend to cause unnecessary problems.”

“You may not, but the Ethereals do,” the Andromedon didn’t hide his irritation. “Both them and I know that the time I waste here could be put to better use. But instead they send their investigators to probe for non-existent problems.”

“Hardly non-existent, Overseer,” Nartha said, deciding to use his title. “Union Viarior was one of the Unions who voted against resuming military contributions to the Ethereal Collective. I’m sure you can see how that could look suspicious.”

“The Imperator did the bare minimum,” V’Zarrah answered bluntly. “And yet the Unions prefer to curry favor with them despite only having words as promises. Union Viarior would have preferred to see the Imperator’s words translate to _action_ before contributing further. The Ethereals have not been reliable partners in this endeavor, and I do not fear saying so. We were justified in our vote, and if they take issue with our politics they are welcome to speak to me in person.”

“I will make a note of that,” Nartha said. “However, there are other matters. There are…concerns…that Union Viarior is supplying and funding smaller Unions for their own purposes, some of which have been connected to the so-called “Sectoid Problem”. What is curious is that they are becoming more vocal and numerous, even as Viarior deepens connections.” He held up the datacube. “There is, of course, proof. The Zararch is skilled at disseminating data. I am sure this was done without your knowledge, but perhaps this should be investigated? The last thing the Collective needs right now is another war.”

It was as veiled a threat as he could make. Both of them knew very well that nothing happened in Union Viarior without the _Chief Logistics Overseer_ being aware of it. The idea that he _wouldn’t_ be aware of such actions was laughable. V’Zarrah’s suit was silent for a moment. “Union Viarior supplies and finances every single Union in the Andromedon Federation. That is our way of business. Their political platforms or how they use the equipment we supply them with is not our concern. I fail to see how this is a relevant concern.”

“Then I am sure you would suspend business with those the Collective has identified as… _troublesome_?” Nartha asked. “Ignorance is acceptable to a point, but knowingly funding potential dissidents would be…inadvisable.”

“No.” V’Zarrah stated bluntly. “Union Viarior keeps careful track of our clients. We will not break from them without reason. Certainly not at the whims of the Ethereals. Again, if the Ethereals wish to accuse me, they should do so in person.”

Well, this had gone on long enough. “I presume this room is secure, Overseer?”

“Yes.”

Nartha pulled out a holoprojector and activated it. “Then I presume you are aware of V’Thrask? An Andromedon who, along with a number of others – some of whom are also from Viarior – defected to XCOM during the Battle of Seattle. At your instructions.”

V’Zarrah was still, looking at the image of V’Thrask. “Where was this acquired, Zararch?” A pause. “The knowledge of Andromedon defectors would have reached me before _you_.”

Nartha smiled under his helmet. “From the Commander of XCOM himself.” He pressed another button on the holoprojector and the image of the Commander appeared, hands clasped behind his back as he began addressing the Andromedon leader.

 _“Chief Logistics Overseer V’Zarrah,”_ the Commander began. _“That is the title which was provided to me by V’Thrask, and I apologize if it is too forward. I am the Commander of XCOM, and currently enemy of the Ethereal Collective. I suspect by now you are aware of our alliance with Aegis, and the Imperator, or another Ethereal, has attempted to lessen the impact of this revelation.”_

The Commander paused. _“From what V’Thrask has told me, you are not impressed with Ethereal leadership. I suspect you have been told this war would be over in weeks or months. That we have no chance of success. However, I would claim the opposite. Despite what you have been told, we pose a threat to the unity of the Collective. We have pushed back the Battlemaster, the armies of the aliens, and our defiance has made…ripples across the Collective. Aegis is one of many aliens who are rejecting the Collective and seeing another way.”_

The image gestured behind him. _“Nartha is another, a double agent within the Zararch. I know you are no friend of the Collective. Your species and Union is threatened by the Ethereals and the Sectoids. As long as the Imperator is in power, there is nothing you can do. However, there are other paths to take. We need allies. So do you.”_

The Commander clasped his hands in front of him. _“We have means of infiltrating Collective territory. We can provide Union Viarior with technology and equipment beyond your own. We can provide psions. We can provide you with the tools necessary to ensure your Union will emerge from this conflict as the undisputed Andromedon power. And in return, all we require is your action against the Imperator when the time comes. We are in a lull in the war, a time of reflection and rebuilding. We are still confined to our planet, but that will not last forever.”_

The Commander gave a small smile. _“I would carefully consider this, V’Zarrah. Nartha has more details if you wish to converse further, and inside that datacube there is evidence of our capabilities. I see no reason for us to continue this farce of enemies, and I hope you feel similarly. Until then, I wish you good fortune in your endeavors.”_

The hologram shut off and Nartha lowered it as V’Zarrah was silent. “So,” he rumbled. “A Zararch traitor. I was skeptical such a thing was possible.”

“Most are,” Nartha nodded. “An oversight that will likely be corrected if I am ever discovered.”

“Give me the datacube,” the Andromedon said, extending a gloved hand. Nartha complied as he held it in his hand. “An…intriguing offer. One I did not anticipate.” He looked down at the Vitakarian. “But I suspect you will need…evidence to maintain your cover.”

“Correct,” Nartha nodded. “My orders were to search your databases for anything…suspicious. If nothing was found, documents of your transactions would be needed. I suspect you could forge them if necessary.”

“I am amused the Zararch would believe such a simple demand would suffice,” the Andromedon rumbled, possibly laughing. “I can provide the ‘evidence’ you need to show our innocence to the Zar’Chon. And I wish to meet with the Commander.”

“Good,” Nartha breathed in relief, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “On here is a secured network. I will contact you through it when the meeting is ready. On this topic…I don’t suppose there are other Unions who have similar reservations?”

“That is a discussion between me and the Commander,” V’Zarrah said slowly, turning away. “My people will provide you with the evidence. Leave me, I need to see what the Commander has provided me. I will await your response.”

With that, Nartha turned away and headed back to the tube, ecstatic at how well that had gone. Having one of the most powerful Unions as an ally was going to improve their chances significantly.

The Commander was going to be happy to hear it.

***

_Training Arena – The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_12/30/2016 – 8:20 A.M._

The Battlemaster supposed it was time he met the woman who the Imperator had suggested as a potential candidate for the Avatar Project. As far as candidates went, on paper she seemed to fill the requirements he would expect from one in her position. The daughter of a military general, a powerful telekine, physically capable, and willing.

What he didn’t know was if she could actually fight. He had little interest in strategists and leaders who failed to participate on the front lines. Human generals for the most part sent others to die in their wars, as they considered their own lives too important. He continued to find that stance amusing, as it proclaimed a self-importance that they couldn’t be replaced.

Tactics and strategy was not as difficult as military leaders liked to believe. It was a simple matter of assessing information and acting on it in the optimal manner. Logistics were arguably more important than pure strategy, and it certainly wasn’t a gift for the privileged few. No, actual military leaders needed to be warriors and involved beyond the situation room.

A climate-controlled area would never be anything close to resembling an actual battlefield. Reports never fully addressed the nuances of the true situation.

Nevertheless, he was mildly curious as to how Yang Shuren would have prepared. She would never be his equal in combat, but he at minimum expected her to be able to defend herself. At best she would surprise him. At worst she would die.

It had been a decent while since he had returned to the Temple Ship. It was far too quiet for his liking, but it was good for introspection. He wondered how different it would be if he was able to sense what the other psions did; the presence of the Imperator. He had heard descriptions of his power, but more importantly, seen it in action.

Yet the Imperator was not like most Ethereals, and the Battlemaster was unsure if that was an advantage or not. On one hand, he understood the need for aliens and abandoned the xenophobic policies of the Empire, but on another the Battlemaster did not understand his full plan. The Imperator was keeping things from him, moving pieces into play, executing hidden plans without his knowledge.

He trusted the Imperator, that had not changed. Yet he didn’t know if the Imperator fully understood what he was doing. He was barely over two hundred years old, little more than a young adult in the Empire. But he was now in charge of the last of the Ethereals. Even with the Overmind assisting him, the Imperator was a relative child in terms of his experience.

It made the Battlemaster feel unfathomably old. Hundreds of years of life seemed more apparent to him. He’d seen the Empire at its height, and watched its entire collapse. He’d outlived the vast majority of those he’d known, though most had been lost in battle. He’d had time to form his own ideals and opinions through the centuries.

The Imperator did not have that experience. He had the intellect and raw power, but the Battlemaster did not know if absolute power should have been given to him without question. The Empire had been desperate, but the Imperators were not all-knowing or powerful.

The Battlemaster would have personally preferred if the Overmind had initially taken control, or even Aegis. If someone with experience had taken control of forming the Collective, it might not be in the position it was today. The Imperator could take his position as a leader when he’d earned it. He had made too many missteps, mistakes that would and should not have happened under someone else.

Then again, it could be worse. Isomnum could have been placed in charge.

Or Quisilia.

But what was done was done. The Imperator was learning and eventually the Collective would be what it should have been from the start. He might have forced the Imperator’s hand in this instance, but it would lead to a stronger Collective, and the Imperator was aware he wasn’t perfect. He knew when he was wrong.

The Battlemaster didn’t like the Temple Ship for this reason. He became too focused on the failures of the Imperator and what could have been done instead. The entire concept of the Temple Ship seemed an unnecessary extravagance, a deification for some kind of god-like figure. The Battlemaster had been sorely tempted to smash some of the murals Cogitian had made.

He’d never bothered asking _why_ the Imperator needed such deification. What exactly _had_ the Imperator done to earn it? Because while the Battlemaster had killed his share of the Synthesized, he never found a need to brag about it. Especially when they _had lost the war_.

That was the thing which most irritated him. Not necessarily that such murals existed, but that they venerated a war when he had ultimately lost.

The idea that one would openly flaunt this was baffling. The millions of dead Synthesized meant nothing if the end result was defeat. The Temple Ship also seemed to serve little purpose other than to avoid contact with the rest of the Collective. Even the _Andromedons_ had a central location of government. The fear of assassination or attack was far too weak, and it seemed like the Imperator didn’t really care about maintaining his Collective when he could stay here and conduct his secret operations.

The Battlemaster shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside. He wasn’t thinking clearly right now. The first thing he would do was take Yang Shuren out of this place, assuming she lived. And she was going to be facing a moderately annoyed Battlemaster.

The woman in question was waiting at the edge of the arena. She fit the image he’d seen of her. Slightly taller than average for a female, Chinese ethnicity, cropped black hair, dark brown skin, younger-looking than her age suggested. She was in armor provided by the Imperator, grey with red tints and to some would look inspired by ADVENT armor.

The materials were undoubtedly better, however.

“Battlemaster,” she greeted respectfully. She spoke English, with a noticeable accent but easy enough for him to understand. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

“The idea was not my own,” he said bluntly. “However, I am willing to consider you upon the prodding of the Imperator. But you must know if this is something _you_ want. I will fight you momentarily, and if are not sufficiently skilled, you will die. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Battlemaster,” she confirmed. “I will do my best to assist you in whatever capacity you wish.”

He cocked his head. “I am not interested in blind subservience, Yang Shuren.”

“That was more to give you an indication of what I can do,” she corrected. “Be that fighting on the front lines or deciding how to cripple ADVENT. Trust me when I say I’ve been looking forward to both since I have arrived.”

“We shall see,” he withdrew his sword and held it beside him. “I do not expect you to beat me. Survive.” He thrust out with a lower arm and she went flying backwards. She unceremoniously slammed into the far wall, but quickly got back up, drawing both short swords from her back. Duel wielding was a curious choice, but not inherently bad if one was skilled enough.

The Battlemaster advanced forward, and Yang tossed the weapons into the air, which remained suspended as she reached out with a free hand and yanked back. His sword was suddenly yanked forward in her telekinetic grip which he had to physically tighten to maintain his control over. The two floating weapons sped towards him at the same time.

Now this was a technique he hadn’t seen in a long time. He vaguely recalled one of the Templars performing similarly, but Yang seemed more skilled at it. Unfortunately for her he was familiar with the style and knew its weaknesses. Two arms raised and telekinetically deflected the swords which flew behind him, and he let his sword go.

Yang surprisingly didn’t lose control of her sudden grasp on his weapon, and threw it as far across the room as possible as she focused on the Battlemaster himself. He very clearly felt the telekinetic grip encasing him; present but weak. One he could easily break free of if he wished, but he would rather she exhaust herself this way.

Her two floating swords returned, an impressive range of control, and sped towards his helmet as silver streaks. They halted just before his faceplate, in his own projected telekinetic field, and were directed towards his open palm which he grasped as Yang was hit with another telekinetic blast. Weapons in hand he sent them directed back towards her, which she froze with a raised hand as she struggled to get up.

At the same time he recalled his own blade to his hand, flourishing it as he closed in on the woman. He slashed down and she manipulated the blades to catch his own in a scissor maneuver while she quickly dashed away. He helped her along by catching her in a telekinetic grip, and slamming her into the wall.

Her control over the blades lost, the only thing which stopped his second downward swipe was her hands raised up as she telekinetically held the blade back, and redirected it into the wall while she hit him with her own telekinetic blast which barely made him stumble.

He’d done this long enough. She was competent, and would survive against most opponents. A Battlemaster was not a fair match for anyone, but she had performed decently. Enough where there was potential for her to become far better. He lifted her telekinetically and rested the tip of his sword on her throat.

She didn’t look afraid so much as resigned, even as she continued to make indirect telekinetic assaults. Fighting to the last. Good. He withdrew the blade and let her fall to the ground. “You have potential, and can be better. Come with me.” She coughed, but summoned her own weapons back to her hand as she followed him, clearly relieved.

“Tha-thank you,” she coughed. “Where are we going?”

“Away from here,” he answered. “We do not hide in the shadows. The Collective is our responsibility, and we must be a part of it. Is there anything you need from here?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m fine with just leaving this place.”

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_1/3/2017 – 8:28 P.M._

Duri wasn’t sure why he had bothered actually issuing this challenge to begin with. With a smirk on her face Aleksandra easily maneuvered his arm to rest flat on the table. To his credit, at least he hadn’t gone down easily. But a regular arm against a mechanical arm was almost doomed to fail. The rest of his squad laughed at the ending.

“You lose,” Aleksandra said. “Like everyone else.”

“I blame all of you,” Duri said, rolling his eyes at his so-called squadmates. “What made you think that _I_ could beat her? _Cara_ is probably stronger than I am!”

“Hey, maybe we all would have weakened her,” Beatriz shrugged. “Not fair if you get out of doing it too.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled good-naturedly. He was pretty sure most of them were jealous of the Shieldbearer’s new arm, since it seemed much better than their weak flesh ones. All of them were in pretty good spirits, especially since there hadn’t actually been much alien activity for close to a month. It was a little strange, but something Duri wasn’t going to complain about.

The lull had been great, in fact. He’d been able to speak with his family much more regularly, ADVENT was getting ready to roll out new upgrades, there were even a few alien defectors who were getting more acquainted with the soldiers. At least now he could attest to that not _all_ of them were bad.

Overall, he was suspicious in thinking that things were going really, really well, but they certainly seemed to be. They were at least all alive, which was more than he could say for a lot of aliens, and unfortunately a good number of humans. But the casualty numbers could be much, much higher.

“Oh, did you know what _I_ had to do today?” Nobuatsu asked, as they ended and all got drinks.

“Don’t drag it out, just tell us,” Miguel said.

“I had to treat an alien,” Nobuatsu continued. “For _chocolate poisoning._ ”

Duri snorted. “The hell?”

“Oh! I’ve heard of that,” Beatriz recalled brightly. “Isn’t it poisonous to them?”

“Poison? Not exactly,” Nobuatsu explained, gesturing aimlessly. “It’s like marijuana for them. Although they can overdose with it as I found out. The alien was high as a kite when he came out of the anesthetics, couldn’t understand a word he was saying.”

“Who was the one who gave chocolate?” Cara asked. “Some prank?”

“No, just a mistake,” he said. “One of the soldiers gave him some to ‘expose him to real human food’.”

“And that is why regulations like “Don’t share food with aliens” exist,” Duri finished. “None of you better be feeding aliens.”

“You make it sound like they’re some kind of zoo animals,” Cara snorted, miming a deeper voice. “ _Please do not touch, feed, or entice aliens you encounter.”_

“I swear we’re going to get a TV show like this if they ever get their own town or something,” Beatriz said. “ _Today we observe the Vitakarian in his natural habitat…”_

All of them laughed at the absurd concept. “Don’t think ADVENT would like that,” Duri chuckled. “Although who knows. Have any of you seen that XCOM show?”

“Oh, god,” Cara facepalmed.

“You mean the best and most realistic show ever to grace the medium?” Beatriz asked sarcastically. “Oh _yes_.”

“I hate that show so much,” Miguel said. “I swear it’s like every single character has magic armor and can’t be killed.”

“It’s called plot armor,” Cara supplied.

“I don’t know about you,” Beatriz said. “But when I saw the Commander of XCOM tank six missiles, and then proceed to rip the spine out of an Ethereal, I was on board. You can’t tell me that isn’t awesome.”

“Nah, my favorite part is when that Korean lady single-handedly took out an _entire_ UFO alien team,” Nobuatsu said. “And when she blew it up, she said to that guy she was with “I guess their plan…blew up in their faces.””

“Pure poetry,” Miguel shook his head in disbelief. “Where did they even find people to write this?”

“The whole team is a bunch of comedy writers,” Beatriz said. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to turn a show about _XCOM_ into an over-the-top comedy, but they completely pulled it off.”

“I also like how they somehow made the character who is _totally_ not Patricia Trask even more overpowered,” Duri added. “I mean, being able to control armies is clearly not cool enough, no, give her…” he looked at Beatriz. “What did you call it?”

“Exterminatus powers,” she supplied.

“That,” Duri finished with a nod.

“Having Quisilia being the one to defect instead of Aegis was great,” Cara added.

“I’m not so sure that isn’t him,” Duri said slowly. “I mean…would it be surprising if he _was_ playing himself?”

“That’s not happening,” Beatriz began, then frowned. “I…think…”

“I wonder what XCOM thinks about it,” Miguel said. “They are either really insulted or really amused.”

“How could they _not_ like it?” Beatriz asked. “Real life is depressing. We’ve already got a realistic alien invasion going on. Why bring that to a TV show?”

“That…” Miguel frowned. “Is a good point.”

Duri tapped the table. “All right, I’m turning in. Drills tomorrow bright and early. And next time it comes on we’re all watching the next episode together, since apparently we all do anyway.”

Cara gave a mock salute. “Copy that, Officer.” All of them gave their goodnights, and most turned in for the night. All in all, a fun time. There were a few bright spots in this war, even if they were few and far between.

***

_Seoul – South Korea_

_1/8/2017 – 11:49 P.M._

This was perhaps the worst plan in the history of plans, maybe ever.

The Hunter cared about very little in the world. As far as he was concerned nothing really mattered except what he wanted. The Ethereals, Humans, Collective and ADVENT, ultimately pointless and worthless groups that would eventually fade away. The only thing he could really say he enjoyed was the art of killing. Maybe it was a genuine feeling; maybe he’d just been designed to feel the rush of euphoria when he blew the head off something.

It didn’t really matter. Killing made him feel alive. Who or what it was didn’t matter as long as it was alive and prey.

With that said, he wasn’t an idiot.

Right now he definitely could _not_ say that for the illustrious bitch herself.

He was on top of a skyscraper, looking through the scope of his rifle onto a hotel which was housing displaced civilians from the south of the country. There was much less security now, especially since the Collective had been doing fuck all the past month. But there were…he paused, thinking of the number.

Ah right. Over three thousand, according to the information the Caretakers had shared. Three thousand, four hundred and eleven. How the hell they knew that was something he’d given up on long ago. The Caretakers always had eerily accurate and exact knowledge, and the less he was involved with those freaks, the better.

He had been given the dubious honor of being responsible for clearing the hotel in question. Some were marked to be captured, for whatever horrific fate awaited them in the ironically named _Paradise_ , and the rest he was free to murder. In one of the few times of his life, he was conflicted.

Not because he was going to kill hundreds of Humans in their sleep, he didn’t care at all about that. There was something of a thrill in the operation, he wouldn’t lie, but it didn’t override his more important sense of self-preservation. Namely, that the moment the Battlemaster found out about this – and he _would_ find out one way or another – he could safely assume he would either be killed or kept in constant torture forever.

Neither option was appealing.

At the same time, going against the illustrious Creator was not an option, since no matter how bad the Battlemaster was, the Creator would somehow find a worse punishment. So in short, he was completely fucked regardless. And now he was frantically thinking about the best way to salvage this so he wouldn’t be screwed.

In all honesty he was probably screwed one way or another. So the current plan was to carry out the Creator’s plan (Of which he had no fucking idea what the goal was aside from getting her more Humans to experiment on), be sure to get footage of him following orders, then go to the Battlemaster and ask very politely to not be disemboweled.

The Battlemaster was a reasonable Ethereal, a rarity, and he could at least understand the delicate predicament he was in…or perhaps not.

The Hunter hadn’t actually considered the idea that the Battlemaster wasn’t actually aware of what was going on in Paradise. He’d always assumed, since the Battlemaster was as close to the leader of the Collective (The Imperator wasn’t worthy of the title) as anyone. But if he _didn’t_ know…oh boy, the Creator would be lucky to not immediately be executed.

He grinned a sinister smile as that thought entered his mind. If anyone could put a stop to whatever the fuck was happening with the Creator, it would be him. Normally he wouldn’t care, but there was a point where the stuff that happened there was plain _unnatural_. It went far beyond the corpse-looking Caretakers. It went far beyond the dozens of test subjects being subjected to every kind of torture.

No, the Creator was involved in something much older and dangerous. He didn’t know what it was, but it was perhaps the only thing that terrified him. An endless void which had once touched his mind, promising comfort, joy, and love to him. It had taken a full week to shake the persistent voice in his head, and he’d almost shot himself in it just to make the dangerously tempting words stop.

After that he’d never gone beyond the first level again.

He stood, and walked to the robed figure. It was a Vitakarian, or at least, was supposed to be. The skin looked dead, the figure was gaunt and it wore little more than a full black robe with the gibberish of the Creator written in silver. “Six rooftop guards,” he reported. “Standard guard. I can take them out easily.”

“Unnecessary,” the voice was cracked and raspy, though with undertones of authority. “Four are marked for retrieval. You will execute the unmarked.”

“Right…” he drawled. “And I suppose you’ll just mark them for me?”

The alien lashed forward with a hand and placed it on his temple. The Hunter found he couldn’t move, even if it only lasted for a moment. “You know now,” the Caretaker said. “Prepare to return the souls to Him.”

And he _knew_ now. He glanced back to the rooftop and somehow knew which ones were marked for death, and which were to be extracted. “What now?”

The Caretaker gestured, and beside him a blue-rimmed portal appeared, psionic mist obscuring where it had come from, but more Caretakers stepped out, far more than he had ever seen before. Lanky and thin Sectoids who looked based on the Vanguard template, also wearing black robes. Humans were also in their number, their eyes pale and hair grey; looking somehow more degraded than the Vitakarians.

There were a total of twenty of them. One of the Humans, a decomposing female, extended a hand towards the hotel and began speaking in some language that made his skin crawl. It sounded _old_. Old and primal. Even the damn _Sectoid_ had joined along telepathically. “They have deafened the world to our presence,” the Vitakarian Caretaker said. “Go. Accomplish your mission. The world will not hear the misguided cries of those who are still mortal.”

“What about cameras? Alarms?” He asked, gripping his pistol.

“The Stalkers have neutralized them,” the Caretaker stated with surety. The Hunter had no clue what the hell a Stalker was, but perhaps he didn’t need too. As long as they did their job, it wasn’t his business. “His will is absolute and final. There is no obstacle.” Another portal materialized. “Now enter and begin.”

Here went nothing. The Hunter stepped through and found himself on the roof. Now, he had several ways of carrying this out. He could be stealthy and take them out with a little telepathic trick he’d learned, or he could do it the fun way.

Might as well, the Caretakers certainly didn’t know the meaning of the word.

He raised his pistols, and began firing at the guards. It was sad how slow they were as he shot the weapons out of their hands, shot their kneecaps out, and then followed up with any arm or hand which moved towards a weapon. In roughly ten seconds the entire rooftop team was neutralized. He twirled a pistol in his hand before blowing off the head of one marked for death, and following up with killing the other one with a shot to the throat.

_Perfect shot._

A portal appeared in the center of the roof and the Caretaker stepped out, now with several _Muton_ Caretakers, which wore light armor instead of just robes. They looked just as healthy as the rest of them, which was to say like a recently exhumed corpse. They grabbed the wounded ADVENT soldiers and dragged the screaming people back to the portal before throwing them into it.

Poor souls.

The Caretaker once again placed a hand on the Hunter’s helmet. “Your next targets.”

He was not going to get used to the sudden transfer of knowledge anytime soon. Shaking that off, he entered the top floor and considered where to start. Thanks to the uncanny abilities of the Caretakers, he somehow knew every single name on this floor and their room number. Well, he might as well start at the beginning.

He gave a polite knock and the idiot Human opened. A woman whose eyes widened before he blew her head off in a spray of red. Only occupant and marked for death. Time to move on.

The Hunter had a plan of action, he would target all of the rooms with single occupants first, the vast majority of whom he could just kill, then move onto the rooms with more than one occupant. It proceeded smoothly enough, although he had to make some forced entries. It was amusing to see their terrified faces right before they died.

The Caretaker appeared at the end of the hallway, portal working as he brought the targets and ended up just tossing them in the portal which likely went straight to Paradise. He continued with the rooms of multiple occupants. One had a small group of women, half of whom he shot. Another had a family which only the mother was required to be captured. One room was just older human children with some younger siblings. Not much of a challenge.

Even on the first floor he was picking up on something rather interesting.

Nearly _all_ of these Humans seemed to have some connections to a soldier. In certain cases it was clearly a mother or father with some children, or it was a spouse. But it was an extraordinarily high number of coincidences. If the Creator was being bold enough to target the families of soldiers…well, he wished her good fortune when the Battlemaster found out.

One floor was cleared, and he moved to the next one. Same deal, the Caretaker transferred the knowledge to his mind and he got to work. One door he just kicked in. This one had a mother with two children. Only the older child needed to be kept alive. The woman shrieked before he ended her life, and quickly ended the life of the smaller girl sleeping on the bed before pressed a hand to the mouth of the other one, sending a telepathic sleep command.

Loud children were far to annoying to deal with.

He tossed her into the portal, and continued working. The more he continued, the less fun it became. He now remembered why he rarely bothered killing civilians. They didn’t pose a threat, they usually just accepted their fate and died, and basically made his job easy. Which made it _boring_. There weren’t any _actual_ fighters around to be outraged, which was half the fun of killing civilians.

So he had to be creative. He took out an entire floor without his guns, and then another just by using whatever was in the room. Scissors, as it turned out, were highly versatile weapons. At this point he was shooting into the air, or just opening the doors and calling people out to fight him to see if there was at least _some_ entertainment to be had.

It was slightly enjoyable when he managed to get an entire floor to gang up on him. Some rushed him with makeshift weapons, others simply tried protecting children (Which he shot first if they weren’t marked, since they screamed), and he had some good fun as he ended their lives or crippled them before their one-way trip to hell.

“You are efficient,” the Caretaker said as they reached the tenth floor. “The Creator will be pleased.”

“My life’s goal has been achieved,” he answered sarcastically. “We’re good on time? Status of other operations?”

“Occidera has nearly cleared her building,” the Caretaker answered. Shocking, his all-serious sibling was going to beat him in efficiency. Well, good for her. “Senorium is finishing the last fifteen floors of his building. We have three hours before our window has expired.”

And also a shock, his more idiotic and fanatic sibling was taking forever. Either way, it didn’t matter. That little bit of recording was going to be very interesting to the Battlemaster. “You know why the Creator wants this many people?”

“No,” the Caretaker said. “And you do not need to know.”

And irrefutable proof the bitch herself was behind this. The Battlemaster was going to have a field day with it, and would probably murder her. The Hunter was quite aware that the only thing that would make the Battlemaster more livid than going after families of soldiers (And probably families in general), was going after kids.

And there were a lot of both who were dead. He didn’t care, but there were definitely those who did. As far as he was concerned, every person he shot or captured was another mark to the Creator’s death warrant.

It would be so ironic if he was the one to finally bring her down. That was the dream.

He looked to the hotel hallway that awaited him. More targets and walking dead left to deal with.

Time to make that dream into reality.


	38. Paradise

 

_ADVENT Headquarters – Switzerland_

_1/9/2017 – 8:11 A.M._

Saudia felt numb as she looked at the plethora of pictures and reports from the massacre. The calm of ADVENT had been shattered in one of the most horrific displays she had ever borne witness to in her life. She had certainly been party to some distasteful events, and the Commander was no stranger to the effectiveness of brutality.

But it was nothing compared to this.

“How many?” She asked quietly.

Kyong, Stein, and Elizabeth were in front of her, all in their own stages of coping. Kyong was teetering on the edge of composed and broken; he was a civilian with no experience in dealing with traumatic events. But he needed to know the situation to coordinate ADVENT’s message. And there was no better way than to have him _see_ what had happened.

Stein was clearly furious, but composed. Saudia supposed her long law career had allowed her to build a tolerance to shocking imagery, especially to do with children. Her first act had been to lock down the entire city, with over five thousand Peacekeepers being moved to ensure that everything was accounted for. All aliens in ADVENT were currently being subjected to Deacon and Inquisitor interrogation.

Objectively, Saudia suspected that the defectors had nothing to do with this, but there was _someone_ that needed to be blamed, and the first thing people would suspect was not just aliens, but the aliens ADVENT had been moving to integrate. Getting them out of the way immediately would both buy time from a PR perspective and find out any perpetrators if they _did_ exist within the ranks.

Elizabeth was impassive, but Saudia knew she was taking this as a message. And she was shaken. Having children herself, she knew they were targets for anyone who wanted to get to her. The fact that this had happened with _no_ alarms or failsafes being tripped meant that the aliens could very well get into anywhere, anytime.

It felt both morbid and in bad taste that Saudia wondered if they should be thankful they had _only_ targeted civilians. It could have very easily been any one of them.

“Numbers are still being counted,” Stein answered, handing her the tablet she’d been holding. “Over six thousand so far. Three locations, all packed with civilians from the south of Korea.” She flipped though some of the photographs. “Killings are indiscriminate. Men, women, children, no obvious preference or goal. Causes of death range from apparent suicide to being bludgeoned with a couch.”

“Disagree,” Elizabeth said flatly, setting her own tablet down. “I’ve run the lists. The vast majority of people who were in the attacked buildings were the families or relatives of currently serving soldiers. This wasn’t a random attack.”

“God damn it,” Kyong muttered. “When they learn they died this way…”

“We’re going to need a lot of counselors to keep them from killing themselves,” Saudia finished grimly. “Or aliens. As far as telling them…that I will leave to Laura. They’ll have to be told but…there really isn’t a good way to share the news.”

“I’m also going to add that there definitely seemed to be different teams leading each of the attacks,” Stein continued. “The wounds seemed tailored to the location. In one the main cause of death was precise stabbings, dismemberments, and quite frankly, clean kills. Another one had a mixture of deaths that seemed to be caused via psionics, and multiple self-inflicted casualties. The final one was a mixture of firearm deaths, melee combat, and everything in between.”

“So whatever did this used small or single teams,” Saudia grunted. “And were also highly skilled.”

“Definitely couldn’t have been alone,” Stein shook her head. “They would have needed to neutralize security, alarms, and everything else. All footage was wiped and the drives just _gone_. This wasn’t done by teams of one.”

“Three teams,” Elizabeth muttered coldly. “With three distinct methods of killing. Gee, I wonder who _that_ fucking reminds me of.”

“Those Chosen?” Saudia recalled. “Even they couldn’t pull this off on their own. And we already know it was the aliens.”

“I’m aware,” Elizabeth said. “I’m just planning how best to torture them when I’m done extracting what I need.”

“I’m also afraid the deaths are just part of the story,” Stein sighed, pursing her lips. “There are a good three thousand unaccounted for. They’re just gone. No trace.”

“This reminds me of the old abductions before the invasion,” Elizabeth said. “Only back then the aliens were more subtle and just kidnapped everyone.”

That was something she was partially confused by. “They wanted to send a message, but also acquire more…prisoners. Doing both seems…odd. They could achieve more by focusing on one or the other. Was there anything special about the missing persons?”

“Couldn’t find anything,” Elizabeth shook her head. “This had absolutely nothing to do with getting more prisoners, or let’s be real, _test subjects_ , and everything to do with sending a message. They took just enough that the vast majority are corpses, and they’ll be considered the _lucky_ ones because the few who are now captives of the aliens are likely being eviscerated.”

Saudia grimaced. “Unfortunately accurate.”

“I don’t get this,” Elizabeth muttered. “It makes no sense. The aliens gain _nothing_ from this. Not to mention this seems _extremely_ out of character for the Battlemaster. Especially since his dossier explicitly states he doesn’t kill kids.”

“Do you really think this would happen without his approval?” Saudia asked. “Something like _this_?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps he was overruled.”

“That does not matter,” Stain growled. “This came at the hands of aliens. There needs to be retribution. Justice for those who were slaughtered.”

“That will be demanded,” Kyong agreed. “And I cannot blame them. This can’t go unpunished.”

“How?” Saudia sighed. “We’re stuck on Earth, our military is out of position for a lighting strike, and places to attack are limited. The only option is to crack down on alien defectors, and I won’t do that without evidence, no matter how much people want that.”

“We have POWs,” Stein said. “Not defectors. Ones we captured. Interrogate them, sentence them, and execute them. Skin or chop them into pieces and send them to alien strongholds, along with videos of their torture. Or give them to some of the soldiers whose families were murdered. Cull the aliens who are useless to us, and show the aliens there are consequences to this kind of attack.”

“I’d stop short of skinning them,” Elizabeth cautioned. “ADVENT is not like that. But executing them and sending their bodies to the aliens isn’t a bad response. She’s right that they don’t provide us with anything useful aside from potential bartering chips.”

“Bartering chips for what?” Stein snorted. “The aliens aren’t giving any of our people back. You’re deluded to think otherwise. And we must also send a message. Execution is tame compared to what they deserve.”

“We’re not going to kill our POWs,” Saudia shook her head. “Yet. That will be used as propaganda against us, and while I’m sure it would be cathartic…these aliens are almost certainly not behind it, not to mention it doesn’t do much aside from sate public bloodlust.”

“So what do you propose?” Stein asked.

“The aliens have cities they control,” Saudia stated. “I want Sacramento leveled. Missile strikes, bomber runs, whatever it takes to level it. One attack, then we relent before an escalation. I do not believe that the Collective will retaliate, not for this. I will order Laura to have this executed by the end of today.”

“Acceptable,” Stein nodded. “This calls for a response. This will be stronger than simply killing captured aliens.”

“Indeed,” Kyong nodded. “Let them know the payment for this atrocity.”

“Another thing,” Saudia said. “I want every single image and report sent to every government around the world. Let them see how their neutrality holds in the face of that. I also want the less…gruesome images on the news. I want it on every screen and everyone to know this is what the aliens will do to us.”

Elizabeth gave a single nod. “Ones with children included?”

“Yes.”

“What else?” Kyong asked.

“A special letter drafted to the nations of the so-called Sovereign African States,” Saudia said. “As well as the rest of the continent. They are to turn over all former ADVENT traitors within one month or ADVENT will annex their countries. All ADVENT defectors and traitors are now enemies of the state, and will be captured, tried, and executed.”

“Gladly,” Kyong said. “I’m surprised you let them survive this long.”

“There were more important matters,” Saudia said humorlessly, even as the corners of her lips turned up. “But I am done tolerating them. Betos will be the last executed. I want her to watch all those who followed killed in front of her.”

Kyong frowned. “Would that be legal?”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Stein added with her own humorless smile. “Her punishment can be specifically worded to…include something akin to this. Completely legal.”

“Excellent.”

“In the meantime, I will address the public,” Saudia rubbed her forehead to clear her thoughts. “It’s not going to be pleasant.”

“Has XCOM said anything?” Elizabeth asked.

“Not yet,” Saudia answered, also wondering what the situation there was. “But knowing the Commander, anything we’re going to do will pale in comparison to what he has planned.”

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_1/9/2017 – 9:22 A.M._

Confusion and fury.

That was what the Commander was feeling at this very moment. This made no sense, but at the same time, what better way to send a message? In all honesty, it was justified in a way if he thought about it. First Aegis, now Caelior, there was room for a response. But a response like _this_? Not even against ADVENT proper?

He supposed it didn’t matter the reason or justification behind it.

Only the response mattered.

“What are we going to do about this?” Creed finally asked, saying what they all were thinking.

“I have some ideas,” the Commander sharply turned back to the holotable. “Chronicler, can you transport a small team to Vitakar?”

“Possibly,” the older man nodded, not wearing his armor at this point. “What are you thinking?”

“A simple solution,” the Commander said neutrally. “We wipe out the Aui’Vitakar. We have salted nukes. Providing them to the Nulorian would provide cover. They would of course wonder, but it would just be an interesting coincidence.”

“I’m not sure that is…the best response,” Shen said slowly. “While there needs to be retribution, there may be a more effective way of carrying it out aside from killing innocent aliens-“

“They are part of the Ethereal Collective,” the Commander growled. “Ignorance is no longer an excuse. They are complicit and will be treated as such. The Sectoids and Andromedons won’t succumb to terror or loss easily, but the Vitakara will be shaken and broken from so many dead. They would serve as an effective response to the Imperator.”

“Or it will just make them hate us,” Shen countered. “As horrible as it is, I don’t think anyone on Vitakar actually sanctioned this. Do you think they actually _know_ the reason, or will they see it as just an attack with no justification?”

“I agree with Shen,” Aegis finally said. “The Battlemaster would never have sanctioned this attack. He would never sanction the assassination and abduction of children. Not when he’s in charge.”

“Do you really believe he didn’t know?” Vahlen demanded. “Something like _this_?”

“He would never approve it,” Aegis repeated. “Even if it came from the Imperator. I do not believe this is as clear as it seems.”

“That doesn’t matter,” the Commander pointed out. “Even if he refused to carry out the order, there is nothing stopping the Imperator from taking command himself. This is clearly orchestrated by the Collective, like it or not. And given how it was carried out, the Overmind or Imperator _had_ to be involved since no one noticed it.”

“But _what do they gain from this_?” Aegis demanded, stepping forward. “There was no reason to carry this out, and neither the Imperator nor Battlemaster operate through terror. All it does is further unite your species and drive up anti-alien sentiment. The Imperator is not a fool, I cannot believe he’d sanction this.”

“Let us look at the facts,” Zhang interrupted, setting his tablet down. “Based on the autopsies and reports from both the Peacekeepers and ADVENT Intelligence, there were three separate attacks, and in each location the causes of death varied. Which so happens to match up with the Chosen. The majority of civilians were killed, many of whom were related to soldiers in ADVENT, and several thousand were abducted. The goal of this attack was terror, and I see two probable suspects behind this.”

“Isomnum and the Creator,” the Commander finished, frowning. “This does fit Isomnum, but I don’t see why he would risk reprisal from the Battlemaster or Imperator in carrying this out.”

“What about the Creator?” Jackson asked.

“The Creator is of deteriorating intelligence and growing sadism,” Aegis said. “But she is no fool, and I doubt she even cares about Earth. She is too focused on her own work, and I suspect orchestrating such an operation would be outside her interests. Her Chosen clearly work with the Collective upon request. Isomnum could have requested them.”

“I doubt it’s the Creator too,” the Commander said, shaking his head. “She’s a scientist, not a schemer or tactician. Even if she wanted test subjects, so do Isomnum, Revelean, and Fectorian, and I doubt the latter two would follow this route either.”

“As twisted as the Creator is,” Aegis agreed. “This is not her. But this _does_ fit Isomnum.”

“Is he that skilled to pull this off at three separate locations?” Creed asked. “And have the manpower too?”

“Absolutely,” Aegis sighed. “Remember, he was an Overmind. This would not be a challenge for him.”

Creed rubbed his forehead. “Wonderful.”

“The problem is we don’t know,” the Commander muttered. “Isomnum is an easy scapegoat, but that might be intentional. Easy to pin the blame on rogue operators acting on the orders of ones above them. Trust me, I _ran_ these kind of operations for the US for years. They work.”

“This is where it would help having spies in the aliens,” Zhang noted. “With inside information we would be able to determine the general mood. Right now we have nothing but speculation.”

“Aegis, how likely is it that the Battlemaster would know about this?” The Commander asked. “Would he attempt to deny it if he wasn’t behind it?”

“In a situation like this, yes,” Aegis said. “I doubt he knew about it, and he is likely furious. If he did not know…we will know shortly.”

“I want to return to your earlier plan for Vitakar,” Shen said. “While at this point I feel indiscriminate attacks would do more harm than good, you are right in that they are a more empathetic species. This would likely horrify them, especially if they were associated with it. Instead of bombing them, why not show them what is happening?”

“It would force the Zararch to crack down,” Zhang said slowly. “But we have psions. They do not. And I don’t think anyone would care if a few were killed in the process.”

The Commander considered for a moment. “Fine. We hold off on bombs for now. Let’s see if the Collective responds. If it appears the Battlemaster was not aware of it, or behind it, we go forward with your idea, Shen.”

“And anything else?” Jackson asked.

“Not immediately,” the Commander said. “But if it isn’t the Battlemaster, it’s almost assuredly Isomnum. And when we capture him, he is going to wish he was dead.”

***

_Tactical Briefing Room, Solar System Command Center – Mars Collective Base_

_1/9/2017 – 10:02 A.M._

“I didn’t order this,” Ravarian said, swallowing as the Battlemaster approached him, his sword drawn. “This would never be launched without your approval-“

“Then _who did_?”

“No one here,” Ravarian said quickly. “Trust me, I’ve interrogated anyone who could have possibly organized it, and even then, none of them _could_ launch it without my approval. You can check the logs and correspondences. The Zararch didn’t do this, and more importantly, there is no _reason_ to do this. What exactly do we _gain_ here?”

“The Zar’Chon is innocent here, Battlemaster,” Quisilia stepped out of thin air in front of him. “As is the Zararch. And from what I can tell, anyone else who could authorize something like this.”

The Battlemaster stopped, and just glared at Quisilia. “So this just happened out of nowhere? It’s all deception?”

“That…” Ravarian coughed as he continued with a theory that had been growing. “May be the case. The Collective clearly did not cause this, but the Commander _has_ performed multiple false flag operations before. The United Nations, the Council. Chancellor Vyandar was also behind the collapse of Brazil, and the Middle East incident. The Commander in particular understands the power of brutality. It isn’t out of the question that this is a propaganda attempt to drive up support for ADVENT.”

“Not a bad theory,” Yang Shuren, the Human that the Battlemaster was now allowing around him for whatever reason, spoke up. He was unsure _why_ the Battlemaster was letting her participate, but he was not stupid enough to ask questions like that now. “But this doesn’t fit the Commander. Not really. He doesn’t just do stuff like this without reason. Let’s be honest – ADVENT isn’t exactly hurting for support right now. They’re enjoying what they have now. Why would they need _more_? Everyone on Earth already thinks you’re the enemy to some degree. This has too much of a chance of backfiring to be the Commander, and not solid enough reasons.”

“Your expert analysis is appreciated, Miss Shuren,” Ravarian said keeping his sarcasm down. “And I would contest that by saying that the issue ADVENT faces is that we are not _enough_ of a threat yet. There are still many countries who don’t wish to join, including many European, African, and South American nations. An attack like this drives up fears, and encourages unity.”

“Then why not do this in one of those countries?” Yang asked. “If that was the goal, would it not be more effective if it _wasn’t_ in ADVENT?”

“Perhaps,” Ravarian conceded. “But you can’t disagree that it is easier to set up in ADVENT.”

“Yes, if you’re cheap,” Yang rolled her eyes. “Or lazy. Are those words you ascribe to ADVENT?” One of the swords floated to her hands. “Be honest. Name _one_ nation that ADVENT _wouldn’t_ be able to do this to? Who could _possibly_ stop an operation like this enhanced with _psions_?”

“The Humans have used this already as an excuse to escalate the fight again,” Ravarian pointed out. “The Sacramento base is _gone_. Completely. They seem to think that we won’t retaliate for this, and at this point, it appears to be accurate. Not responding to such an attack sets a disturbing precedent. We cannot just allow our bases to be destroyed with no response.”

“This was not ADVENT,” the Battlemaster spoke. “The targets were specific. Families of soldiers. There are too many downsides to their intentional deaths to be worth it. There were easier targets. I agree with Yang. Neither ADVENT nor XCOM had reason to do this. The military strike is a reflex. There will be no response from us.”

Ravarian sighed. “Fine, then who was it? It clearly wasn’t us.”

“I don’t know,” the Battlemaster admitted slowly. “But I am going to do two things. Prepare to broadcast a statement to Earth. They will not believe us, but I will deny it all the same, and I suspect Aegis will come to the same conclusion. Then I will find who is behind this, execute them, and send their body to the Humans with the extracted confession. This will not be tolerated.”

“Understood,” Ravarian said. That was as solid a plan as he could think of. He wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a false flag attack, but did have to admit the reasons ADVENT or XCOM would perform it were questionable at best.

But if it _wasn’t_ them, then it was someone who was confident enough not to fear the retribution the Collective would bring. The Battlemaster rarely got angry, but attacking children and the families of soldiers was a line he wouldn’t intentionally cross. Ravarian almost felt bad for anyone the Battlemaster killed in the investigation.

But a larger part hoped that he would take his time killing them.

It would be deserved.

***

_Unknown Location – Argentina_

_1/9/2017 – 9:57 A.M._

And work had been going so well. Volk had happily been planning the next three months of operations, the Argentinian government was slowly coming around to the idea thanks to a combination of smooth talking, tech agreements, and preliminary diplomacy, and the base was finally fully complete and functional.

It was exceptionally nice, air conditioned, with full research and fabrication labs, and crystal clear TV stations.

Volk had a wide smile on his face, though on the inside was seething. Asaru was standing in front of him in the brightly-lit room, arms crossed and for once looking serious. Volk was almost sure Elena was going to start shooting her if what she said wasn’t good enough. He’d barely stopped her from murdering one of Asaru’s other soldiers.

Not that he could especially blame her right now.

“Now, do you remember our agreement?” He asked mildly, appraising the plasma pistol in his hand. “If I recall, I believe it had some specific stipulations.”

“What happened in Seoul was not us,” Asaru said firmly. “We’re…not sure what is going on, but this was not sanctioned by the Ethereal Collective.”

“ _Liar!”_ Elena screamed as she fired her rifle at Asaru, unloading shot after shot until it was empty. All the projectiles passed directly through her, of course, but it managed to calm Elena down and he tentatively put a hand on her shoulder. “Evidence released to the public,” she said in a rush. “Images, autopsies, clear evidence of alien weapons, psionics, and abductions. Too coordinated to be independent. Level of psionic and technological power extremely high.”

“Evidence which _ADVENT_ is releasing,” Asaru pointed out. “As…distasteful as it may be…it is entirely possible they are behind this attack. To further villainize us in the eyes of the public and any allies. A clever tactic-“

“Shut up,” Volk growled, raising a hand. “I’m not a floundering pawn like you’re used to, most likely. Please, give me _one reason_ why ADVENT would do this? And more importantly, why they _need_ to do it?”

“Increase public-“

“Public support for ADVENT at record highs,” Elena interrupted, glaring at Asaru. “Alliances with China and England established. Referendum for the UK imminent. Further fracturing of European Union. Anti-ADVENT sentiment non-existent. Public opinion increase _unneeded_ and out of character.”

“But do you know that for sure?” Asaru asked. “I promise it wasn’t us.”

“No, but I’m inclined to believe her more than you right now,” Volk pursed his lips. “It doesn’t make sense for _anyone_ to be behind it. But someone is, and I don’t think it’s ADVENT for once. But I also doubt you knew about it either. This,” he gestured aimlessly. “Is plausible deniability. Terrorism from another group. Since there are no actual dissidents in the Collective that I am aware of, I suspect this is a group acting on the orders of someone else. Probably an Ethereal.”

“I can assure you the Imperator would not sanction this,” Asaru said. “Nor would any other Ethereal…” she trailed off suddenly, her own lips pursing. “Although…perhaps there is one. Only one would dare consider such an idea, and then carry it out.”

“Who?”

“An Ethereal named Isomnum,” she said slowly, grimacing. “A highly distasteful individual obsessed with the usage and research of fear. Highly isolationist, highly dangerous. More powerful than I am. He was the one who extracted the Battlemaster in D.C.”

Volk remembered the aftermath of it. At the time he’d gotten a bad feeling about the Ethereal, but anyone who had a death mask for a helmet elicited that reaction. But it sounded like this Isomnum was disliked even among the Ethereals. “Would he actually go against the Imperator?”

“I would not have assumed so,” Asaru said. “But the only ones who might would be him, and perhaps the Battlemaster. And over this the Battlemaster is certainly not the culprit. Yet even for Isomnum this is irregular. I will need to speak to the Imperator about this. There will be repercussions for this, I assure you.”

“There better be,” Volk said. “And I want proof.”

“You will have it.” Asaru said, before she vanished.

Volk sighed, but did feel like Asaru was going to get some answers. Much as everyone would like to scapegoat the aliens, this was the act of an idiot. And while the Collective and ADVENT made questionable decisions, he didn’t think the leadership consisted of morons. If he didn’t know better, he’d think this was an odd attempt to worsen Human-alien relations, but like Elena had said earlier, that wasn’t really necessary.

“I want to leave here,” Elena said, looking up to him. “It feels unsafe right now. Aliens watching.”

She meant the base. Elena didn’t like staying in it for long periods of time. Or whenever she was anxious. He could see how she might feel trapped in here, especially with the amount of aliens around, and given the current situation, he couldn’t blame her. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” he said quietly, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. “We can do whatever you want today.”

***

_The Throne Room of the Imperator – The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_1/9/2017 – 10:09 A.M._

“I am under the assumption,” Patricia said slowly. “That you didn’t order this.”

The Imperator was…displeased to say the least, both in his aura and in his voice. Though not at her. “No. This did not happen at my command. I have little need for such unnecessary measures. A pointless waste of life and breeding of xenophobia.”

“Thought so.” Patricia hadn’t really believed the Imperator would do it. Not only was it an idiotic idea to begin with, it didn’t give them any advantage, and looked _very_ bad if you were trying to get someone on your side. “So who did?”

“It was not ADVENT,” the Imperator said. “I am certain of it, though cannot be completely sure since the Manchurian Restraints have been placed on…many high-ranking ADVENT personnel. I would prefer not to reveal my presence to them immediately. But I have seen enough to convince me they were not behind it.”

“And XCOM?”

“Blocked entirely,” the Imperator stated as he strode forward. “Which is the consequence of Aegis, or more worryingly, the Sovereign on Earth. I suspected it was only a matter of time before it began reaching out. XCOM is an obvious choice, and I doubt it took much to convince him it would be an… _ally_ against me.”

Patricia scowled. “Let’s hope not. The Commander is willing to do anything to defeat the Collective, even if it means allying with something like that. And saying the right things to the Commander isn’t difficult. Assuming it didn’t take control altogether. Not even Aegis could stop a Sovereign, correct?”

“No.” The Imperator said flatly. “Nor any other psion in XCOM. I suppose it is possible this was the work of XCOM, but I am skeptical.”

“The Commander wouldn’t do this, not of his own free will,” Patricia shook her head. “He would only do it if it served a greater purpose and was necessary. Forming ADVENT justified such actions. There is nothing here which justifies this. He didn’t need to make people _angrier_ at the Collective.”

“No, and even a Sovereign One wouldn’t go to the trouble of something so…pointless,” the Imperator mused. “There are possible culprits; few would dare to carry something like this out. This fits Isomnum’s work, yet I am not convinced even he would do it. The alternative is exceptionally unthinkable though.”

“Which is?” Patricia asked.

“That this was carried out at the command of the Creator,” the Imperator said. “Or more accurately the Bringer. She has been corrupted to a point where her loyalty is to it, not me. A planned and acceptable consequence, but even still she understands the… _consequences_ of actions like these. They are of _rebellion_. The Bringer would be playing with fire. I do not toy with such creatures and he knows it.”

Patricia furrowed her eyebrows as she looked outside the windows to the void of space. “How much have you spoken to this Bringer?”

“To the Bringer himself? Only twice,” the Imperator said. “His subordinates and the Creator relay anything else essential. But Mosrimor has been useful in this regard. I know enough about him to establish boundaries and safeguards. To act in such a manner against me is…ill-advised. Which makes me question his involvement. He knows the consequences.”

“It couldn’t hurt to speak to both of them,” Patricia suggested. “You would find an answer one way or another.”

“What will be difficult is the Battlemaster,” the Imperator said. “He will want to punish the culprits. It is not time to sacrifice Isomnum yet, nor will he succeed in killing the Bringer, nor do I want him to yet. Denying him justice will not be taken well.”

“He doesn’t know the truth,” Patricia realized. “About the Sovereign Ones.”

“No,” the Imperator said. “He will not take the existence of the Bringer…well. And he would be unlikely to take the truth as you or I would. He sees no enemy greater than the Synthesized, and will do whatever it takes to defeat them. He does not care about greater ramifications of the Sovereign Ones. Giving him Isomnum and allowing some means of taking his vengeance may alleviate his wrath.”

“And if it is the Bringer?”

The Imperator was silent for a few moments. “Then he must be distracted. The Creator’s Blacksite of Paradise should not be investigated by him. He would not approve of what is taking place.”

Patricia wondered just how bad it could be. The more she heard about the Bringer, the more she wondered just what was going on there. If it was bad enough where the Imperator worried about the Battlemaster finding out, it must be far worse than the Sectoid Hives. Which was something she was struggling to really comprehend.

“Nebulan suspects Isomnum,” the Imperator said. “What gives me pause is the apparent usage of the Chosen. They must be interrogated as well. Before the Battlemaster does. I will have Quisilia distract him until this is determined. You will come with me here. Your species has suffered because of the fool who performed this, and you will determine their fate.”

“Me?” Patricia raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the only Human here.”

“No,” the Imperator agreed, gesturing for her to follow. “But you are the most important. Come with me, Patricia. There is a dissident to find.”

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_1/9/2017 – 12:11 P.M._

Duri wished something would happen. Something to wake him up from the nightmare he was in right now. This had to be some kind of twisted figment of his imagination; everything seemed brighter than it should be, there was a ringing numbness in the air and everything around him barely registered.

It had been bad enough waking up to the news of the attack. The images they’d shown were horrifying. They’d all watched in stunned silence until Duri realized that was _where his family was_.

The news had been given to him shortly after.

_I’m afraid that I have to report that your family is among those killed, Officer. I’m sorry._

The man had said some other words, but he hadn’t registered them.

_Your family is dead._

_Dead._

His wife.

His girls.

 _Dead_.

Not because the city had come under siege. Not as a casualty of war. Just victims of a senseless slaughter. Hundreds of miles away.

 _Dead_.

They were dead because of him. Because he didn’t want them going north. Because he thought they’d be _safe_ away from the front lines. A cruel irony, if they’d done literally anything different they would still be alive. But he’d insisted because he’d been sure of their safety.

 _Dead_.

He’d numbly asked for pictures. Proof. They’d refused. _Not until you speak to someone. You can’t handle it right now. Not until you’re calmer._ Perhaps they were right. Any other time he would have punched them. But somehow his military discipline won out, and he just stared blankly at them before wandering out.

They yelled something after him. He didn’t hear it.

 _Dead_.

He wandered aimlessly, picking up more parts of the story by accident. It wasn’t just his family that was dead. It was others. Then it came out that some were abducted, not dead. Then that the attacks had been deliberately targeted at families of soldiers.

_Dead because of him._

He was shocked he hadn’t begun crying yet. Instead he was just numb. Still clinging onto some fragment that none of this was real. He’d wake up, call his family, and tell them to get as far away as possible. Or hell, bring them down to him. Here he could protect them. That was all he wanted to do. Protect them.

What kind of father and husband would he be if he couldn’t do that?

_A failed one._

It was a bright day outside, a sunny one. Too bright. Too pleasant. There was even a breeze. Would the weather be so nice if this was real? Wouldn’t he be able to feel everything a little more crisply? Just a little bit?

“ _Duri!_ ” He barely registered a shout, not looking away as he looked onto the sea in front of him. Yes, very bright and blue. It was never that color.

“Duri!” Beatriz scrambled up, her face immediately morphing to relief. “Thank god you’re fine. We thought….well…” she swallowed. “Did you find out…”

“Dead.” He said numbly, not looking at her. “They won’t show me the bodies. They just said they’re dead.”

“Fuck,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice turned concerned. “You’re holding your pistol.”

“This?” He looked down at it in his hand. He’d forgotten it was still drawn. “Doesn’t work.” He pointed over the sea and pulled the trigger. Nothing. “I tried twice. Don’t know why I didn’t load it,” he shrugged. “Maybe I would wake up.”

Beatriz took a few deep breaths. “Duri…you should come back with me. We can talk…you shouldn’t deal with this by yourself. It isn’t a good idea.”

“Talk about what?” He shrugged. “They were there because of me. And now they’re dead. No mystery. They’re not coming back.”

“Duri, this is _not_ your fault,” Beatriz insisted, grabbing his arm. “You sent them there to _protect_ them. You didn’t kill them, the _aliens_ did. Not you.”

He was silent for a minute. “I haven’t been listening. Do they know for sure it was the aliens?”

“Chancellor Vyandar confirmed it,” Beatriz said. “Of course the Battlemaster has said they had nothing to do with this.”

“Liar,” he agreed, an alternate plan forming in his mind. “He should at least admit to what he did. Lying is insulting. Where are the aliens on base?”

“Don’t know,” Beatriz said. “ADVENT said they were going to question the ones in custody to see if they knew anything else…”

“It’s funny,” he said slowly. “I was just wondering if the aliens weren’t all bad.” He looked down at his empty pistol. “Guess I was wrong. But my family needs to be avenged one way or another. I shouldn’t die until then.” He reached in his pouched and pulled out a clip and slid it into his pistol.

Beatriz looked alarmed. “Duri, this is a bad idea. You’ll be killed or court-marshalled. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said numbly, turned to face her wearily. “I don’t have a reason to live anyway. The only ones I wanted to protect are dead. ADVENT may kill or arrest me, but I don’t care now.”

“Just talk to someone first!” She pleaded. “You can’t ruin yourself over this.”

“Call someone to stop me if you want,” he shook his head and began to walk. “I don’t need someone to talk to right now. I’m sorry.”

She looked at him helplessly, but didn’t say anything. “This is something I have to do,” he said as a farewell. “I hope you never have to understand why.”

He left her alone, as he walked towards where the aliens were being kept.

All he needed was three. One for each of them. Then ADVENT could do whatever they wanted to him.

***

_Chambers of the Battlemaster – Mars Collective Base_

_1/9/2017 – 4:11 P.M._

It was ironic that for the first time he and ADVENT were on the same side. The Battlemaster suspected that there was little that he and ADVENT leadership would agree on, but there were certain lines that would not be crossed on either side. Targeting civilians was something done only as a consequence of other actions, and even then when there was a clear goal to it.

Very rarely had it seemed to have an effect outside of making enemies. Civilians died in war, but there were few instances where deliberate targeting was justified.

Attacking families of soldiers, regardless of side, was one of the most dishonorable actions one could take. Enemies were afforded a certain level of respect. This respect was extended to families. They were not exempt from the dice roll of war, but to deliberately target them simply because of association with an enemy was the action of a coward.

This was why he despised intelligence work, where this line of thinking was mild compared to what spies considered. It had its place, but it was a station that he would never fully endorse or support.

Dead children were also casualties in war. Accidentally it was always unfortunate. But to deliberately target them was a level beyond evil. Humans already had subpar treatment for many children, and killing the ones who actually had parents was made somehow worse. He couldn’t fathom the mind of someone who would deem this acceptable, among any species.

Although it made him realize that the Collective had been complicit in this kind of activity for some time, he just hadn’t wanted to realize it. Who knew how many children had been sent to Revelean, Fectorian, and the Creator. Perhaps this excuse could be distraction, but it would be a lie. He had just not considered it relevant until now.

That would change soon. And if they took issue with it, they could use clones.

“What are you thinking?”

Yang had been somewhat talkative as they’d worked, each of them trying to get a feel for each other. He was thankful she wasn’t put off by his stature, but it was…different…attempting to talk to someone so openly. He had made an attempt to articulate his thoughts, but it was usually without preparation.

“Considering,” he said. “The Collective has been complicit in distasteful behavior for some time. I had not confronted it until now. It is…disquieting to realize it after all this time.”

She cocked her head. “Like what?” She was having her new and improved weapons float by her sides, a constant practice the Battlemaster respected.

“Children,” he mused. “Our treatment of them. Human ones at least. Many have been killed by us before the deaths today. That will need to be changed.”

“Ah, right,” she nodded. “Can’t say I’m disappointed to hear that. Glad that you aren’t the kid-killing type.”

“I would purge the genome of any who are,” the Battlemaster muttered. “Degenerates.”

“You’re bothered by this,” she noted after a few minutes. “Almost as much as ADVENT. More than I expected, honestly.”

“Are you not?”

“Of course I am,” she scowled. “ADVENT is the enemy, not the people. But you’re…” she gestured. “Well, an alien. And the one in charge.”

He thought about how to articulate this to her. “During the days of the Empire…Children were rare. Only given or allowed to those who earned them. They were the ultimate dream, the progression of our species. There were none more valued or treasured than our children. Rarely were there more than one at a time.”

He paused. “Humans were the first species I saw who were…ambivalent to children. They did not care about any other than their own offspring. What children do not starve are placed into buildings and sold by governments.”

“You mean adopted?” Yang asked. “That…isn’t slavery.”

“Isn’t it?” He asked. “You must pay the government for the privilege of giving a child a home. I performed my own research. Your institutions are corrupt and bloated, more concerned with money than children. Perhaps not permanent slavery, but they exist to make money. And those are the lucky ones.”

He shook his head. “A species which does not care for children if they have the means to do so is flawed and failed. The Vitakara have orphans, but they are adopted by families within days. Humans are selfish and wouldn’t think about other children unless they were directly affected.”

Yang pursed her lips. “Can’t say I disagree.”

“So I am upset,” the Battlemaster continued. “The children who died today were lucky. They had families and lives. They did not choose to participate in this conflict, and yet they died senselessly. Many have lost family members already, those who died in conflict. More will be rendered orphans by my hand. But those who die in battle made a choice to fight. But children have no choice. Especially not Human ones.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll take over orphanages when you conquer Earth?” She asked with some hope.

“Perhaps. I cannot do worse than your species.”

The room chimed as someone outside the door approached. The Battlemaster turned, wondering who it could be. “Open.” The door slid open and the Hunter of all things walked inside. He was clad in his battle armor, minus the helmet, and surprisingly unarmed.

“Battlemaster! What a pleasant surprise.” He caught a glimpse of Yang. “As well as whoever you are.”

“This is not a good time,” the Battlemaster warned. “State your reason for bothering me or leave.”

“Don’t rush me,” the Hunter raised a hand, grinning under his hood. “After all, you want to know who could possibly be responsible for that terrible massacre-“ The Hunter gasped as he was lifted into the air and pulled into one of the Battlemaster’s waiting hand.

“ _What do you know?”_

“First,” the Hunter coughed. “I want to say that none of this was my idea and I was just following orders!” He hissed as the Battlemaster began applying pressure over his whole body. “Alright! Stop it! The Creator ordered the attack! We took part in it.”

The Battlemaster threw him into a wall, fury building as the Hunter rose to his feet shakily. “The _Creator_?”

“Yes,” the Hunter coughed. “Look, I knew it was a bad idea. But sorry, if I’d done anything I would be getting tortured for the next year. You’re scary, but sorry, it’s not much compared to going against the almighty bitch.”

_“What did you do?!”_

“Got orders to work with a bunch of the Creator’s people,” he explained hurriedly. “Caretakers she calls them. Ghouls pretty much, but somehow psions. Teleporting and everything. My job, and that of the other Chosen, was to capture some people, and kill everyone else. We got in, then got out. The Caretakers took care of security and keeping everyone away.”

“Why did they capture anyone?” Yang interjected. “Was there a reason, or was it random?”

“Don’t know the criteria,” the Hunter said. “But it was definitely _not_ random. Trust me, I had the exact _names_ of people who were being captured shared with me. The Creator knew _everything_ about the people in those buildings. Somehow.”

The Battlemaster was silent for a few moments. “What was her reason for this?”

“I have no fucking idea,” the Hunter raised both of his hands in surrender. “Look, I have zero problem with killing those people, but I’m not an idiot and knew that would _probably_ make you mad. Hence why I’m here and telling you so you don’t eviscerate me and drown me in acid or something.”

“How considerate,” the Battlemaster growled, twisting his hand and the Hunter crumpled as his kneecap shattered. “Yet you still participated.”

“Of _course_ I did!” He yelled. “You have no idea what’s going on with the Creator, do you? My choices were not follow her orders and face death at _best_ , or go through with them then tell you later and hope you don’t murder me anyway! I didn’t _have_ many great options here!”

“Let me be clear,” the Battlemaster rumbled as he ground the leg of the Hunter further into mush and splinters. “If you are _ever_ faced with a choice between me or the Creator, _I_ am the one you go to. The Creator is _not_ a threat to me. If you fear retribution, I can handle her.”

The Hunter laughed. “No, you can’t. I promise you can’t. I’m probably going to die anyway just by telling you this, but at least you might kill the bitch for me.”

“You will not die by her hand,” the Battlemaster promised. “You overestimate her own power. She is a scientist at best, one twisted and deranged-”

“Word of warning,” the Hunter interjected. “ _You_ better not underestimate her. Do you think I’d be this reluctant if she were a fucking _scientist_? There is something in Paradise. Something a lot more powerful than her, than me, and probably you.”

The Battlemaster paused briefly. “Do you have proof the Creator was behind this?”

“Ah, yep,” the Hunter grimaced as he pulled a datacube out of a pocket. “Recording of the whole incident, at least where I was. Audio and everything. Figured you’d want it.”

“This will be useful,” the Battlemaster said, telekinetically calling it to his hand. “Your contribution is noted.”

“Another thing,” the Hunter twisted his leg back into position. “I’m pretty sure the Creator got this brilliant plan from Isomnum. They’ve been talking a lot recently. I bet they wanted everyone to blame it on him. He wasn’t behind it, but he gave her the idea, I’m pretty sure about it.” He gave a grim smile. “But that’s just my assumption, no evidence for that other than what I heard.”

The Battlemaster felt the datacube in his hand. The situation was now extremely complicated. The worst case scenario he had anticipated was one Ethereal behind it. Two were worse, even if one had merely provided the idea. But he was an Ethereal of his word, and ultimately, it did not change much. Isomnum and the Creator needed to be dealt with.

He wouldn’t kill them outright, but drag them before the Imperator. They could defend themselves before he executed them and sent their corpses to ADVENT. He wasn’t surprised about Isomnum, but the _Creator_ was unexpected. He had not thought she’d known much about the war to begin with, let alone try and _influence_ it.

Neither of these Ethereals deserved to live. Their species was small, but only those who deserved life should keep it. Perhaps this would motivate the Imperator and Revelean to consider focusing on repopulation.

It sounded like there was much about the Creator he was uninformed of. Fortunately whatever she was doing would not last long.

He had targets now. Once he reviewed the evidence he would act. Justice and retribution would be swift and merciless. Ironically much like the operation that had started this. “Your assistance is appreciated,” the Battlemaster told the Hunter as he telekinetically lifted him into the air. A few flashes of his sword later, and the Hunter was now limbless, as the Battlemaster tossed the torso a short distance away. “But you still murdered those people. That requires punishment. Be thankful it was not worse.”

“I hate you so much,” the Hunter spat as he hissed in pain. “Well, _sorry_!”

“Apology accepted,” the Battlemaster said, sharply motioning for Yang to follow him. “You are not beholden to the Creator any longer. If such an event happens again, you will die. Is that understood?”

“ _Loud and clear!”_

“Come, Yang,” the Battlemaster said. “Isomnum has an explanation to provide for us.”

***

_Busan – South Korea_

_1/9/2017 – 3:30 P.M._

The Officer in charge was unreadable with the helmet on, but was thankfully the only one there. Duri had his off. He’d forgotten it to begin with, and he didn’t really care enough to get it back. Not like he was trying to hide. This was a self-destructive plan, but the alternative was doing nothing.

And he just couldn’t do that. Not now.

“Hold up,” the Officer said, raising a hand. “We’ve got the area restricted.”

“I know,” Duri said. “I want to go in.”

The Officer looked at him a few moments. “Why?”

Duri just pulled out a picture of himself and his family and handed it to the Officer. He didn’t feel the need to say anything at that moment. Both of them knew what had happened, and now why he was here. “They warned me people like you might come,” the Officer finally said. “Technically I shouldn’t let you in at all.”

Duri was just silent. The Officer extended a hand. “All weapons have to be confiscated,” he paused. “However, there may be a pistol around the cells. But I wouldn’t know that.”

“Of course not.”

He handed his pistol over, and began walking in as the Officer unlocked it. But he suddenly grabbed his arm. “I’d think carefully,” the Officer warned. “In the event something happens I’ll have to call for security. I won’t be able to help you.”

Duri gave an emotionless nod. “I understand. Thank you.”

He stepped inside the holding area and walked towards where the cells were. Of course, calling them _cells_ now was a bit generous, as they were essentially rooms with steel walls. There weren’t locks on them anymore, they had actual beds, tables, and some small furniture. All of them were occupied, and all of them watched him in concern.

As they should.

The pistol wasn’t in an obvious place, in one of the lockers, but he found it easily enough. He simply entered the nearest cell he could find. Five aliens resided in it, four Vitakarians and one Dath’Haram. All unarmed and slowly backing up as he entered the cell. They must have seen the deadness of his eyes because several of them became visibly worried.

He’d learned that Vitakarians began blinking rapidly when agitated or surprised. “Officer,” one of them said, likely speaking for the group. “I know what happened. I’m sorry about it and it’s terrible, but killing us isn’t going to bring anyone back…” he trailed off as Duri raised the pistol.

“Their deaths were pointless and without reason,” he said blankly. “Why should you be special? They died by the hand of your kind. Justice is needed.”

The Vitakarian swallowed, but continued. “We didn’t kill them. This isn’t justice, Officer.”

“Perhaps not,” Duri agreed numbly, his hand staying firm. “But I don’t care now. The three ones I loved most are dead. Three aliens will die now.”

He suddenly felt something like a vice cover his entire body. “Officer,” a female called out, and turning his head he saw another Officer with one of the Priests beside her, arm extended to him. “Put the weapon down. It won’t end well for you.”

Duri looked back and fired the pistol. There was only clicking and he looked at the weapon in disbelief, before letting out a broken chuckle. He tossed the useless weapon to the side, looking at the officer in defeat. “A trick.”

“One for your own good,” the Officer said, taking off her helmet, revealing a Korean woman with cropped black hair. “You aren’t the first person today to try that. If we’d let it just happen you’d be in jail. This is ADVENT saving you from throwing your life away. You are _not thinking clearly._ ”

She took a step towards him, as he stood there limply, not having the strength to resist whatever would happen. “Look, I get it,” she said softly. “My sister was butchered by the animals that did this. I want to put a bullet through every alien that was responsible for this.” She tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “But the _right_ aliens. And when you’re in an acceptable mental condition. You- _we’re_ not going to be able to get over this easily. But we need to at least try.”

“Why?” He asked, voice cracking. “I don’t have anything left.”

“Yes you do,” she said firmly. “Even if you don’t see it now. I don’t know who you lost, but would they want you to just give up?”

He shook his head; hesitantly, but he did it. She took his arm. “Come with me, let’s get out of this place.”

He didn’t say anything as he was led out, still in a semi-surreal state. Maybe she could help him, maybe he somehow still had a future. But now he just felt tired and drained. He just wanted the day to end, to sleep.

To forget.

Maybe that realization broke the dam inside him, and he let silent tears roll down his cheeks as he was guided away.

***

_Communications Hub – Mars Collective Base_

_1/9/2017 – 6:11 P.M._

Yang did not especially want to be standing in a darkened room as the holoprojectors lit up, even with the Battlemaster center-stage. She had heard the stories about the Dread Lord, and the fact that no one felt comfortable providing anything more than basic information about him, and that she’d never heard _any_ sort of casual talk, let alone any jokes about his subjectively edgy persona said a lot.

Cogitian actually had a few documents on him.

Those had been enough to put the Dread Lord on her list of ‘Ethereals never to talk to ever’. Even the dispassionate text of what he’d done and descriptions of what it was like to be around him unnerved her. What the Imperator had been thinking bringing him along she didn’t know, although the literal fear factor was certainly a possibility.

But she would have preferred that the stories just stay that – stories. She had no desire to meet the illustrious Dread Lord in person.

But he was now connected to this incident, so the Battlemaster’s first course of action was to speak to Isomnum directly. And to her mild surprise, he had responded rather quickly. Perhaps he was always this fast, but no one called him. She did feel some levity at the thought of Isomnum staring hopefully at a phone hoping someone would call him, but no one did because he was the closest thing to a demon the Ethereals had.

The hologram materialized, showing Isomnum in extreme detail. He matched his dossier image perfectly, right down to his death mask helmet. Two hands were held in front of him, and two were clasped behind him. The Dread Lord looked at the Battlemaster first, then down to her. She shivered as the empty eyes of the helmet stayed on her for far too long.

 _“Battlemaster.”_ Yes, his voice was just as discomforting as described. _“Why do you speak to me?”_

Yang then noticed that Isomnum wasn’t alone, there was another figure to his right, and another to his left. The leftmost figure was a Sectoid of all things, although this one was notably… _unique_. It wasn’t a Vanguard, but it was modeled in the form of the Hive Commanders, if they were more proportionately built. It bore black armor of some kind, which seemed embedded directly in the flesh, and the eyes were a white that even came through the hologram.

The rightmost figure was a surprise. It was an elderly woman; Japanese she noticed, with her greying hair pulled back into a single ponytail. She wore nothing ornate, but instead a medical coat of sorts, with an array of surgical tools attached to a belt on her waist. Round-rimmed glasses rested on her face, and her face was impassive and cold, similar to the mask of the Ethereal beside her.

She supposed it wasn’t out the question that Isomnum would have Humans working with him, but some part of her suspected that this wasn’t an ordinary Human. She didn’t like the idea that this person was yet _another_ gift to an Ethereal from the Imperator, but it wouldn’t necessarily be out of the question.

“Have you spoken with the Creator recently?” The Battlemaster began, also looking at his entourage.

 _“Yes. She came to me for advice,”_ Isomnum motioned to the Sectoid. _“I provided what she asked. In return she granted me this; a fascinating and intelligent creature. Further useful for the deconstruction of the Sectoid psyche, it is more adaptable than the Hive Commanders believe it is.”_

“I do not care about your pets,” the Battlemaster dismissed flatly. “What did she request from you?”

 _“How to properly break the Humans through terror,”_ he answered dispassionately. _“Techniques, examples, how to use it to manipulate populations. Simple tasks, there are many avenues in which to exploit the Human psyche. The average Human can be broken through certain triggers; too much stress on a particular aspect will break them. Family is a noted constant. Figures of importance or prominence have an effect on those below them. Targeted, they will have a detrimental effect on the mental health of a population. This leads to irrationality, which leads to mistakes, which leads to exploitation, to conclude in manipulation.”_

Then Isomnum had definitely been behind this plan, even if it was just providing the Creator with the structure. The Battlemaster wasted no time. “Did you know she would carry it out?”

 _“Did she?”_ Isomnum’s tone shifted to moderate interest for the first time. _“If so, I am impressed. I did not think she would follow through. She is too…obsessed. Too broken to question whatever she is communicating with. She did not matter to me, but it has yet to dull her skill. Yet if she has performed what I suggested, then I may have to reexamine her potential.”_

The Battlemaster was angry enough that Yang could easily sense it, despite not being a telepath. “You _are_ aware that I specifically stated that _nothing_ of that nature was to happen without authorization. You should have informed me even if it was just a suggestion.”

 _“No.”_ Isomnum stated without emotion. _“You are afforded no more respect than any of our kind. The concerns of aliens, their lives and feelings, are irrelevant. You have no stomach for war, for doing what is necessary for victory. I do not answer to you, you are ineffective.”_

“The Imperator placed me in charge of all operations on Earth,” the Battlemaster continued calmly. “It does not matter your opinion of me, this went directly against the wishes of the Imperator.”

 _“Words which are hollow,”_ Isomnum added. _“You are easy to placate, Battlemaster; easy to manipulate. You have been, and are little more than a tool used by others at their command. You think you have independence; authority, but all the power you have is an illusion. You are a weapon pointed at our enemies, always looking for validation or approval from those who are your superiors. You have authority over aliens. But your words or threats mean nothing to your own kind.”_

Yang didn’t know if he was _trying_ to make the Battlemaster angry or not, but she was concerned it was working. “He’s trying to distract you.”

 _“Yes, listen to your own pet,”_ Isomnum said, looking back to her. _“The Battlemaster, an Ethereal, listening to the words of an alien. You rely on them too much, Battlemaster, they are a corruption, one which you have succumbed to. Use and dispose of them as you wish, but you do not treat them as they are meant to be used. You care for them, and that is your weakness.”_

He looked to her, and she was suddenly assaulted with a psionic mind _far_ stronger than anything she had ever face before. It reminded her of a lurking beast, hovering at the edge of her telepathic reach and pressing against her like a tidal wave. “Battlemaster…” she swallowed. “I can feel him.”

“Cease your attack,” the Battlemaster commanded. “There _will_ be consequences if you continue.”

Isomnum gave a hollow laugh. _“None will mourn an alien. The Imperator will simply provide you another pet to placate you. But you will not forget how you lost this one.”_

The toying Ethereal easily shattered her defenses and was inside her mind, a stabbing and constant pain as he made sure she knew and he sorted through her mind like a burglar robbing a house at gunpoint. Her life from childhood to now flashed at various places before her eyes. “He’s in my head!” She screamed in a panic.

Her vision blinked and flickered, pain stabbed throughout her body, not from bullets or standard weapons. On the ground she saw and felt her leg being ground up and eaten by spiders, which then began crawling _into_ her body and she felt the eggs they were laying inside her. The area around her was no longer what she remembered, instead she was surrounded by corpses, all of them her family.

Perhaps she screams, or maybe not as the spiders were in her mouth, she didn’t remember how her hands became deformed and covered in blood, but she saw it all the same. She knew there was something else there, some part of her which knew this wasn’t real. But it was vivid and visceral.

And Yang could do nothing but scream as her sanity was broken bit by bit.

***

_Blacksite 004: “Sanctuary” – Unknown_

_1/10/2017 – 3:20 A.M._

In the white room, the Battlemaster sat and thought. The actions of Isomnum were intolerable, and would need to be dealt with in suitable fashion. It was fortunate he had thought to take control of the situation immediately before her mind was lost for good. And he could always rely on Sana to be available when necessary. Especially when he was carrying a convulsing Human woman in his arms with an explanation of “Isomnum.”

There were only a few options he had before him, and ultimately Sana he trusted the most and if there was anyone who would be able to help reverse the damage, it would be her. Perhaps. Sana was a doctor, and a powerful telepath, but he didn’t know how often she worked with cases like this. But he didn’t want to trust Yang to the Imperator or the Overmind.

He was surprised with himself how much he cared at all. While Yang was more…palpable than he had originally intended, it had been a matter of weeks since they’d met. It was probably simpler than that. No one deserved what Isomnum inflicted on his victims, especially when it was done with the intent to provoke him.

In which case, it had certainly succeeded.

However, he also disliked what Isomnum had said. Yang had been right in that it was clearly to throw him off, but the Battlemaster didn’t think it couldn’t have some truth to it. He was no Imperator, he had no desire to do anything other than what he was good at. That didn’t necessarily make him just a weapon or tool. While it might not be something that Isomnum would care about, he _did_ have some authority in the Collective.

Certainly more than Isomnum had with the Imperator.

Although…he did wonder now. How true that was would depend on what happened next. What Isomnum had done was unjustified and the most blatant in a long list of his offenses against not just aliens, but the Ethereals themselves. His involvement in this incident was enough for the Battlemaster to justify his removal.

But he wasn’t sure the Imperator would allow that. While he could understand the reluctance to kill off an Ethereal when there were so few left, the Battlemaster was convinced that the Collective would be better off without him, and that he was too dangerous to be left alive. It was both the practical and right thing to do.

The Creator’s fate would depend on her own justifications.

The Imperator was hiding something important there, and the Battlemaster was not naïve enough to think that the Creator could be doing anything major with him knowing about it. It was concerning enough that he hadn’t been told of it, but what was more concerning was that the Imperator was in support of it.

From what the Hunter had said, he wasn’t going to like what he found.

At the very minimum the Creator needed to be detained until they figured out what was going on.

He let out a sigh. And this was happening just as the Collective had begun to stabilize. Now there were two Ethereals acting outside their authority and deliberately interfering with Earth. Not a good situation, but one he would have to solve soon. The Humans would never let this go until they knew the truth one way or another, and right now it just served as a rallying cry.

The problem would only get worse if the Imperator declined to punish either of them.

He wasn’t sure what he would do in that case.

The Imperator was not unreasonable. His reluctance to punish Ethereals was understandable, but this idiotic assumption that they could keep acting like they were invulnerable and superior to everything else was one reason the Empire fell. Isomnum was a remnant of an era that didn’t exist any longer, and some day they would find an alien species that would pose more of a threat than the Humans.

Despite what Isomnum thought, aliens were not inferior. Not really. If that were the case they wouldn’t bother with them at all, and they wouldn’t have been working to make sure they were on the same side. Humanity had at least proven that aliens could hold their own, which likely made Isomnum irritated that was the case.

The door slid open and Sana walked inside, her expression one of focus. The Battlemaster stood as well. “Will she recover?”

“Yes,” Sana answered. “Though only because you brought her to me immediately. The damage would have been irreversible if you had delayed.” She shook her head. “A parasitic command. A perfected one, I have only seen it a few times. Goes through the victim memory by memory and forces a certain reaction. Unsurprising it was fear. Luckily it hadn’t gone too far, and I was able to stop it.”

She let out a sigh. “I suppressed the memories of what she endured.”

“Suppressed? Not removed?”

“It is…complicated,” Sana waved a hand. “Removing the memories outright could possibly cause personality incompatibilities. If she returns later, I could examine how to remove them without damaging her, but from what I saw of her mind…she would not want me in her head. Or anyone.”

“An understandable response,” the Battlemaster nodded. “But you have already done it.”

“Only to save her sanity,” Sana nodded. “She is…not a sound woman. Hardly one to bring into battles.”

“Violence does not indicate mental status,” the Battlemaster said. “Otherwise I would never be considered of a sound mind.”

“You are not the same as her,” Sana shook her head. “But that is a different conversation. What Isomnum did here was inexcusable, and I am certain it was not the first time.”

He snorted. “Of course it wasn’t.”

“What do you plan to do?” Sana stepped forward, her robes sweeping over the floor. “I saw the conversation in her memories. It was direct defiance, and if he was involved in what happened…” she trailed off. “This cannot stand without consequence, especially if it came from one of our own kind.”

“I will deal with Isomnum later,” the Battlemaster stated, moving to walk out of the room. “But first I will need to bring the Creator into custody. She has been allowed unmitigated freedom in her experiments, and what I have heard bodes ill for what I will find. She will at least be easy to subdue and bring in.”

“Should you inform the Imperator?” Sana asked. “He would also be interested in what happened. This is not what he wants.”

He glanced at her thoughtfully as he entered the main medical ward. “No. The Imperator knows more than he has said. I want to see for myself if this is the case. He would not order this, but he has been lax in reigning in the likes of Isomnum and the Creator.”

“He will not appreciate that,” Sana pointed out as they reached Yang’s bed. The woman was now clad in a simple medical robe, and looked almost peaceful as she slept. A monitor hooked to sensors on the bed transmitted all important medical information. Heartbeat, brainwaves, blood pressure, all the necessary vitals.

The Battlemaster barely heard Sana’s comment as he looked her over, but gave a quick response. “That is too bad. He should not have allowed this degree of freedom.”

Sana checked some of the equipment, and continued speaking, without looking to the Battlemaster. “So when will you go to the Creator?”

“When she wakes up,” he nodded to Yang. “I feel delaying would not end well. Too much of an opportunity for the Imperator to intervene, or the Creator to destroy or alter evidence. She likely knows the Hunter told me everything.”

“She just went through a traumatic experience!” Sana exclaimed in disbelief. “And you want to drag her to deal with the _Creator_?”

“The Creator is not a threat,” the Battlemaster said. “And yes. The memories were suppressed, she should be fine since the damage was not physical.”

“I highly recommend against this,” Sana said. “She needs rest, not a visit to the Creator’s hell.”

“There is another thing,” the Battlemaster raised a hand. “I want you to come with me.”

She appraised him carefully. After a few moments of silence she just asked. “Why?”

“Because there are going to be those who need your help,” he said grimly. “Once the Creator is subdued, I will put whatever is within Paradise under your control. Dispose or help the victims as you see fit, but I want you to become more involved in the Collective. Shutting down Paradise would certainly assist in that.”

Her mouth was a thin line. “I cannot disagree that it would feel good to end the Creator’s streak of insanity. Yet it might turn violent.”

He faced her squarely. “You have fought before, and if you forget, we will be able to protect you. And you could help her.” He nodded down to Yang. “But I am not expecting a fight. The Creator is no warrior, and she will capitulate easily enough.”

Sana sighed. “Very well. Better I go than Revelean. Yang will likely awaken shortly, and in the meantime I will…prepare.”

“Do that,” the Battlemaster said, as he sat down on another bed in the ward. “I will wait here.”

***

_En Route to Blacksite 10: “Paradise” – Orbit of the Dead World_

_1/10/2017 – 10:00 A.M._

When the Imperator had first given the Ethereals the resources and authority to construct their own personal stations, it was not a gift squandered. Some were small and compact, fulfilling a singular purpose, and others were massive, spanning dozens of levels and factories in their own right. Each one was a work of art which reflected their designer.

The Battlemaster remembered the Creator’s original Blacksite. It had not been called Paradise then, but something else he couldn’t bother to remember the name of. But it had been small, a spherical station that housed several levels of labs and chambers. Modest, but utilitarian, much like how the Creator had been.

That no longer resembled anything close to Paradise.

“Where is it?” Yang asked, looking surprisingly refreshed for what she had gone through. The Battlemaster chalked it up to Sana suppressing the event, and the enhancing drugs which had been pumped into her. They would keep her awake and alert, and were specifically designed to rejuvenate psions.

“Straight ahead,” the Battlemaster said calmly as he piloted the Cultro forward. “We’re almost there.”

Yang frowned. “It’s on the moon?”

“Not a moon,” Sana corrected, stepping forward as she also appraised the marvel before them. “That is Paradise.”

It was easy to mistake the space station for a moon. It was the size of a small one, though not even half the size as the one orbiting Earth. It was a sphere with a black outer shell, almost blending into the void it inhabited. The Battlemaster knew that it wasn’t completely dense, each level allowed some space between it, eventually growing smaller and smaller.

But as he’d found out, acquiring _complete_ schematics of Paradise was impossible. The most he’d been able to find was the first level, which included useful details like where the walls could move to form different passages, the Gateways leading to different lower levels (And even parts of the same level), labs, cells, and the lone stasis chamber.

He did not like how little they knew about anything beyond the first level.

And he especially didn’t like that they were walking in blind to just what the Creator had.

Upon reviewing the video the Hunter acquired, the fact that _Vitakarians_ of all things were somehow managing feats of teleportation, and the Creator was using strangely decayed specimens of all species, it all pointed to something especially unnatural happening. The closer he drew, the more he realized just how _big_ the station was.

He didn’t feel like they would pose a threat, but it was disconcerting such a thing was possible at all. Another question in the list to ask her.

“Communication incoming,” Yang said, looking at the solid green light indicating a hail.

“Open it,” the Battlemaster nodded. She pressed a button and the hologram of the sender appeared. Unlike the previous ones he had seen, this one was a Human, and did not appear to be degraded in the same way others representing her were. The Human wore a white robe with intricate patterns and symbols embroidered into it, and the robe itself was weaved expertly through silver armor it wore, the shine the Battlemaster recognized as his own. Materials from the Dead World.

That raised unpleasant implications.

The man’s face was shaven, as was his head. The eyes were a steel grey, but the face was completely impassive. Not a single muscle moved as the Battlemaster waited. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of tone. _“You are encroaching on Paradise. You are advised to leave immediately.”_

“This is the Battlemaster of the Ethereal Collective,” he answered. “I will speak to the Creator. Tell her I am coming.”

 _“We know why you have come,”_ the man said, unmoved in the slightest. _“You will not find what you seek here. That was a warning, Battlemaster, one it is advised you heed. Paradise operates under the approval of the Imperator, and we are authorized to defend our institution from threats. Do you intend harm towards the Creator, Battlemaster?”_

“Only if she gives me no choice.”

The man was impassive, as he waited a few seconds for seemingly no reason. _“You will be allowed to speak to her. No more. Do not go where you do not belong, Ethereal; even you can die here.”_

The hologram vanished, leaving the Battlemaster both amused and curious. “The Creator’s minions hold high opinion of themselves. Interesting that they claim the Imperator’s protection.”

Yang pursed her lips, as she placed her helmet over her head, a design the Battlemaster had taken from Human medieval knights, although updated to work with her armor. “I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“As do I,” Sana agreed. “This is not normal. Fortunate that I did not listen to you about the lack of risk.”

For once, the Battlemaster was glad someone had ignored him. Sana was wearing her battlefield attire, something he had not seen her wear in decades. It wasn’t quite armor, but interlinked alloy weave which wrapped around her body, retaining some characteristics of robes, but with freedom of movement. She wore no hood, and there were several tools and drugs along her waist and pockets in case she needed them.

They flew the rest of the way in relative silence to the designated hangar. Interestingly enough the Blacksite physically opened up to them, blade-like pieces retracting into a triangle-shaped area, which was definitely not standard Collective design. He easily piloted it in, and set it down, while retracting the exit bulkheads and disabling the seals.

“Something is wrong here,” Sana said cautiously, looking around. “Something is interfering with my telepathy.”

The Battlemaster drew his weapon. “Blocking you?”

“Not…exactly,” she explained. “But normally I am able to easily sense the minds of those around me. I cannot, or at least not beyond a short radius. I can feel you, Miss Shuren, and there are several waiting outside. But their minds are…protected. I would not be able to penetrate them without direct action.”

“Keep your guard up,” the Battlemaster instructed as he led the trio off the ship. “This may be more difficult than expected.”

Angled pillars dominated the architecture, ones which extended upwards to meet at a peak. It was not like any traditional Ethereal architecture, and reminded him somewhat of Human cathedrals. It seemed to be designed to evoke a constricted, oppressive feel, especially in such a tightly controlled space. The area was bare of any equipment or furnishings. There was only a cold grey and glossy tile for the floor which continued in all directions.

Awaiting them was a curious entourage. There were five figures, four of whom were each a different alien species, a Human, Vitakarian, Sectoid, and somehow, an unsuited Andromedon who all wore black robes and hoods. Like the figure the Battlemaster had seen before, they were in various states of decay. The Andromedon in particular looked almost white, and the skin of the others looked veined and cracked.

Unhealthy to say the least.

In contrast to them, the leading figure, a female Dath’Haram, looked unnaturally…striking. If there was a model for the race, this alien would embody it. Regal, toned, skin a pleasant shade of green and her face and eyes aesthetically pleasing even to aliens. She was without physical flaw, and even the Battlemaster couldn’t deny that she was pleasant to look at.

She wore a cloak instead of robes, but this was noticeably more intricate and ornate, allowing more freedom of movement. It had a hood, but it was down with her face exposed to the world. The trim of the robes was a sparkling gold, and strange symbols and glyphs – the same type he recalled from the Creator – were also embroidered in gold thread on the robes in specific places.

“Battlemaster,” she began with a short bow; even her voice and motions were smooth, attractive, and without flaw. “We have been expecting you, as well as your disciple Yang Shuren and the honorable Sana’Ligna.”

At least this one was more conversational. “Then you know why we have come. Take us to the Creator.”

“As you wish,” she turned and gestured for them to follow. “Please follow me.”

They did, with the Battlemaster standing beside the leader, and the remainder of the aliens – Caretakers, the Hunter had called them, flanking them. “Who are you?” The Battlemaster asked as they walked into a similarly triangular hallway.

“I am merely the Umbra of Paradise,” she said, flashing her teeth in a Dath’Haram smile. “A mere watcher over this place. No one of significant importance, I assure you.”

The Battlemaster had a feeling that she was more important – and dangerous – than she wanted to say. But he said nothing as they kept walking until they reached a Gateway. It started automatically on their approach, and they stepped through it – from the schematics the Battlemaster knew it led to the so-called “Ascension Ring” of the first level.

“You have not been here before,” the Umbra said as they entered a larger hallway, this one a more traditional rectangle. “What brings you to Paradise?”

The Battlemaster looked down at her. “The Creator has interfered in Collective operations. I am here to determine how to handle her.”

“Ah,” the Umbra shook her head. “The Creator does not make mistakes of such nature. If she did interfere in a plan of the Collective, I am certain she was justified in doing so.”

“Unlikely,” Yang snorted. “So what’s wrong with them?” She motioned to the Caretakers.

“Wrong?” The alien blinked almost in offense. “Nothing is wrong with them. To be chosen as a Caretaker of Paradise is one of the highest honors one can achieve. If of course requires sacrifice, but the gifts received are worth the mere physical pain of this world.”

The Battlemaster could imagine Yang’s unimpressed face. “They look dead.”

“One cannot bear power without a price,” the Umbra said solemnly. “These Caretakers now serve a higher purpose than their previous lives. They were all once mere mortals, unimportant, nonessential; ones who sleepwalked through life until they became ascended.”

A circular door with similarly blade-shaped segments retracted as they stepped through, into another circle which was filled with Humans. Not just any Humans, the Battlemaster saw that every single one was a Caucasian female. Blue shields separated the ring of captives into segments, with each ‘cell’ having exactly five occupants.

“What is _this_?” Sana demanded, as she saw what the center of the chamber held. There were a ring of odd-shaped stasis-like chambers, each one holding a Human female at various stages of some kind of mutation or disease, beside it was a table where two Caretaker Sectoids were operating on another.

“We are exceptionally organized, and of course do not squander what the Collective provides us,” the Umbra continued without pause. “These are captives from Earth. We are continuing to determine the full capabilities of their genome based on ethnicity, gender, and which adapt best to our technologies being developed today.”

The Battlemaster looked at the woman who was clearly in agony, though wasn’t able to scream because of some organic-looking creature placed over her mouth, though her eyes begged for relief. The Caretakers looked like they were trying to graft something to her flayed arm, and that they were having difficulty with it.

The Battlemaster looked around at the captives, all of them having dead expressions as they shrank away from them wherever they approached. “Am I supposed to be impressed?” The Battlemaster finally asked in a low voice. “Because this display is… _lacking_.”

A blade suddenly flashed by him and buried itself in the head of the woman, instantly killing her. All of the Caretakers immediately dropped to combat stances, blue energy encircling their hands and lightly glowing behind their eyes as they focused on her. A wave from the Umbra had them ease, but the Dath’Haram looked at Yang in clear disapproval. “Do you feel satisfied, Yang Shuren? Is your murder of a woman common among your people?”

“When the alternative is whatever the hell this torture is, than yes,” she said, the bloodied blade recalling to her hand as she glared through the helmet at the alien. “Is the pointless torture of civilians common among _your_ people?”

“The woman you killed was nothing,” the Umbra said, taking a step forward. “A mere pawn of a store on Earth. A life devoid of any purpose. Here she had found one. She could have become something great, and if not, she would serve beyond death; a purpose that is eternal. In her short time here she made a larger impact on the galaxy than she ever would have on Earth. An impact which has just been culled by your selfishness.”

“And who is to decide the purpose and worth?” Sana demanded. “Did this woman choose to be here?”

“Change elicits fear,” the Umbra said, her voice low as she spoke the words. “Mortals fear the unknown. They fear the unknowable. Yet does that mean they should not be shown anyway? Should they be forgotten simply because they _choose_ to remain blind?” She shook her head. “I was once like you, Sana’Ligna.” She stepped towards the Ethereal, who took a step back herself. “Blind and fearful of what I saw. Sickened and revolted, but eventually I learned, I watched. I began to see the purpose behind this, behind _everything_.”

She motioned around her. “Once I accepted the reality of the galaxy, of my place in it, for the first time I was able to know peace and assurance. Not as a mere hunter of the Dath’Haram, or a Bladedancer guarding old and irrelevant ruins, but as one who shapes the future. And I _have_ seen the future, Sana’Ligna, and it is beautiful.”

The Battlemaster was disquieted by what she was saying. Not due to the words themselves, but by the fact that the Creator had a far more intricate hold over these aliens than he had realized. She had somehow achieved a deity status with them, something he didn’t previously think she had the subtlety and mindset for.

“Enough.” The Battlemaster raised a fist, and motioned for her to move on. “Take us to the Creator. Order them to cease whatever they are doing. If I return and they are experimenting on another woman, I will kill them.”

The Umbra sighed, but waved dismissively at the Sectoid Caretakers, who left silently. “This way.”

The next hallway was longer, and the Battlemaster did not especially feel any charitable emotions for the Creator at this point. He supposed this had always been going on, but seeing it in person was a different experience. On a certain level he could see that it was likely not too different from what Revelean did.

But Revelean was usually more…considerate. Experimented subjects were never conscious, or they were just killed. They didn’t suffer unnecessarily, and at least Revelean developed what he considered to be useful research. To his knowledge he had never heard of the Creator developing anything that wasn’t unnatural or of actual usefulness to anything else.

Even the Chosen were mere pawns of limited loyalty and power, and he did not want to know exactly how the Gatekeeper had been developed. What he could not completely understand was showing this off to him as if it were something to be impressed by. “Are there children here?” Sana asked.

“Of course,” the Umbra answered immediately. “Do not fear, they are specially chosen by us. Children have important roles, their purpose and potential is much grander than an adult.”

“You will take me there after we speak to the Creator,” Sana stated. “You will need to learn to live without them.”

“Heartless, Sana’Ligna,” the Umbra sounded sad. “You would tear children away from their home? From the love they receive here? Who are you to decide that this is not their home? I believed you to be better than that.”

“I am certain that whatever happens here,” Sana said slowly, her voice quiet in a way the Battlemaster knew was close to her becoming violent. Something that was exceptionally rare. “It is the farthest thing from love.”

“There is love in everything we do here,” the Dath’Haram merely continued her faux sorrow. “Yet I understand you cannot accept it. But it is what gives us strength and guides us through the trials. Even you can receive it if you open your mind to something greater than yourself.”

“Enough of this,” the Battlemaster cut her off. “Umbra, I should tell you now that the Creator will be leaving with me. Paradise will be turned over to Sana, and you will follow her orders as if she is the Creator.”

The Umbra did not respond, but merely led them forward. They entered another “Ascension room” which had nothing but Vitakarians in it, of both genders. This room had no additional Caretakers, but it was almost more horrific. All of them were horribly starved, little more than skin and bones as they looked at those on the other side of the energy fields with envy. The Battlemaster let his fist clench when he saw several of the cells had bones and clearly half-eaten corpses in them.

“Stop.”

All of them did at Sana’s voice, who unsurprisingly looked and felt both mortified and furious. The Umbra looked behind her with a faint display of disapproval. “Do you wish to continue-“

“Silence.”

The Ethereal placed two fingers of one hand on the side of her head, closing her eyes as the psionic energy faintly swirled around her. One of the Caretakers raised a blue-tinged arm right before he felt a cool blade rest against his neck.

“Touch her, and you die,” the Battlemaster said coldly. The Caretaker relented and returned to being his impassive self. After a short time the prisoners began falling over, not dead from what the Battlemaster could tell, but sleeping. Not a cure, but he knew it was better than letting them suffer further.

“We can continue,” the Umbra said with clear dismissal as she continued walking. They continued in silence as they entered more rooms, each one some kind of twisted and repulsive experiment. Everything from each cell being exposed to a certain frequency which had caused some to crudely force themselves deaf, or a room where each member had a hand and a foot removed.

None of them asked what the purpose could be. None of them could see any possible reason other than sadism, but at each one Sana insisted on stopping; insisted on doing something to help, even if it was minor. The Umbra allowed it, though was clearly annoyed with all the delays.

Paradise. A sick joke if he had ever heard one.

“The Creator is just beyond this room-ah!” She didn’t have time to finish as the Battlemaster telekinetically slammed her to the side as he crumpled the door leading to the Creator’s chambers. The Umbra looked mildly annoyed, and once more waved off the Caretakers from again channeling their strange abilities.

The room was almost bare, square, with an elevated square in the center where the Creator stood over a surgical table which was thankfully devoid of anything else. The chambers themselves were dimly lit, and on the walls hung tapestries of abstract symbols and art which he had no idea how to decipher. The Creator was in the same robes he had seen earlier, almost an odd mockery of Sana when she was in her own non-battlefield attire.

In the far corners he saw two figures standing silently. One was what he could only describe as a massive Sectoid, one as tall as he was. It was as if a Vanguard had been doubled in size, and given the muscle mass to match. Its head was also noticeably bigger, even proportionate to it’s size. The armor it wore was alien, yet regal in terms of pure craftsmanship with beautifully carved patterns and designs which seemed almost organic as it weaved through the robes it also wore as a covering.

The second one was a Muton that looked surprisingly small, or at least seemed that way as it was only the same height as the Sectoid, where it was usually the opposite. This one actually looked similar to a Berserker, at least in the color scheme. Silver armor as exquisitely crafted as the Sectoid’s covered its form, all of the engravings in red, along with a cloak over it. It wore a helmet which resembled a Muton’s face, but one with what could only be described as a solemn expression. A hammer proportionate to its size rested in one hand, the head on the ground, while the other hand was inside some kind of armored gauntlet.

“Blessed Creator, Artist of his work,” the Umbra bowed deeply as they approached. “The Battlemaster and his entourage have arrived.”

“I see them,” the Creator appraised them in disapproval. “Why have you come here, Battlemaster? I have important work to be doing.”

“Now is not the time to play ignorance,” the Battlemaster growled, his voice deadly calm. “Just answer my question: Did you order the attack on Earth?”

She cocked her head. “Ah, that. The Hunter betrayed my secrets I see. No matter. I ordered it, yes. I have grown tired of this constant delay in conquering Earth. Your methods are inefficient, I consulted Isomnum, and from there determined a way to break the morale of the Humans and acquire some resources that are useful to me.”

The Creator glanced down on them in near-contempt. “And I see you couldn’t help but get involved, Sana. Naïve and useless as always. I do not apologize for my actions. In the future, you will be informed of my operations.”

“That is all you can say?” Sana exclaimed in disbelief. “After what we walked through and saw _this is all you can say_?”

“This is not your domain,” the Creator said in frustration. “I do not give you instructions on how to run your Blacksite. You would do well to extend the same courtesy. All who come here see Paradise, in this life or the next. All who arrive in these walls turn their directionless lives into meaningful ones. Myself included.”

“You tread on dangerous ground,” the Battlemaster continued keeping his voice low as he unconsciously let his power make the air quiver. “You _know better_. I believe you have forgotten your place in the Collective. You have been deranged and allowed freedom for far too long. You will be coming with me.”

“No,” she answered, crossing her upper arms. “You lack the authority-“

She let out a yell as she was yanked forward until she impaled herself on his extended blade. He telekinetically dragged her forward until her body was at the hilt, and he roughly grabbed her face with a free hand. “I want this to be _perfectly clear_ ,” he hissed in fury. “The _only_ reason you are alive is because you are one of _us_. I will drag you before the Imperator and he will execute-“

He was cut off as the Creator unexpectedly gripped his weapon with a blood-stained hand. “You,” she hissed with surprising strength and fury. “Just made a fatal mistake. Your fate is sealed.”

“Battlemaster!” Yang shouted, and he pushed the Creator away just in time to avoid the spiked hammer of the Muton which would have slammed right onto his head.

“Kill them!” The Battlemaster roared as he recalled the blade to his hand, eliciting a shout from the Creator as the blade slick with blue blood swept in an arc which decapitated the nearest Caretaker – who flashed with a brief blue light from the wound - as the others began channeling their powers for real. Yang had already killed another one, and was currently facing attacks from the other two.

The Umbra simply sighed in distaste. “An unfortunate outcome. Kill them if you can, delay if you can’t.” She briefly shimmered blue and vanished. The Battlemaster looked to where the Creator was, and saw her being kept up by the massive Sectoid, who created a blue portal and pushed her into it as he turned to face the Battlemaster.

“Take care of him,” the voice that emerged from the Sectoid – a _real_ one – sounded oddly rich and deep. “The healer will be dealt with.”

“As we have prepared for,” the Muton spoke – a _female_ of all things. Their voices were distinctly a shade lighter, even though he had only heard one talk a handful of times. “It is an honor, Battlemaster.” Her arms began flowing with scathing purple energy which didn’t seem to scorch or scar the pristine armor; with the purple flame sheathing her weapon and gauntlet in the acidic energy. With a flourish she charged forward, swinging the hammer with the ease of a feather which he caught by the flat of his sword which held against the purple energy, first intending to test her strength.

She pushed down, but he held, just as he pushed back with a telekinetic blast. He quickly dashed forward and delivered a strike to her head, then did another dash towards the Sectoid, one sheathed in blue power as he assaulted Sana with energy of the same color. The opposing Ethereal was sheathed in her own purple aura, an ability he had not seen in decades.

He smiled under his helmet at the sight. The air itself became tinged with purple as she expanded her aura. Yang behind him was fighting skillfully, having killed another Caretaker telekinetically although she was still dealing with one.

The Muton suddenly thrust an arm forward and sent him flying backwards, which he quickly corrected via a mid-air psionic charge right back into her, the force knocking her backwards, thanks to a psionically enhanced punch. Invigorated, he rose and began striking the Muton, harder and faster than he had in decades, switching hands and adding psionic punches to the strikes.

He had forgotten what it was like to fight under the influence of Sana.

The better part was that the longer it persisted, the stronger he became.

And the weaker his opponents became.

Yang executed the last Caretaker with a beheading, and telekinetically threw her swords towards the Sectoid who didn’t even bother lifting a hand as he redirected them back at her. The Muton was fighting back, now adding her own psionic attacks and punches. She finally let out a roar and extended a hand, catching him in a vice and corrosive energy began lapping at his armor.

Unfortunately, he was still better at it. She had simply provided a means of concentrating more… _directly_. He focused the telekinetic power on her most vulnerable points, the joints, eyes, and organs. He heard a _squish_ and multiple cracks as the Muton stumbled, though didn’t fall. The Sectoid was still trying to assault Sana, but was having little luck, as his psionic attacks did little but irritate her skin which knit back together near-instantly.

The Battlemaster briefly appraised both the Muton female, whose own corrosive aura hadn’t dimmed in the slightest, and the resilient Sectoid. How exactly the psionic power the Muton displayed was even possible was a question for another day. Right now he needed to focus on the situation, and took a closer look at the Muton’s companion.

The giant Sectoid couldn’t beat Sana telekinetically, and every second he continued fighting his body became weaker. But with a glance and a sudden teleport, now he was suddenly in front of the Battlemaster, and with a gesture threw him backwards causing him to slam into one of the tapestries. The Battlemaster charged forward again, and began striking from as many angles as possible.

Ironically, the Sectoid was almost a better duelist. Every strike was immediately blocked by a blue shield which existed just long enough to stop his strike. A hand faced palm-down, and the Battlemaster was anchored to the ground. The Muton charged forward with the gauntlet-hand pulled back and wreathed in psionic flame, but was suddenly slowed as Yang appeared to the side, one hand extended towards the alien.

The Sectoid teleported in front of her in the blink of an eye and with a gesture bathed her in corrosive energy which easily penetrated through her armor and ravaged her body, leaving it writhing on the floor. The Battlemaster, free once more, charged the Muton, pinning it in place with his telekinesis and stabbed directly into its eye.

But his sword never hit the target, as the blade itself had been caught by the gauntleted hand of the Muton. Golden ichor bled from the hand, but the Muton swung the hammer at his head, which he in turn caught by the handle with one of his hands. Both aliens grappled with each other, with the psionic energy beginning to scratch the Battlemaster’s own gauntlet, while the blade cut ever deeper into the palm of the Muton.

With his lower arms he telekinetically drew upon his own power and directed it towards the head of the Muton once more. It roared and pushed towards him with significant strength, but he held fast, and the helmet began crumpling in on itself, already leaking more blood from the crevices.

The Muton finally drew back, yanking the weapon back to his hand, and he dashed to the side of it, grabbed the gauntleted arm telekinetically and stabbed towards it. The armor itself held, and he only managed to nick one of the gaps.

But the Muton was blinded now, even more than she had been before, and with Sana assisting, it was only a matter of time until the battle was decided. It appeared the Sectoid had recognized the same thing, as it teleported behind the Muton, and lifted it telekinetically as a portal was created behind it which it backed into, a psionic shield protecting against any possible retaliation.

The room was silent.

He looked around the room in near-disbelief at what had happened. This should not be close to possible, but it had turned out that a freak Sectoid and Muton had somehow been able to pose something of a challenge for _all_ of them. And both of them were likely still alive, which meant they would be coming back, something which would not bode well since they would bring help.

A brief glance to the Caretaker corpses revealed that that bright flash he’d seen when he’d killed one had seemed to have some effect on the corpses. Whereas in life they had looked aged and sickly, in death they appeared shriveled and little more than sludge for some of them. This could not be natural. Psionic energy housing? He had heard of the theories of the feasibility in the Empire, but those had never materialized.

The Creator was not a powerful psion. How could she have discovered something like this, let alone seemed to perfect it?

Sana was by Yang, who was waking up. Sana had removed her helmet and had placed a palm on her forehead as she mended the wounds inflicted by the Sectoid. “What the hell?” she coughed at she saw the scars on her arms healing. “How are you-“

“It is called Biopathy,” she answered softly. “A rare skill even many Ethereals cannot learn, let alone master. I promise I will give more details later.”

“Right,” she coughed once. “Speaking of which, _what the fuck was that?!”_

“Unknown,” the Battlemaster said flatly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. This is far beyond experimentation. Not even the Creator could discover this on her own, not in this short a time.”

“Well, she did it,” Yang said as she rose to her feet. “Did no one bother to check what she was _actually_ doing?”

“We can discuss this later,” Sana said, looking around. “I believe the Creator will have more of these modified creatures attack. This place…it is disruptive, but tinged with power. The barrier between the Psionosphere and reality is thin. I would not have been able to assist so quickly anywhere else.”

“I doubt our ship has survived,” the Battlemaster said grimly. “And for the current situation, we are trapped here. Our options are limited, and if she has more of those things, even we will not be able to last forever. We have one option.”

“Go deeper?” Yang winced. “Think they’ll even let us?”

“This place is connected by two-way gateways,” he answered. “They cannot be tampered with, not even the Creator could decipher Sovereign technology. There are no security measures, if we find gateways, we can cross them.”

“So the plan is to kill the Creator before she kills us?” Yang asked. “Not the worst plan.”

“But a dangerous one,” Sana looked down, as if considering something. “I suspect those were not the most dangerous creatures she had. There will be more. We need help.”

“That would be great,” Yang said sarcastically. “But where exactly are we going to get it? The captives?”

“No, they would be led to their immediate deaths,” Sana looked to the Battlemaster. “We must release Mortis.”

“Who?” Yang asked.

“Mortis’Ligna,” the Battlemaster answered. “The Dead Ethereal. Her…brother.”

“When you say ‘dead’…”

“I mean he was rendered medically comatose,” Sana said slowly. “Unless…I directed him. At the end he was little more than a walking bioweapon. We share a psionic bond…” she trailed off. “This is not important, not now. We need his help if we want to survive.”

“Are you sure you can direct him?” The Battlemaster asked as he turned to go back into the hallway, remembering the schematics. “It’s been-“

“I can,” Sana said sadly as she began following. “There are some skills I can’t forget, even if I wanted to.”

***

_Level 1, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

“Look out!” Yang shouted and the Battlemaster spun around to see, or rather, _not_ see something leaping at him. The writhing solid mass was telekinetically caught, right before he stabbed upward into it. The skin was hardened, but with the iron grip of telekinesis he made it penetrate the body, it stopped writhing, and he followed up by crushing the head in his hands.

Even in death the creature was difficult to see; somehow able to blend into the environment around it, a memetic ability, he had only heard rumors of the possibility. Revelean had been working on something like that, but it appeared the Creator was far ahead of him. It hadn’t been the first attack either. One had nearly disemboweled Yang who’d required healing from Sana, and they’d been hounded by the things for the past half hour as they’d walked.

Yang herself was in sub-optimal state. Even if her physical body was able to be continuously healed by Sana, her armor was severely degraded. It was corroded all over from the psionic attack by that Sectoid, broken in multiple places, and the continuing attacks were only adding scratches and damage to the already-beaten armor.

It wouldn’t be able to protect her for much longer. A problem. One he’d have to deal with at some point.

The walls had shifted, but the Battlemaster knew which way to go. They had also sustained ambushes along the way; Caretakers appearing out of portals in front of, or behind them, with the intent to score quick kills. However with Sana with them such attacks at best only slowed them down, and after the attempt by one to push him and then Yang into a portal, the Battlemaster was keeping his guard up constantly, as was Sana.

The ambushes had stopped, but the beasts that had likely been patrolling the halls this entire time were still being encountered. They were…interestingly creative as well. They managed to always attack from where he did not expect it. From the sides, from above, when his head was turned the other way, and _just_ when he was distracted for a moment.

Almost as if there was something watching.

The Battlemaster didn’t really know how that could be possible, since there was nothing resembling a security system, and there were no obvious observers. Either way he was on edge, and the constant attacks were doing very little to lessen this. Given how many times Yang had already almost been killed, she was sticking _very_ close to him.

She’d made a joke that she was on her third life. One he’d laughed at if only to reassure her. If he hadn’t brought Sana along, he was certain she would be dead. He wasn’t even sure _he’d_ be in the position he was in now. And this was probably the _optimal_ situation.

Trapped in a hostile space station, threatened by a sadistic traitor Ethereal and her creations. The Imperator, if he knew about what was _really_ going on, was going to have a _lot_ of explaining to do. But there was still something wrong with this place that _he_ couldn’t sense, but Sana and Yang could. Likely to do with his immunity to telepathy.

A blessing at this point.

“Here we are,” the Battlemaster said, looking at an unmarked door which led to the stasis chamber on the schematics. He was slightly surprised that he hadn’t encountered more resistance, but perhaps the Creator didn’t want to risk more of her pets quite yet. Or maybe she couldn’t. He didn’t know what she was planning or thinking anymore.

“What happens if they moved them?” Yang suddenly asked.

Well. That would be a problem.

“Let’s not jump to the worst scenario,” the Battlemaster suggested, as he telekinetically forced the doors open, and they entered the room. Inside was something much more reminiscent of actual Ethereal design. Well-lit, two large lockers on one wall, and on the opposite one, two stasis chambers. He didn’t fail to notice there was a dull blue orb which was embedded into the wall above, and between the two stasis chambers.

“A Sovereign Orb,” Sana also noted. “Perhaps that is why they are avoiding this area or haven’t moved the stasis pods. The Imperator also gave orders they were not to be touched.”

“I would assume it is the former,” the Battlemaster said, looking to the rightmost pod. “Orders alone would not have prevented them.”

The figure of Mortis’Ligna was as he remembered. Eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest, oxygen mask and suit keeping him alive. For being medically close to brain-dead, his body looked as healthy as a normal Ethereal. The Battlemaster hadn’t entirely liked the idea of using an Ethereal he’d developed something of a friendship with as a weapon, but the Synthesized had demanded such a sacrifice.

And now they needed him again.

“What is this?” Yang asked, pointing to the other stasis pod which was very clearly _not_ of Ethereal origin. It was composed almost entirely of orange shards, offering a splintered look into the chamber within.

Well, so it had ended up here. Interesting. “That is a Zudjari,” the Battlemaster said as he looked at the sleeping alien. “‘Axis’ he is supposedly called, one of their most powerful. I did not realize that he had ended up here.”

“Nor did I,” Sana said. “I had assumed the Imperator had stashed him somewhere remote, like he did with Origin.”

“This is remote,” the Battlemaster pointed out. “At least very few would stumble upon him here.”

“There was a completely different species and I never was told this?” Yang sounded mildly annoyed. “This seems like it should be a _lot_ more important than you both are saying.”

“The Zudjari are an ancient species,” the Battlemaster gave the short version. “We discovered them some time ago. We awakened some and they immediately betrayed us. We decided it was best not to investigate them further until later. There are not many of them, and this one was deemed a possible threat.”

“But that is an assumption,” Sana said slowly. “And we could use all the help here we can.”

“You want to _release_ him?” The Battlemaster demanded. “He might attack us!”

“All of us can handle one Zudjari,” Sana said. “More importantly, I doubt he would attack when we’re all that stands between life and death.”

“Do it,” the Battlemaster sighed. “We don’t have much time here anyway.”

Sana quickly went over to the stasis chamber of Mortis’Ligna and began the awakening procedures. “Shield your mind,” the Battlemaster warned Yang as the pod hissed and began opening. “If you do not, you will die immediately.”

She swallowed. “Understood.”

The pod opened and Mortis’Ligna opened his eyes.

Then began to look around, and saw first Sana then him and Yang. “Sana…” he said in a voice that sounded like it had not been used in a long time. “What is…happening…” he stumbled out and was quickly caught by his sister.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Somehow, it seemed the Dead Ethereal was alive again. “You’re awake!” Sana exclaimed in similar surprise and amazement.

“Of course…” he said, strength returning to his voice, as his eyes narrowed. “What is _that_?”

“She is a Human,” the Battlemaster said, nodding down to Yang. “An alien species we are…utilizing to an extent.”

“The situation must be bad if the Empire is relying on aliens,” Mortis commented, and the Battlemaster realized that he had no idea what had happened.

“How much do you remember?” Sana asked slowly. “Your recent memories.”

“Oddly fuzzy,” he said, as if realizing that. “I remember fighting, I was…injured…yes, you healed me. I remember _you_ were there,” he pointed to the Battlemaster. “I assume I was placed in stasis until I recovered.”

So he didn’t remember anything. The question was now how to break it to him. “You’ve been gone a long time,” the Battlemaster finally said, deciding to be blunt. “Sana will tell you later. We lost, the Empire is gone. The Imperator gathered a small number of us and placed us in stasis to survive it. Ever since we’ve been working to rebuild and prepare for their return,” he motioned to Yang. “Hence why we are working with aliens.”

“The Imperator?” He looked at Sana. “Which one? How could we lose…” he trailed off.

“I’ll tell you later,” Sana said. “But right now we’re in a precarious situation. We’re trapped on a station where a rogue Ethereal is trying to kill us.”

“What?”

“And we need to get to her before things get worse,” the Battlemaster continued. “Sorry for waking you up, but…well, it’s a long story. But we’re in need of your skills.”

Mortis looked down at his hands. “I see. Well, not exactly, but I trust both of you. Explain to me on the way, and I’ll kill anything that dares try and attack us.” His tone turned dark. “Especially if we have lost everything.”

“Not to interject in what I’m sure is an important conversation,” Yang interrupted. “But I can’t understand anything.”

“Apologies, Miss Shuren,” Sana said, as she placed two fingers to Mortis’s head. “It would be beneficial if you could understand the Human.”

“I suppose,” Mortis took a step towards her. “Interesting specimen. Psionic? Impressive. I can see why our species is interested in them. Can she fight well?”

“I can speak,” she answered. “And well enough.”

“Five fingers like us? Fascinating coincidence,” he continued. “Is there a whole planet full of them?”

“Unfortunately,” the Battlemaster sighed. “The situation is…complicated.”

“And will be discussed later,” Sana said as she moved to the Zudjari stasis pod. “We have another alien to talk to.”

“What is this?” Mortis asked, confused as he found his proper clothing and began donning it. “How many aliens are working with you?”

“Technically we’re not ‘working’ with this species,” the Battlemaster corrected as the crystalline structure of the pod began to retract as was expected of Zudjari technology. “The last time we woke one up, it tried to betray us.”

“I assume it didn’t go well for them?”

“No.”

The Zudjari adjusted almost immediately, and once he stood, froze, eyes rapidly blinking as it appraised the situation. It wasn’t attacking, which was…good. Yang gave a brief wave, and Sana raised a hand and touched her head, then pointed at him. The Zudjari nodded once, and she did the same transfer of language she had done with Mortis.

The Zudjari shook his head, before focusing on them. “This tongue…is strange. Mouth not suited.”

“You will adjust,” the Battlemaster said. “Others of your species have.”

“Others,” he looked around. “What are you? Where am I?”

“Right now you are trapped,” the Battlemaster motioned around with a bloody sword. “As are all of us. We needed help, and from how Mu’ut Jeen described you, you are a powerful psion.”

The Zudjari visibly perked up at that. “Assimilator Jeen lives? Excellent.”

“No, he doesn’t,” the Battlemaster interrupted. “He made the mistake of attacking us, and is now dead. He is the reason you are here and not at the Forge.” The vertical mouth of the alien opened and closed several times. “You are Axis, correct? You were one of the few who were named.”

“Axis…” the alien paused. “That will suffice, for now. I will demand the full story, but I see and sense that this situation is precarious. But I must know…does Origin yet live?”

“Yes, but he is away and has not been awakened,” the Battlemaster said. “We did not want a repeat incident.”

Axis closed his eyes in clear relief. “Then I am content for now. Allow me to prepare, and I will assist in this conflict I find myself in.”

“I assume you’re going to be useful?” Yang asked.

If Axis had questions about another alien, he didn’t share them. “I am an Axis of the Zudjari Mosaic. Only the Origin can surpass my power, alien.”

“Then prepare,” the Battlemaster said. “This will not be an easy fight.”

“What is the plan?” Mortis asked, as he finished putting on his own gear.

“We fight to the center of this place,” the Battlemaster said, turning to the exit. “And then we kill the Creator.”

* * *

 

Supplementary Material

Chronicles of Salvation:

- [Nulla - When Eyes Open ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889638/chapters/37028091)

- [Inma - Gates of the Garden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889638/chapters/37028178#workskin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you may have questions about what is actually going on in this place and how everything happened or got to this point without much warning before this chapter. The next chapter will definitely answer some of these questions, but there is a significant amount of extra backstory/lore here that isn't going to be discussed anytime. Most of anything to do with Paradise, the Creator, or Bringer was not originally conceptualized by me, but by Edumesh, one of my editors who put an absurd amount of work into it.
> 
> Because I wouldn't want his work to go to waste, I asked if he'd be interested in doing a supplementary companion piece detailing everything else regarding the Bringer and Paradise, and he said yes. So there will be a new additional piece of supplementary material coming fairly soon. I forgot there was a waiting period for making accounts, so he's in the process of getting one now. Hopefully he'll have it in a few days. I'll link it here and in the next chapter when it is posted. It's definitely something different than most of what I've written so far.
> 
> If you don't want to wait until it's posted on AO3, the Chronicles of Salvation is posted to FF.net, but will eventually be posted here as well: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13013855/1/


	39. Slurry

 

_Level 1, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

Watching Mortis put on his war attire was almost nostalgic in a way. The arrival of the Twin had been an event, whether there was a war or not. His armor was sleek and form-fitting, covering even his joints, the black metal polished until it shone brightly. The edges of the armor were trimmed in gold, with the symbol of the Ethereal Empire emblazoned on the chest.

The helmet was similarly designed; form-fitting, black, and without eye sockets or lights of any kind. The equally black robes he wore were more akin to those of Quisilia and Macula; integrated into the armor and hanging down his sides, nearly touching the floor, but didn’t impede his movement. He pulled the hood over his helmet, and gave his sister a nod, before repeating the gesture with the Battlemaster.

Axis was similarly preparing, and it was somewhat fascinating for the Battlemaster to watch, as the armor was far different than anything in the Collective. Each piece interlocked and connected to each other to create one single suit of armor. There was a fine black mesh that gave the illusion of flexibility, but there was hard metal underneath.

The locks around the knees, wrists, and elbows clicked as each piece was added, with the small lights turning from red to orange to signify a successful lock. The armor around the neck was much thicker, and the back seemed significantly more armored than the front. The helmet itself was globe-shaped, with the face and upper head visible through a transparent element. The helmet reminded the Battlemaster of the Human space suit helmets, although this one was likely far more fortified.

The Zudjari pressed a few buttons on his wrist, and the transparent element darkened to black, then reverted back again. The alien rolled his shoulders, and held out a hand and orange crystal sprouted from his fingers to create a short shield, while another crystal blade appeared on the opposite wrist. At a nod of confirmation, both retracted into his suit. So their armor could generate that crystal. Good to know, and combined with his psionic abilities, that made him a more dangerous opponent.

At least for now he was on their side, although the Battlemaster would have preferred to know exactly what he was dealing with. He knew how the Sectoids used and understood psionics. They were able to easily observe and determine the same of the Humans. He could _not_ say the same about the Zudjari, and if Mu’ut Jeen had been a representative of their power, it meant that, psionically, Axis was on the skill of a Hive Commander.

“I am prepared…Battlemaster,” Axis appraised him. “Melee weaponry. An archaic weapon. You are different from your brethren. Why?”

The Battlemaster brandished his sword, lifting it vertical to the ground, flat facing Axis. “I was…am…a Battlemaster. The final ritual to become one was to go to the Dead World and forge my weapon. I was successful, but the price was that my telepathic abilities were reduced to nothing. But in return, I can no longer be affected by attacks on the mind. As for my weapon…” He let it lower to the ground. “I was trained as such. We had no need of the rifles of other aliens. Fighting your enemy close is more respectable and honorable. It shows the skill and bravery of the individual in question. More importantly, most are unprepared for such an attack.”

“Curious,” Axis turned around his own wrist, displaying the device the crystal had emerged from. “Yet I can understand the… _satisfaction_ …of killing an enemy up close. Though few were a challenge for me. Weapons are…” he shooed his hand. “Archaic. Wasteful. For myself, at least.”

“You say that, but I’m sure you’ll change your mind when a bunch of ‘archaic’ and ‘wasteful’ missiles rain down upon you on Earth,” Yang interjected from the side sarcastically. “Did either of your species actually fight anyone competent?”

“One,” they both said at the same time, looked at each other, and then back at Yang.

The woman snorted.

A loud clang attracted all of their attention, and the Battlemaster immediately spun towards the source of the noise. The Sovereign Orb that had been above the two stasis chambers had suddenly fallen onto the ground, and the dull blue light that had surrounded it was gone, and revealed it to be a solid black orb.

“I don’t suppose that is supposed to happen?” Mortis asked, taking a step forward. “Also, what is that?”

“That…was…a Sovereign Orb,” Sana said cautiously, eyeing it suspiciously. “Or at least I thought so.”

“What is a Sovereign Orb?”

Mortis was going to be in for something of a shock later. “We’ll explain later,” the Battlemaster said, as the orb suddenly hissed and cracked open, half of it raising several inches higher. A black mist-like substance began spilling outward. The Battlemaster hissed. “Nanites!”

Everyone backed up from rapidly expanding mass, although the mass didn’t expand beyond a foot from the orb, which rose into the air and further segmented into fourths, and then eights, all tenuously connected as it hovered at roughly Yang’s height. The nanites swirled around the orb, likely kept in place by some magnetic field or perhaps the nanites were designed in such a way that aviation was easy.

“Is this an ally?” Axis asked hesitantly. “Or should I contain it.”

The Battlemaster hesitated. “I am-“

“ _Stasis pods unlocked – Zudjari Axis and Mortis’Ligna.”_ The voice that emerged from the machine was emotionless and mechanical. _“Unauthorized breach suspected. Analyzing units in the vicinity.”_

Several clumps of the nanites sped towards them, far faster than any of them could move away. None of them felt anything, but the Battlemaster felt dread as the nanites slipped into the nearly invisible gaps between his armor, and the rest of them looked to be in various states of concern. The Battlemaster didn’t _think_ the Imperator would put some kind of contingency that would kill them.

But then again, he hadn’t expected the Creator to try and kill him either.

_“Analysis complete – All units marked as allies and cleared of Bringer corruption. Ethereals identified as the Battlemaster, Sana’Ligna, Mortis’Ligna. Zudjari identified as Axis of the Zudjari Mosaic – Further details unknown. Human identified as Yang Shuren, allied for unknown reasons.”_

The mass swirled around the orb. _“Structural damage identified on allied unit Yang Shuren. Weapons insufficient to defeat Bringer-corrupted units. Providing support.”_ A large amount of nanites sped towards Yang, and began fixing her severely damaged armor. Another (smaller) mass jumped towards the Battlemaster.

Or more specifically, his weapon.

The blade was suddenly coated in a black layer of nanites, from hilt to tip. Axis’s gauntlets were also covered with the nanites, and when he created a small blade the nanites quickly formed to cover it. Well, this was certainly going to make his job easier if they would do what he thought they would. Yang’s armor was soon fixed, and those nanites returned to the orb.

 _“Ally support complete,”_ it rumbled. _“Beginning purge of all Bringer-corrupted influence. Level one purge commencing.”_ The orb then began moving towards the exit, slowly but surely, the mass of nanites continuing to swirl around it, like a black plague of insects.

“Since when were we _this_ good at nanotech?” Mortis asked in confusion. “The Empire was good at a lot of things, but our nanotech was nowhere near this level.”

The Battlemaster considered his answer. “We didn’t.”

“Answers can be discussed along the way,” Axis interrupted, pointing out. “We should begin moving. That…thing…will be a sufficient distraction for this Creator. But I would prefer we kill this…individual sooner than later. I dislike this place. It is… _wrong_. I cannot telepathically make sense of what is deeper in this place.”

“It is certainly… _off_ ,” Mortis mused, flexing the fingers on his upper hands. “But interesting. The veil between the Psionosphere and reality is certainly weaker here, something I didn’t think was possible. But I agree, we should move now. A warning – do not under any circumstances drop your telepathic guard.”

Yang frowned as she put her repaired helmet on again. “Yes, I was told this, but why?”

Mortis gave her a long look, made more foreboding by his eyeless helmet. “Because you will die. That unfortunately cannot be helped. But I can assure you that if our enemies are mortal…they will die.”

“Then forward,” the Battlemaster recalled the map. “I know the way to the second level.”

After that though…they would be in uncharted territory.

Normally the prospect of a challenge would be exciting. Such was rare these days. But the Battlemaster felt that they had stepping into something that was truly dangerous. Something that they should not have stumbled across.

But it was too late to turn back now. They had no choice but to go deeper.

***

_Level 1, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

The Battlemaster knelt down to the group and cupped the orb-thing in his hand. Much like the strange beasts which had attacked them earlier, this also had some strange camouflage skin, from most angles being nearly invisible, and in others having some kind of black covering. A light squeeze of his hand made the black skin crumble, leaving him uneasy with what he held.

It appeared to be a brain.

A Human one, to be specific, although it could have perhaps been a Vitakara. It was too small to be a Sectoid or Muton, and not even the Creator would not use _any_ Ethereal genetics. Nonetheless this was…unnerving, for lack of a better word. It was not quite the same shape as a standard brain, however, it was more rounded and no indication to the split human brains had down the middle.

Complex machinery was weaved through it, although not much. A small anti-gravity device was on the bottom of it, and a small ‘eye’ was also attached. Was this some kind of security system?

He let the thing drop to the ground as he turned back to the group. The group which had the corpses of more of those creatures around it. Along with more orbs that had fallen in their trail. Mortis looked down at the brain. “The Imperator is certainly more lax than the Empire when it comes to…experimentation,” he said tactfully. “While I am currently questioning his mental faculties, I can admire allowing this degree of freedom.”

“I highly doubt he sanctioned this,” the Battlemaster said slowly, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it. The Imperator was no fool. He would not have let this place stand if he in any way opposed what was going on.

“In any case,” Mortis turned back to the corridor. “They will not pose problems for us.”

In that he was right. They had heard the leaps of those creatures, but as expected the moment they had entered into the presence of Mortis, they simply keeled over and died.

The Battlemaster had never asked how Mortis had developed that particular skill, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Perhaps as a means of self-defense, perhaps as a side effect of his Biopathy. All that mattered was that the only thing beings thought when they stood before the Dead Ethereal was that they should cease to exist.

And the brain shut down.

The body followed.

All it took was seconds.

The group had split into two, all of them keeping their guards up as they walked the corridors – which had shifted since his arrival, though the Battlemaster remembered the patterns. Yang and Axis took the front, while Sana, Mortis, and the Battlemaster were in the back. It didn’t take long before Sana began informing Mortis quietly of what had transpired.

They walked for…it felt longer than it probably was. Nothing more ambushed them. Yet. With obvious guilt Sana was finishing explaining his situation, with the Battlemaster largely remaining quiet as he watched and tensed for any surprise attacks.

“Interesting…” was the first thing Mortis said, his voice contemplative as he likely looked aimlessly forward, probably wishing he was somewhere else to ponder this. “I wonder if a similar result could be achieved without the necessary psionic bond.”

“I don’t believe so,” Sana said softly. “The Empire tried to replicate what happened. It was a failure.”

“I see,” Mortis glanced down at one of his hands, perhaps thinking of how many more he had killed while being an unknowing puppet. “I do not resent you for this, sister. I would have allowed more as our species was on the line. I do not remember anything of this…and perhaps it is for the best.”

“But I do,” she said. “And I regret it. In the end it didn’t matter.”

“Blame the idiots running the show for that,” Mortis’s tone turned bitter. “I’m not surprised that the first thing the Imperators did when they awakened was get rid of whoever had slowly bled the Empire dry. I _know_ we could have won this, if only they had listened to us and made the necessary-“

“It would have led to the same result,” the Battlemaster finally spoke, making them turn to him. “The Synthesized had held back the entire time. Yes, the Imperators killed one of the Primes. But it was the only one.”

“Imperators,” Mortis sniffed, shaking his black-helmeted head. “Last ditch efforts by the Empire. A step forward, but I agree that they would have failed no matter their arrival, though not for the reasons you think.”

“Then why?” The Battlemaster was curious. Mortis had only seen the beginnings of the Imperators before his accident, but he was well aware that Mortis had disliked many of the military actions and strategies used by the Empire, though didn’t believe he was fully qualified to speak up against it. He was, after all, something of a hybrid. Respected, but with no authority. Powerful, but alone in his specialization, only his sister could understand. He was on a different level than other Ethereals; alone in a sense.

“Because Imperators,” Mortis said, throwing a glance forward as they all paused, hearing a low rumble. Another wall moving most likely. Cautiously, they resumed walking. The Battlemaster could hear Yang and Axis speaking ahead, but focused on Mortis instead. “Imperators,” Mortis began again. “They are…how do I put this?”

He thought briefly. “ _Superior_. They were the most powerful, the smartest, on another level even to the most powerful. Deities in a way…” he trailed off thoughtfully. “And naturally, they did not believe they could make mistakes. I spoke with three. Each one was unnaturally confident. Each one had a plan they _knew_ would bring victory.”

Mortis straightened his cloak. “It was infectious, even for me. The Imperators did not strike me as…arrogant…their skills were justified. But they lacked _fear_. They can’t conceive of someone genuinely outwitting or beating them. It is always an excuse, always something to blame that didn’t go according to plan. They have no check on their ambitions. They believe they are infallible because that was how they were treated by everyone.”

The voice of the Dead Ethereal lowered an octave as they walked into one of the testing facilities and he saw captives, these ones all female Vitakarians who seemed to be succumbing to some kind of infection which was covering their bodies. All of them watched silently as every alien in the room died as Mortis walked through it; quite possibly a mercy in death

Mortis clearly did not want to speak of it. “If what I am seeing right now is any indication, the Imperator that is still alive is no exception. A superior without equal. I imagine he has a master plan to defeat the Synthesized? Something that now he can pursue, unshackled by the constraints of the Empire?”

Hearing the sarcasm and bitterness from Mortis was jarring. Not because it was out of character, Mortis, and Sana to an extent, had both been proven right in the worst possible way. Their opinions on the Empire silenced and redirected until the need for change was apparent – but it was too late.

No, it was jarring because it was coming from an _Ethereal_. The Twins lacked the emotional…coldness that most Ethereals possessed. The words coming from Mortis were what he would expect from a Human, perhaps a Vitakara. Sana never expressed this tendency like her brother had, but Mortis had been the closest thing to a deviant in the Empire.

Or a radical.

Not that it mattered once the War began. Everyone fell in line; but Mortis had never forgotten that his insistence that the Empire required change could have…if not led to victory, perhaps given them more of a chance. But he had never said so to the many enemies he’d made in Civil and Military Command. It wouldn’t have changed anything.

Mortis was waiting for an answer. The Battlemaster should have been more confident, but he had an uneasy feeling that Mortis was perhaps more accurate than he wanted to admit. “A tenuous plan, yes. One which involves aliens.”

“Obviously,” Mortis said dryly. “Little option now, though it’s good to know that barrier is broken. I suspect it has gone well?”

The Battlemaster and Sana exchanged a look. “Largely,” the Battlemaster said slowly. “Though at the moment…there is a species which is fighting back.”

“ _Really_ ,” Mortis sounded torn between amazement and sarcasm. “I…don’t suppose you could elaborate on that? And…ah, _how_ that is actually possible?”

“Well,” the Battlemaster motioned to Yang. “The species is psionic. There is also an Ethereal assisting them. An Aegis.”

“But Aegises were always the most loyal?” Mortis now just sounded confused as they kept walking. “Why would one do this? This would not happen without a good reason.”

“He disagreed with how the species was being handled,” the Battlemaster said tactfully.

“Because we invaded their planet without spoken reason or warning,” Sana oh-so helpfully added, taking the opportunity to voice her own opinions about the Earth situation. “Despite assimilating previous species peacefully.”

Mortis actually stopped and stared at the Battlemaster. “I would have thought better of you. That seems out of character for you.”

The Battlemaster grimaced under his helmet, keeping his voice level. “I have orders. I am not privy to every decision or reason of the Imperator. I trusted him and did not question if he had a plan or reason.”

None of them commented on the past tense of the word.

Mortis let out a sigh. “And this is the Imperator who is going to beat the Synthesized. Excellent. Quite clearly of sound strategic mind and rational decisions.” He shot a pointed look around the hallway, even as more of the beasts died. He was becoming more emotional, more unstable and his aura was fluctuating in range.

At least here it was useful.

“Mortis…” Sana extended a hand and touched his shoulder. “Be careful when speaking to the Imperator. He will not be so…”

Mortis simply stepped in front of his sister without a glance behind, his voice cold. “You are too kind, sister. Too meek. It is your nature, but take a stand for what you believe for once in your life. We made that mistake before, when the Empire quietly distracted us. You have not learned. But I am not going to do so again.”

He turned around, facing the Battlemaster. “I’ve woken up to learn that the Empire is dead, and the best hope for our species is in the hand of an Imperator which invades primitive species for no reason, allows _far_ too much leniency with others he’s brought along, and doesn’t bother to apparently share everything with the few of us who are left.” He spun back around sharply. “Forgive me if I am not filled with immediate respect for our supposed _leader_. I do not hold you accountable, Battlemaster, but you are loyal to a fault.”

He motioned forward. “But now is not the time for this. That will come after we kill this thing which calls itself a Creator.”

“Battlemaster!” Yang suddenly called, as she pointed to the end of the corridor. Glad to have the diversion, the Battlemaster stepped forward as he saw what she was pointing at. “I think this is the Gateway.”

***

_Level 1, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

Yang didn’t know when she had moved ahead of the Ethereals, with Axis joining at her side. It felt disproportionate to be far smaller than literally every other alien in the area. Axis alone was close to three meters. She wished she knew a little more about the Zudjari in general, let alone the one who called himself Axis.

The Zudjari also seemed to not be comfortable around the Ethereals, and even if he didn’t know anything about her, he was at least taller. Likely it gave him some more confidence. The armored alien with the spacesuit-like helmet had been largely silent as they walked, perhaps thinking about how unlucky he was to wake up in this place.

And she could sympathize.

This place…it was wrong on more levels than one. There was a profound _wrongness_ that permeated the entire area. She felt more powerful here…unnaturally so. Yet at the same time she felt chills up her spine as if she was constantly being watched. Multiple times she’d felt like she heard something, a whisper, just on the edge of her consciousness.

“Why are you with them?”

Yang glanced up at the deep voice of the Zudjari, who stared ahead resolutely as they walked. She knew what he was talking about, and didn’t give a rhetorical reply. “Their leader gave me a choice. I accepted it.”

“Yet you are not a slave?”

Yang snorted. “No.”

“Yet the same can’t be said for others of your kind.”

“Also no,” Yang said. “The Ethereals are not slavers.”

They stepped into one of the sickening experimentation rooms, which had reminded Yang about the stories of Unit 731, horrific experiments done by the Japanese on captives during the Second World War. A dark part of her had been fascinated by what had happened there, and what they had learned from such experiments.

She had never wanted to see what it would look like, done with modern technology. Humans were clearly not the only species to possess cruelty. She had thought the Ethereals were largely better. Sure, they experimented on captives and prisoners, but there was a definite purpose to it. Not cruelty, but a clean, sterile goal. ADVENT and XCOM were the same, and she’d be a hypocrite if she thought otherwise.

Then again, if the Imperator had kept the existence of this place from all of them, who knew how accurate her perception really was?

Axis was speaking as they walked through. “Do you really believe that? Have all these aliens been captured or convicted of crimes?”

Yang just shook her head, but remained silent. “And yet you fight with them willingly.” It was a statement.

“Yes,” she shrugged, idly balancing one of her swords enhanced by that Sovereign machine in a hand. “Trust me when I say that the…leaders of my own species aren’t better. This…isn’t representative of the Ethereals.”

Axis looked down on her for the first time. “You have no goal. No purpose.”

She smiled dryly under her helmet. “Oh, I do. But it’s personal. I don’t care about my species anymore. Not really. I don’t need to have a greater goal or purpose than revenge.”

Axis surprisingly nodded. “I have encountered aliens like you before. When their focus is complete, then they are nothing. They are empty. And we saved them, fixed and molded them into something with a goal that mattered.”

Yang just looked up into the black helmet of the alien. “And what if I don’t care about that?”

“You will.” Was the simple reply.

She didn’t respond to that. They walked in silence for a while, until Yang needed to speak to ignore the increasing pressure on her head, even as the Ethereals began talking heatedly in the background. “Your turn. What are you?”

“I am…” he paused. “…was…an Axis of the Zudjari Mosaic. One who regularly communicated with Origin.”

“I have no idea what any of that is.”

The alien paused, considering. “This galaxy…Yang…” he stumbled over her name hesitantly, not specifically sure if she wanted to be called that. At a nod he continued. “This galaxy is vast, expansive, and unique. But it is not an accident. Those that inhabit it are not products of chance. It is…” he paused. “A puzzle. A _mosaic_. The galaxy are these with the pieces scattered; the mosaic broken. That is what my species learned, and it is upon us to rebuild this broken Mosaic into what it was originally.”

He looked back down on her. “Every species, every planet, no matter how great or insignificant, is a part of this Mosaic. It was the mission of the Axis’, _my_ mission, to determine what the purpose of these species and planets was.”

Yang raised an eyebrow under her helmet. It was, she had to admit, an interesting reason to give to conquer the galaxy. “And how did you know what the purpose was?”

“Origin.”

“Which means nothing to me.”

“Origin existed before this galaxy was broken,” he explained slowly. “The cataclysm which shattered it killed the original creators. Yet Origin survived, rebuilt, and determined that our species were the ones who would put it back together. And…we failed.”

Even through the deep voice, Yang heard the bitterness and self-loathing, as well as sensing it with her heightened telepathy. She didn’t think it would be ideal to ask questions, such as how they knew Origin was something real, or pointing out that the concept of a galactic ‘mosaic’ was somewhat questionable, given how species had likely risen, expanded, and died, without the Zudjari ever knowing about them.

Unless the ‘mosaic’ was not supposed to be something static. Perhaps she could ask him about it later, assuming they got out of here alive.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said with a shrug. “You’re still alive.”

“I suspect these Ethereals have more selfish reasons for the subjugation of the galaxy. My survival means little in light of this.”

He did have a point. “Stick to the Battlemaster,” she finally said. “He’s reasonable. I doubt he’ll agree with you on everything, but as far as best utilizing things…he knows what he is doing. He’s one of the good ones. Not,” she motioned one of her swords around. “Like this.”

“I feel I don’t have a choice,” Axis muttered. “They are more powerful than I am, regardless. The black armored one, he is unsettling. The other robed one is as well, even as she is a complete opposite. I am already in a trap, and unlike you, I have no desire to stay in it.”

“Maybe you can ask them to put you back in the pod,” Yang said as they rounded a corner. “But right now, I would assume life is preferable to death. I’m sure they can come to some kind of agreement with you. The Imperator did for me.”

“The one who allowed this place to exist?”

“Yeah,” Yang scowled. “Trust me, he’s going to be getting enough questions from the three Ethereals here now. I’m sure he has some explanation…he should hope it is a good one.”

“Would it matter?”

Yang thought about that, and then came to an unfortunate realization that the Zudjari had another good point. “Probably not,” she admitted. “Furious as the Battlemaster is…he is loyal to the Imperator. All of them are.”

Even if the Battlemaster lost his trust in the Imperator, he wouldn’t do anything else. He might hate it, but he would keep working towards his mission. All of them would. The Imperator couldn’t be challenged or beaten. At least not successfully, and _all_ of them knew it. For better or worse, the Imperator was the unquestioned power in the galaxy.

She’d only see him use it responsibly, but even he, she supposed, could make mistakes or misuse it. But he _had_ to know that abusing it as such would decrease loyalty.

This was a mess.

She needed answers. They all did.

Yang perked up as she looked to the end of the hallway. There it was, a working Gateway, though it was definitely designed differently. It was an inverted V which would be barely tall enough for the Battlemaster to fully fit through. But it could be done, and the swirling and rippling psionic energy filled the V, flashing between obscuring and transparent where Yang could see the faint image of something on the other side.

“Battlemaster!” She called. “I think this is the Gateway.”

They all were around it soon enough. “We should be careful,” Sana advised. “It could be a trap. Or one could be waiting on the other side.”

“This is not a Gateway design,” the Battlemaster noted, placing an armored hand on the black metal which made the structure. “She changed it…not even Fectorian has yet.”

“Who is she working with?” Axis asked. “She could not have done this on her own.”

“She was gifted the resources of the Collective,” the Battlemaster said slowly. “Personnel, information, equipment. But she was in charge. And she could not have learned how to construct or manipulate Sovereign technology. Not without us knowing.”

“Unless the Imperator hid it,” Mortis added bitterly. “This Imperator certainly keeps secrets. There is far more going on here than any of us think.”

“We still need to move forward,” the Battlemaster said. “I will go through, then come back if it is safe. I can survive ambushes if necessary.”

“No,” Yang stepped forward. “Can’t risk any of you. Not if we want as many people out alive as possible. Let me go through, I’m more expendable.”

“Technically, that would be our other alien friend,” Mortis said, gesturing to Axis. “But you are a brave alien.”

The Battlemaster looked down at her, thinking. “We will be trapped regardless of if I survive or not. It makes little difference who is more or less valuable. If you wish, come with me as I investigate. I will not deny you that.”

Well, it was certainly better than just waiting here anxiously. And she did feel some pride at the Battlemaster allowing her along. It at least showed she was worth something. “Then let’s go,” she said.

“If it is safe, one of us will return,” the Battlemaster said as both of them walked to the Gateway.

Taking a breath, Yang stepped into the psionic portal.

***

_Level 2, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

_Welcome home._

Yang gasped as they stepped through the Gateway, a couple seconds which felt like an eternity as she felt the very reality around her change. The feeling of being watched magnified tenfold; she no longer wondered if something was watching her, she _knew_ it was. The air itself seemed charged, and she felt significantly stronger and more aware.

The psionic connection she possessed had expanded, as if this was a nexus of psionic energy. And _just_ beyond the veil between the Psionosphere and reality was a presence, something that had an all-seeing eye on her. It didn’t feel malicious, but it was terrifying just how close it was. How profoundly _wrong_ it all felt.

“Yang.” She jolted as the Battlemaster placed a hand on her shoulder, taking her out of the trance. She shook her head and looked around where they were.

It was a circular room, one with the steeples angling to a simple center point. But the room was no longer just a sterile metal room. Harsh red and white lights lit the room, though not from electronics, but what appeared to be strange organic objects which lined the walls. And the walls themselves were an unsettling fusion of metal and flesh, and towards the exits – two of them – there were noticeably beating organic…things.

“I…” Yang swallowed. “Something is watching us. All of us. It’s not the Creator.”

The Battlemaster took a few tentative steps forward, weapon at the ready. “Will it attack?”

Of course, he couldn’t sense it. “I…don’t know,” she whispered, and the presence seemed to be…almost amused. “It’s…it’s in the Psionosphere, I think…can’t you feel how weak the barrier is here?”

“Yes, but not in the same way you do,” he said slowly. “This must be artificial. The degradation of the Psionosphere should be impossible.”

_It is the future. One where all will feel the euphoria experienced now._

“[Fuck!]” She hissed, reverting to Chinese briefly as that clear sentence simply appeared in her mind. It was gentle; warm; inviting; _certain_.

The Battlemaster spun to her. “What is it?”

“It’s talking,” she said immediately, her weapons immediately in her hands. “To me.”

“It attacked?”

“No! It just…appeared in my mind. I didn’t even sense it happening.”

The Battlemaster looked around for a moment, then walked over to the wall, near a concentration of the flesh-like substance, and made a slight incision on it. Yang understood what he was doing, especially once a few of the nanites slid off it and began eating the flesh around it. It would take time, but it would soon start consuming the room.

 _Life will endure. Metal will not_.

 _Shut up_. She thought in return.

“We should bring the rest,” the Battlemaster said. “Return and I will stay here.”

Yang nodded, eager to get back even if it was temporary. A few seconds later she was back in front of the Twins and Axis. “Clear, for now. But…be careful. There is something else here.”

“How?” Axis demanded, even as they moved to the Gateway.

“Have you felt like someone has been watching you?” She asked over her shoulder. “Down there…it’s much worse.”

They all stepped through…

And into a fight.

The Battlemaster was in a duel with…something…it almost looked to her like a knight. It was a piece of armor that made the Battlemaster’s look like something crudely forged, a deep silver metal with deep blue shapes and symbols engraved over it. It was an organic, sleek, and beautiful design which concluded in an eyeless helmet that emulated the design of the Winged Hussars, with appendages extending off the sides of the helmet up.

The weapon it held was a simple katana, or at least appeared to be.

A katana encased in psionic flame, a ghostly purple which somehow didn’t seem to damage the metal.

The duel between it and the Battlemaster was moving at a speed which Yang could barely keep track of even now. So quick were the strikes of the mysterious opponent, and she was seeing just how fast the Battlemaster could retaliate…in addition to also fending off the six other Caretakers in the room, including a massive…animal of some kind.

The hairless, six-legged creature leapt at the Battlemaster, the mouth opened wide, exposing the unnatural rows of teeth within. The Battlemaster sent a telekinetic blast towards the armored enemy, who somehow stood resolutely, even if it was distracted as the Battlemaster stabbed upward towards the beast.

It struck true, right through the mouth to the brain, and the Battlemaster immediately slashed up through the skull to meet another blow from the figure. Yang’s weapons were already out and telepathically being directed towards the nearest Caretaker who sneered as she turned – a decaying Human – and raised an arm before she reached out and crushed the head of the Caretaker, which emitted a brief blue flash.

Sana was immediately encased in psionic energy, as the empowering aura began filling the room. The figure dueling the Battlemaster shouted, and two Caretakers immediately teleported towards Sana. They appeared behind her, and then stood frozen as she gestured at them, right as Axis stabbed an Outsider shard into the brain of one, and then grabbed the head of another, psionic energy now encasing the Zudjari.

The duelist the Battlemaster was facing was somehow withstanding an overhead slash downwards. Yang directed one of her swords towards him, and somehow holding the Battlemaster off with one hand, he looked directly at her and the air around her crackled as the Psionosphere was torn into a rift.

She dashed out of the way, even as the rift left deep scorches in her armor, and right into the waiting hand of a robed Caretaker, one pale hand resting on her chest armor. This one was a Sectoid. Another went to her head as she felt a beginnings of a psionic attack. “Do not resist,” the Sectoid said, as it didn’t begin attacking her mind…not directly.

The barrier she felt between the real word and the…thing which watched her…that was coming apart. A ghostly hand reaching out to her mind, a presence which longed to be a part of her. Yang felt the terror rise in her, and through the paralyzing spell the Caretaker had placed her under, punched it in the face.

The feeling dissipated, and that was all she needed to recall with one hand one of her blades, and with the other, catch the robed alien in a telekinetic grip. Blue energy flowed off it, but when the blade reached her hand, she stabbed upwards to its brain, impaling it and splattering blood over her helmet.

Blinking rapidly at what had nearly happened, she looked around. Two Caretakers had tried going after Mortis, and they lay dead on the floor. Apparently Mortis didn’t consider them worth expending any more energy than a simple telepathic command, and was walking to where the Battlemaster and the armored alien were engaged in one of the fastest-moving fights she could see.

Normally the Battlemaster would have ended it by now, but in addition to being a duelist of some kind, it also had some skill with defensive psionics, as the armor was now shielded with blue ‘plates’. Yang moved to assist how she could, and realized that she couldn’t. Looking down she saw that she was stepping on a section of the floor which was made out of the same flesh substance on the walls.

Except she was up to her ankles in it.

The armored figure suddenly flashed blue, and the Battlemaster was encased in a cage, and immediately retaliated by locking the figure in a telekinetic vise. A major mistake, Yang saw. The Battlemaster was just as dangerous a psion as he was a duelist.

A fact the figure seemed to have forgotten.

And then it suddenly keeled over, limp. Yang looked to Mortis, with an outstretched hand. The psionic barriers dissipated, and the Battlemaster immediately walked over to the body as silence fell over the room.

Only it was not silence. Yang could then hear beating. A heartbeat.

Slow. Ponderous. Deafening in the silence.

Mortis looked to her, and Yang looked down to see that the flesh which had encased her ankles was now a disgusting pale slurry, one she shook off her boots and stepped onto the metal. The Battlemaster and Mortis were talking ahead. “What _was_ that?”

“I don’t know,” the Battlemaster said, kneeling down and attempting to take the helmet off it. “But it was exceptionally skilled. Its technique was as good as mine…and a better psion.”

“Where could it possibly learn that?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a Bladedancer.”

“A what?”

“Irrelevant. They did not train this.” The helmet was taken off, to reveal a slim Human of all things. One slightly pale, but unlike the Caretakers, in relatively healthy condition. But it had definitely undergone extensive modification. The sightless eyes were an unnatural blue, and the skin was reminiscent of the Iron Skin modification ADVENT and XCOM employed. Only far more intricate. Triangles inside circles inside squares, overlayed thousands of times. Barely perceptible in the dim light, but obvious when looked at from the right angle.

“Don’t let those things touch you,” Yang warned as she strode up. “They don’t do standard telepathic attacks. They-”

“What has your Imperator done!?” Axis stormed over furiously, tossing the corpse of a Caretaker onto the ground before all of them. “Do you have _any_ idea what this is?!”

“Do _you_?” The Battlemaster demanded.

“I thought it impossible,” Axis spat. “But I made the mistake of touching the mind of this thing – and found a memetic telepathic command.”

Yang furrowed her eyebrows. “What is that?”

“A psionic theory in the Empire,” Sana said. “Never truly experimented with. It-“

“A virus,” Axis supplied. “A virus which is spread telepathically. This _exact_ same thing almost killed half of the psions in the Mosaic. If you hadn’t been prepared – if _I_ hadn’t realized what it was…it infects your mind. It would turn you into one of _them_.”

“Did that happen?” Yang began, then shook her head. “Wait, are you saying this is the _same_ memetic command?”

“Oh, yes,” he growled. “Because I was one of the first who learned to protect myself from this command – and then ripped the knowledge from the minds of these things. Don’t ask me how it started, but we found a psionic alien – decaying similarly to what these appear to be doing…and brought him to help.” Yang heard the hiss of disgust. “Our psions read his mind…and then became corrupted. Entire planets were lost as these things converted the populations. Turned them into more of these creatures.”

“Where did it come from?” The Battlemaster demanded.

“They believed they were working for some goal,” Axis stated. “Enacting the will of something called the Bringer of Paradise. A delusion most likely, but memetic commands have that effect. We purged all of them, but it seems this Creator wasn’t under the same intelligence.”

Yang shuddered, as the presence tingled on the edge of her consciousness. “I don’t know…I think this Bringer might be real.”

“I am inclined to agree with this assessment,” Mortis added, glancing back at the dead corrupted Human. “When I touched his mind, even for a moment, I was immediately retaliated against. It was…unlike anything I had ever felt. It didn’t feel like a command per-se, but like an attack with a presence behind it.” He looked up. “There is something else here, most of us can feel it. Be careful when telepathically fighting…it would be unfortunate if our guards were let down and we succumbed to this.”

“Regardless, if this Bringer exists we simply kill it as well,” the Battlemaster said. “They know we are here now. Be careful where you step and fight. It appears these walls and floors are dangerous.” He glanced to the wall where he’d sliced it earlier, where the nanites had expanded to take over a significant portion of the flesh square. “Begin nanite infection where you can. If we perish here, they will consume everything else.”

He waved his black sword forward. “Move forward. Kill whatever you find.”

They stepped forward, even as the heartbeat echoed in their ears.

***

_Level 2, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

Perhaps, the Battlemaster realized, he had spoken too soon.

Both Mortis and Sana were speaking with Axis, specifically about protecting themselves against the command implanted in these Caretakers, and the entity that was supposedly watching all of them. The clues were there, and the Battlemaster was no longer certain he actually _could_ easily kill whatever this Bringer was.

As difficult as it was to believe, the theory that stuck in his mind and persisted was that they were dealing with a rogue Sovereign One.

Even his mind questioned using the word _rogue_. This implied that rogue Sovereign Ones existed, and he assumed that the ones assisting them now might have mentioned this particular one. More importantly, if this _was_ a Sovereign One, the Imperator _had_ to know what it was…and he could only assume it had been given free reign.

Distasteful as it was, if this Bringer _was_ a Sovereign, he could see why the Imperator would grant it extra freedoms.

It didn’t excuse what was happening here, but the pieces of why it seemed no one knew what was going on could be attributed to this. Too many pieces made sense for it not to be anything else. The strange abilities, the absurd level of genetic modification he had already seen, the resources, personnel, it was something that made little sense if one assumed it was the Creator, a talented geneticist but certainly no genius, who was behind this.

If she was being assisted by a Sovereign One, everything suddenly made far more sense.

Which then begged the question of why the Imperator was so insistent they ignore researching and implementing Sovereign technology. The Creator was clearly doing it, and if what he had seen was anything to go by, these soldiers would prove to be a challenge for any conventional army. There weren’t enough to make a difference, but if it was anyone other than three of the most dangerous Ethereals, a talented Human, and a powerful Zudjari, it would have resulted in death.

So he was assuming that he was dealing with a Sovereign One, which would also explain the strange presence all of them believed was watching them. Sovereigns were certainly capable of such from what he had seen. No Sovereign orbs had been observed though, which made him curious how it exerted it’s influence, because it certainly was not in the station itself.

Or was it?

They knew very little about Sovereigns. The common assumption was that they were large, the Voice had shared she had seen a massive creature that dwarfed her own size when they had communicated – one the size of a skyscraper. But it was a telepathic illusion. Perhaps he would see a Sovereign in the flesh for the first time.

If so…he was unsure how he could kill it, even with the support of Mortis and Sana.

“It’s getting darker,” Yang noted as they walked, moving past another room which seemed somewhat equivalent to an experimentation lab – if the primary decorator used beating heart-organs, and lined the walls and floors with flesh. It was empty, but the dull black tables were stained with yellow, red, and especially disturbing – blue.

“There may be another ambush,” the Battlemaster warned, lifting his weapon. “Prepare.”

There had been several more attempts since the fight in the entrance. Before they could do anything Mortis simply raised a hand and they died on the spot. He was in no mood to deal with annoyances, and neither was the Battlemaster. He was still concerned over the very real possibility of them being separated via a quick teleportation, but they would have to strike faster than Mortis could kill them.

An unlikely feat, although Mortis reported that they were at least trying to defend themselves. Failing, but trying.

And also that the virus described by Axis didn’t quite _feel_ like such, but like an active telepath was protecting them. A powerful one.

The Bringer?

The Battlemaster stabbed his blade into one of the beating organs. They had figured out that the slow beating that permeated the area was definitely caused by those – and alarmingly, Axis had reported that they were emitting some kind of limited telepathic field. As a result they destroyed them every single time they found one.

Unnatural. There were too many things here that shouldn’t be possible.

Is this what working directly with a Sovereign brought?

He wondered how much further they would have advanced if they had embraced working with the Sovereigns. However, such discussions could take place after they were out of here, which unfortunately was looking more and more difficult and dangerous.

“It’s getting taller,” Sana also noted, and the Battlemaster immediately saw what she was talking about. The ceiling which had remained high to start with, seemed to expand upwards into the void. Indication of a room ahead? A large one? This screamed of some kind of trap, and the additional comments didn’t dissuade that.

“Are those drapes?” Yang sounded confused, but indeed there were now ceremonial silver and blue drapes which hung from the walls, and up ahead was a literal curtain blocking the way forward. Perhaps a dining hall? A theatre? He would not have been surprised by either at this point.

“Do you sense anything?” He asked.

“No,” Sana said slowly. “But that means little. I haven’t sensed anything until it was right in front of me. This place clouds our ability to sense anything. But there is a large concentration of…something inside.”

Most likely enemies then. A trap of some kind. “Be ready,” he said, raising his sword in a defensive stance. “This may be a difficult fight.”

Yang spread her hands apart and telekinetically moved the curtain to the side. Pitch darkness was all they saw, but there was no other way but forward. Defenses raised, they half-moved, half-charged forward into blackness.

And stepped in front of an audience which immediately applauded their entrance.

The oddness of the immediate sight made him briefly hesitate, and he then saw that all of them were bathed in moonlight, a small circle which illuminated only them. He didn’t look to find the source, not yet. It turned out not to be an illusion, they were actually on a stage, in front of an audience of…robed Caretakers, and other armored and robed figures.

A quick count, from what he could tell, as the entire audience was only sparsely lit, also with moonlight, there were fifty. A small audience, but they made up for it in sheer enthusiasm. But they quickly took second priority when he paid attention to what was actually on the stage itself. There was an extremely ornamented table with, disturbingly enough, plenty of seats for everyone, including full dishes of food.

Then the other figure on the stage spoke.

“Representatives of the Ethereal Collective, welcome!” The voice was male, oddly…delicate… and even more strangely, was clearly accented in French, a Human language. The words were also English, and overall the voice made for something unexpected indeed. Which paled in comparison to the source of the voice itself.

It was perhaps the oddest thing he had seen yet, which certainly spoke to the surrealness of this place.

The source of the voice was a Sectoid, but most certainly _not_ an ordinary one. First it more closely resembled a Human in stature, if slightly taller than an average one. It was slightly less defined than a Vanguard, but that was a minor detail. It’s attire grabbed his eye; which was a full suit – complete with a tie – white conductor gloves, and dress shoes.

It’s face was smaller than even that of the Vanguards, and seemed to have a completely naturally designed mouth, which almost looked maniacal in contrast with the smooth noseless face, and the solid-blue eyes which glowed with power. Clearly a psion, and probably a dangerous one at that.

It carried few weapons, save for some kind of melee weapon on its waist the Battlemaster couldn’t quite see, and what appeared to be an old Human pistol strapped diagonally across its chest, both within easy grasp if necessary.

“Ah ah,” the Sectoid raised a finger as Mortis raised his hand. “None of that now, honored Ethereal. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to our other guests, now would you?” He elaborately motioned upwards and more shafts of moonlight illuminated the terrified forms of children, four Human, two Vitakarian, one Borelian, and one Dath’Haram.

Each of them were held in a strange grip of a creature, one with six appendages, all of which were holding fast to the wall they had pinned the children against. A head-like…thing rested at the respective place of this creature, and was just under the heads of the children. The Battlemaster couldn’t make out more details of these spider-like beings, but the message was clear enough.

“Now, now,” the Sectoid said with an air of confidence that normally would be delusional in front of an Ethereal. “I’m aware of all of you. The great Battlemaster, the gentle Sana, and radical Mortis. All three here tonight, in addition your disciple Yang, and the awakened Axis. Truly tonight is a spectacle to never be forgotten!”

He raised a hand and the crowd cheered further. “Now then,” he said, taking a short bow. “I am Preximius, your host for tonight. Understand that if you… _disrupt_ this fine evening, then there are certain consequences.”

Almost on cue, the creature with the leftmost child, a Human, moved the head upwards until two spiked appendages extended, and with a lightning motion, stabbed the child through the skull. Preximius closed his eyes, and rolled his head back as the creature kept the body suspended.

“Oh, fuck,” Yang breathed. “I might be sick.”

The Battlemaster had the feeling that she wasn’t simply referring to the act of murder. “Ah,” Preximius said contentedly. “Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is. An innocence and joy which is so often lost to the cold reality of the galaxy. Delicious and extraordinary, I certainly hope each of you enjoyed this fine appetizer?”

This seemed addressed to the crowd, which sickeningly applauded and laughed at this. “What kind of monster are you?!” Sana yelled. “Those are children!”

“They most certainly are, I have eyes if you couldn’t tell.” The crowd chuckled as the Sectoid moved to the head of the table. “And tonight we celebrated the life of one. A bright flame who lived a life of happiness, friendship, and love. All have their place, all touch us in some way, and now she is in Paradise, and as such, at His side.”

He shook his head. “Ah, such games we play. All of you are too attached to life. Indeed, resisting tonight would only send these young minds to the Paradise we can only touch in this mortal realm. Yet I must command your attention somehow, and this is certainly effective.” He motioned to the table. “Now, sit! Tonight will be a most entertaining evening indeed. We so rarely get such distinguished visitors.”

A hand touched his shoulder. “Give me time,” Mortis rumbled under his breath. “Keep this freak talking.”

The Battlemaster simply nodded. At the moment he didn’t want to sacrifice the children. He didn’t feel he was in mortal danger here…yet. Playing along might be beneficial. “Why?” He demanded.

Preximius heaved dramatically. “Because it is polite? You have been a rude guest to our home thus far-“

“We were attacked!”

“You dared to strike _His_ chosen Artist,” Preximius sounded genuinely offended. “Even for a simple brute such as you, that is too grave an insult to take lightly. Now, _sit_.”

Sana and Axis moved to take a seat, with Mortis moving in that direction. The Battlemaster stayed put, he wouldn’t follow the instructions of this thing. Yang hesitated, then stayed at his side. “Stubborn,” Preximius said with a dismissive wave. “Expected of a sightless. Yet tonight can continue as planned! Now, let us begin!”

Applause broke out, and amazingly, the Battlemaster saw a small orchestra begin playing. There was a mixture of primarily Human and Vitakara instruments, and in distaste he saw they had seemingly been modeled as though they were in corpses. This Sectoid couldn’t even make simple music without it being over-the-top….there was a Human word for this.

Edginess. Or shocking. Either way he did not appreciate whatever ‘artistic’ value it held.

The Sectoid suddenly frowned, then glanced up at the children who were still continuing to sob, struggle, and express to _someone_ the terror they felt. “No, this simply will not do,” he said. “I apologize for such disruption to our evening. Children sadly cannot quite understand the privilege they find themselves in here.”

The Battlemaster realized that he was referring to the fact that the sounds of the terrified children were disrupting the music the orchestra was playing below. Preximius closed his eyes, and there was a slight distortion in the air. The Battlemaster coldly determined his assumption was right as the children suddenly became quiet.

Until they began to sing instead.

No words, but their young voices instead joined in the music of the orchestra. Haunting and impeccable as if they had been trained for years. A choral addition which only brought juxtaposition to the rising music taking place in the madness and nightmare around them.

The faces of the children did not seem frightened any longer, but content as they sang for the crowd and guests of Paradise.

“There…” Preximius’s smile widened once more as he laced his fingers together and rested them on the table. “Perfect; such beautiful young voices to complement our evening.”

“You are a monster!” Sana spat furiously. “How could you-“

The Sectoid almost looked hurt. “Dear Sana, I would have thought you of all would understand. Terror and fear are self-destructive. It is cruel to let them suffer so needlessly.” He waved upwards. “And now they feel no such emotion. They only understand the contentment and joy that comes with Paradise. Can you really not understand this?”

“You are forcing them to do this against their will!”

“For their own benefit!” The Sectoid was undaunted. “And is that not what you say when you ease the pains of those who come to you. The experiments of the mind _you_ perform.” Preximius said the words with a malevolent glee. “Did you ever ask what _they_ wished? No! Because you simply knew it was for their own good! To ease their pain and suffering.”

Mortis glanced over at Sana, who glared furiously at the Sectoid. “Do not even begin to compare yourself to me.”

Mortis had also seemingly had enough of this.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t melt you and your audience,” Mortis growled. “Aside from holding _children_ of all things hostage.”

“Because you want to live,” Preximius said with a smile. “Death, kill, destroy, you are a simple creature with simple wants, are you not? Open your mind to some more pleasures in life. Food, music, art! Please, Mortis, I don’t intend to kill you, but I wish _so_ much to learn about our guests tonight. At least until the Imperator graces us with his presence.”

“And signs your death warrant,” Yang added.

“A comforting dream for you, child,” he looked to her with a ghoulish smile. “But no. I suspect that had the Imperator had… _concerns_ , I might very well not exist. And certainly _that_ would be a shame!” The crowd laughed.

Preximius turned his head back to Mortis as the music played in the background, a melody the Battlemaster didn’t recognize. “You think you’re so very special, wave your hand and things fall apart,” he raised his own hand daintily, fingers wiggling. “Only using it to tear down and destroy. At least your sister understands a broader application. One to shape, nurture, and grow!” He moved a hand over the meat on his plate, and it slowly began dissolving into a brown sludge. “But you are not the only one with such tricks, and I assure you I am but a mere novice compared to our wondrous Patron.”

He clapped his hands together. “Now! Our first show of the evening! Mortis, you will take center stage. Give us a show!” There was a laborious pounding, the sound of something large walking forward. “Remember! The children rest in your hands.”

From the opposite end of the stage, a massive beast walked out. A huge black-skinned creature, one towering over even the Battlemaster, the visage alone was intimidating enough. Sharp claws, dual wings on it’s back, oddly hanging and moving tentacles lined the body, and the head held six eyes, all of which glared hungrily down upon Mortis.

The hands began swirling in uncontrolled psionic energy…

And then it collapsed to the ground and didn’t rise.

Mortis hadn’t even spared the creature a look. “I am not in the mood, Sectoid.”

Preximius had the gall – and somehow emotional capacity – to look _offended_. “No! No! Such a waste of life! You are indeed a _pitiful_ , _insipid_ creature! No respect for the simple art of delivering a distinguished death!” He shook his head, voice rising. “Death is a celebration! A joyous event delivered with rapture. It is not the sterile cold thing you deliver. The _nerve_!”

The Sectoid jumped up, pointing at Yang. “You! Let us demonstrate a proper show! On guard!”

The melee weapon he had, which the Battlemaster now saw was a _rapier_ of all things, appeared in his hand and with a wave he teleported in front of Yang and jabbed forward, just before she managed to get one of her swords out and deflect it.

“Yes! Excellent!” He shouted jubilantly to the applause of the crowd.

Yang shouted in surprise as she began fighting the elegant dance both now found themselves in. “He’s getting in my head!” She shouted, panicked. “I’m not doing-“

“Such chatter, Yang!” Preximius said with a smile as he expertly dueled the clearly less experienced woman. It was quickly apparent that this seemingly frail Sectoid was extremely robust, and more disturbingly, intended to be _toying_ with her. Light strikes which caused no damage, but unbalanced her. Near misses. Even she got a few swings in.

It was as if the Sectoid was doing his best to make it _exciting_.

Enough was enough.

A psionic charge forward slammed directly into the far smaller Sectoid, and even as he went flying a slash opened up that fancy suit he wore. The Battlemaster pulled Yang back as the sputtering Sectoid rose. “You _dare_ to interrupt? And here I thought you had _honor_!”

“We are done,” the Battlemaster said flatly. If Mortis wasn’t ready, it was too bad. The Sectoid waved a hand over himself and the weeping flesh healed over. “Move or die.”

“You seal their deaths!” Preximius hissed, raising a hand, bathed in silver moonlight. “Let the children go to Paradise!”

The Battlemaster charged forward, but the Sectoid simply teleported to the end of the room, then frowned as he glanced up. The creatures holding the children were…still. “Impossible,” he growled. “Unless…ah ha!”

“Have you ever been under a biopathic attack?” Mortis asked quietly, psionic energy encircling him. “A real one? I’ve been told it isn’t pleasant.”

That was when the Battlemaster noticed that the music had gone silent, and the children had ceased singing. And it had been like that for some time. A quick glance to the crowd showed that while Preximius had been trying to work his show…Mortis had begun a biopathic assault on the crowd. And now they were beginning to feel the effects.

Moans, grunts of pain, and even a brief scream or two began filling the theatre. “I have a strategy,” Mortis continued, taking a step forward, voice dangerously low. “The weak parts of the body first. Organs. Squishy, weak, things. The eyes are the first. Your vision blurs, fluid leaks out of your ears as your brain begins melting, you feel sweat drip off you, until you realize that it is not sweat, but your skin forming a puddle on the ground.”

The Sectoid inexplicably smiled as Mortis continued speaking. “The loss of your skin leaves muscle underneath. Muscle unprotected by skin. It does not matter what you are, you feel the pain. You scream. And scream. And you feel as your body dissolves cell by cell until nothing is left but mush and liquid. It is a painful way to die,” a hand extended towards the Sectoid. “As you will experience now.”

The Sectoid hissed, his own arm flaring with psionic power, then froze as Mortis unleashed a full biopathic attack on him. It was fascinating to watch for the Battlemaster as the Sectoid suddenly had to devote his own skill to healing himself, as the skin off his face began dripping off, and then healed.

But the Sectoid performer would not outlast Mortis. Especially not as he was enraged.

Yet the Sectoid just laughed in a high mad pitch. “A _masterful_ showing, Ethereal.”

A low bow accompanied the words, even as the Biopathy continued ravaging his body. “And here I was afraid you were a mere killer, no,” Preximius gave a toothless, unsettling smile. “You _do_ understand. Well done.” The Battlemaster heard no scorn or malice in the words, but even more disturbing, sincerity.  

Preximius straightened up and waved to a non-existent crowd. “We shall meet again!” With a flourish he teleported himself away and there was silence in the theatre. Silence except for the faint cries of children and the heartbeat of Paradise. The Battlemaster looked to where the audience was, and saw that the occupants had been reduced to a slurry of dissolved liquid and bone in colors of yellow, red, and flesh.

Yang spoke first. “Just what the fuck was _that_?”

“Something I will finish killing later,” Mortis said, though the Battlemaster could tell from his tone that he was unsettled by the reaction the Sectoid had to his skin melting off his body. He stood there as Sana and the Battlemaster went to the children who, while they were no longer singing, were almost black-faced in the grip of the things which held them. It was a simple matter to remove the creatures, as Axis had dominated their minds which had prevented them from following the Sectoid’s command in the first place. The Battlemaster took a significant amount of pleasure in killing several, while Yang killed the rest.

As it turned out, the child which had been killed was…not dead, but not especially alive. She appeared to be affected by the telepathic equivalent of a chryssalid egg. One which began corrupting the body immediately. Her eyes were streaked with blue, and she thrashed as whatever had been implanted in her took hold.

Mortis killed her with a thought. Forever this time.

Sana put the rest of the surviving children into a deep slumber, as they stood around to discuss what to do. “We can’t take them with us,” Mortis said grimly. “But if we leave, they might just die anyway.”

“There is no choice,” Axis interjected. “They are far from the only victims here.”

“Yes…” Mortis shot a look at the Battlemaster. “Test subjects are one thing, Battlemaster, _children_ are quite another. I suppose you had no idea this was happening.”

The Battlemaster shook his head. A response he knew he had no excuse for.

This was, in some way, his fault.

“There were not supposed to be children,” he said hollowly. “I made that explicit.”

Mortis looked at the sleeping children…and one dead one. “Excellent job. Tremendous.”

“Enough!” He finally spat. “You have no idea what is going on!”

“Neither do you, it seems!” He shot back.

“You do not get to wake up and judge everything you see!” The Battlemaster spat. “Do you think I _want_ all of this? That _any_ of us want this? We’re not in the Empire, Mortis! Things have changed!”

“And it does not appear to be for the better,” Mortis nodded. “But I agree. You aren’t the problem here. You appear to be a willful and ignorant pawn of this Imperator, who just believes everything said.”

“Oh, shut up,” Yang interjected, scathing irritation in her voice. “Prior to this, I know the Battlemaster had damn good reason to believe him. The Imperator clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing sometimes, I agree on that point, and especially right now. But the Battlemaster,” she pointed. “Is the only one who appears to actually care about the Collective that was built. You want to yell at someone? Yell at all the other Ethereals who haven’t been doing _anything_ outside their pet projects. Which happens to include your _sister_.”

The Battlemaster had not expected a defense…from her of all people. He gave the woman a nod of appreciation, as Mortis turned to Sana. “How accurate is what the human says?”

“I have a name.”

“Yang,” he said flatly. “How accurate is this.”

Sana released a sigh. “More than I want to admit. The Battlemaster has…held the Collective together. Not perfectly, but he…is not responsible for this. Nor do I say he is a simple tool. Such would imply the Imperator cared enough to use him.”

“I see,” Mortis sighed. “This place has me on edge. I…apologize, Battlemaster. We…should focus on completing our mission.”

“Apology accepted,” the Battlemaster looked around, feeling mentally exhausted. “I agree we should continue moving. Arguing serves no one. Not now.”

“Where to?” Axis finally asked. “And what about the children?”

“We can’t take them with us,” the Battlemaster said grimly. “But leaving them leaves them vulnerable.”

“We could kill them,” Axis suggested. “It would be better than remaining here.”

“We do not intentionally kill children,” the Battlemaster ground out. “No.”

“And leaving them alive to experience this is better?” Axis crossed his arms. “This is mercy, Battlemaster, not malice.”

“No.”

“Here,” Sana knelt down by the head of one of the silent Vitakarian children. “I’ll place them in a psionically induced sleep, where only I can awaken them. I will also know if it is broken or harm comes to them. They will live…and not suffer one way or another.”

“And how do you know they won’t bypass it regardless?” Axis pressed. “If one thing should be clear, it is that these particular being do _not_ follow convention. What would work for…well, what you expect, may not work against them.”

“It is better than killing them,” she responded, steadfast.

“Do that,” the Battlemaster ordered. “We will be sure to recover them before we leave.”

As Sana performed that, the Battlemaster looked around for an exit and saw several paths; through the theatre seats, or another route. “We follow where that beast came from,” he pointed his sword at the right stage end, opposite where they’d come out of, once Sana had finished putting the children into the psionic sleep. “Unless anyone objects?”

“As good a route as any,” Yang said. “And if it’s a dead end, we can try again.”

They all seemed to agree to that, and then exited stage right. Deeper into the nightmare they knew wasn’t even close to over.

***

_Level 2, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

That incident with the Sectoid – Preximius – had been terrifying. Even her enhanced mental defenses seemed to mean nothing as the alien had easily slid through the gaps, and started a barrage of small telepathic commands.

_Dodge! Back! Forward! Stab!_

Her body had complied immediately, and the duel choreographed by the Sectoid proceeded as the performer decreed, while she just inwardly shouted and tried fighting back. She had been reduced to a puppet for the malicious delight of an adoring crowd.

A deep satisfaction filled her at the thought of the audience being reduced to sludge.

If she somehow survived this – a feat looking less and less likely – she was going to have to improve her own skills significantly. Perhaps it wasn’t her fault she hadn’t been prepared to enter this particular hell, but she had to be prepared for anything it seemed.

Insane, well-dressed, and French Sectoids for example.

“I wonder if they realized they can’t kill us,” the Battlemaster commented as they walked.

The halls seemed to be growing more winding, and the sounds became more visceral. Yang was fairly certain the squishing sounds were from the station itself moving around them. Indeed, Mortis had briefly gone backwards and reported that the passageway they had been in had closed behind them seamlessly.

As a result he was liquefying any kind of biological material he was coming across.

It was like they were trapped in some knockoff American horror movie, only real and much worse than any movie director would ever portray. She found it somewhat ironic that after this, it was going to take a _lot_ to ever actually scare her again. Isomnum notwithstanding, but she never intended to end up in his presence again. Or see him, for that matter.

“Their forces are becoming more sophisticated,” Axis said, responding to the Battlemaster’s comment. “They do not seem to send these Caretakers against us any longer.”

“Not that,” the Battlemaster clarified, as he telekinetically crushed one of the beating organs on the walls, which Mortis began liquefying. “They _can’t kill us_. Not if they wish to avoid retribution. The Imperator does seem to have authority here, and they know if that we die…it will go badly for them.”

“They could still trap us,” Mortis pointed out.

“Yes,” the Battlemaster agreed. “They could. That concerns me. They believe that if all of us remain alive…then the Imperator will not punish them.”

“And what are we going to do if he makes that his command?” Yang wondered, twirling her swords in her hand, trying to keep her guard up. The presence watching her was muted…or at least lesser thanks to Axis sharing a far more effective means of protection, but she still felt it and it made the hairs on her neck stand up.

“There will be no such command,” the Battlemaster said. “If the Imperator commands such, then I will ignore it.”

“How?” Yang wondered. Not that she was against the idea, but she didn’t know how feasible it actually was.

“I will order Deusian to destroy this place,” he said. “She can do so easily.”

“Who?” Mortis asked.

“A Reaper,” Sana clarified. “The last one, in fact.”

“And what if the Imperator countermands that?” Yang pressed. “Will she listen to you or him?”

The Battlemaster was silent for a moment. “I do not know. But I will not willingly allow this place to exist.”

“For what it is worth,” Mortis added, as he finished liquefying the nearest wall. “You will have my support in this.”

“Mine as well,” Sana added. “This is too far to allow, even for the Imperator.”

“We’ve got some company,” Axis interjected, pointing forward and Yang grimaced as they saw a familiar figure.

“I do not believe you understand how important that show was to Preximius,” the Umbra said dryly, hands clasped in front of her. “He puts a certain effort into his shows, and his audience being reduced to sludge in the middle of a performance will certainly damage his reputation.”

“Stand aside, or you will join their number,” the Battlemaster rumbled, not halting his movement. “You will not kill us.”

The Umbra was wearing slightly different attire now. While the basic robe was maintained, at her hip was a holster for a sleek black pistol, and a gleaming Dath’Haram blade coated in a bright red substance was hung telekinetically suspended at her side. She was prepared for a fight, even if Yang wondered if she could take a hit.

Something told her that this alien was good at dodging.

“Kill you?” The Umbra gave a beautiful smile. “That is a decision for the Saints. I am merely a servant for them and the Bringer himself. I have my instructions.”

Saints? Yang wondered why this Bringer seemed very attached to Human religious names and concepts. Perhaps it was simple translation. English was a Human language, and she suspected those same concepts existed in alien culture. Regardless, it confirmed there was definitely some kind of chain of command here.

“You have caused us a great many problems,” the Umbra continued. “For one concerned with the lives of those here, your decision to release the Exterminator is perplexing.”

“The Sovereign Orb began on its own,” the Battlemaster said, stopping a short distance from her. “I did not intentionally activate it.”

She tapped a gloved finger to her chin in thought. “I suppose it does not matter. The machines consume all, even those you wished to save. In the end you achieved little here but death. Does that satisfy you?”

“No,” the Battlemaster said, lifting the sword and pointing the bloodied tip at her. “But the blood is on your hands. Not ours.”

“A matter of debate, yet I have spent enough time talking,” she gently reached out and took a Dath’Haram blade in her hand and flourished it before him. “I have my orders. You are protected for now. But the other aliens do not have this luxury.”

Yang realized what was happening and leapt away….

And right into a portal that materialized in that direction, and flung her onto a cold metal floor. She immediately stood in a darkened room, and was struck by how constrained and confounding it was. Two people could fit through the corridors at most, and she was in a large circular room, with corridors leading every which way.

Axis had also been thrown into the same room, and he stood as well. The light just barely illuminated the room, as a blue flash saw the Umbra walk out, with a smile on her face. “Now,” she said. “We have all the time we need.”

Axis’s suit activated, shielding him in crystal as psionic energy formed around him as he likely began a telepathic attack. Yang began her own attack, telekinetically tossing a sword to the Dath’Haram while leaping towards her with the other in hand. The Umbra closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, the blue glow of power filled them.

With a flick of her wrist the thrown sword didn’t even get close and was automatically recalled to Yang’s hand while she began attacking with the other. With a few exchanges, Yang realized that she was just as outmatched as she had been against Preximius. The woman handled her blade like a delicate instrument, and moved like a dancer.

Yang’s own strikes seemed obvious and clumsy by comparison, and the grim smirk that permanently rested on the face of the alien simply showed that this was as real a duel as the one Yang had previously taken part in. Axis gestured and the Umbra was encased in a psionic box, but within a mere second she vanished and appeared behind the Zudjari, hand flashing to the sidearm on her waist and fired a blast of contained purple energy at him which cracked the crystal and sent him sprawling forward.

“Admirable,” the Umbra said as she flourished her weapon. “But not nearly enough. You will both serve him well, once you _understand_ and accept the gift that will be offered.” Yang lashed out with a telekinetic grip, which the Umbra responded with by teleporting again, and suddenly Yang was thrown to the ground by a returned telekinetic throw.

She lay pinned on the ground by the same force, the Umbra’s arm extended down to her as she slowly walked forward. “Rest easy, Yang. No need to fight it now.”

Yang struggled, but the Dath’Haram was too strong. She had beaten her easily.

But she would still fight to the bitter end. She would force the alien to kill her, but she would _not_ become one of these things.

There was a sudden green-blue flash and the silver blur of a new weapon and the Umbra hissed in pain before instantly teleporting several meters away, her arm on the ground. In her place stood a completely new figure.

Clad in stony black armor, left fist clenched and the other holding a forged sword, and a black helmet obscuring the face of whoever it was, the figure didn’t look like one of the normal inhabitants. The voice that came out of it though, was not exactly what Yang had expected. “You would do well to step away,” a female British accent said, flourishing her own blade in warning. “At the moment, I’m perfectly fine with dicing everyone here into little pieces.”

The Umbra for the first time looked curiously at the figure, even as the stump of her arm bled. “What are _you_?” She asked, seemingly not dissuaded from continuing the battle as she lifted the blade in her good hand. “You should not be here.”

“On that I agree,” the other woman pointed her sword at the Umbra. “I’d heard the stories of what happens here, but unfortunately it’s somehow worse.”

The Umbra pursed her lips and as she took a step forward, teleported to right in front of the armored woman who immediately matched her blow, and both began a series of exchanges that were almost too fast for her eyes to follow. The armored woman seemed to treat the fight the same way the Dath’Haram was – as a dance.

Spins, deflections, quick foot movements, it was a mixture of delicacy and precision. The Umbra realized she was dealing with someone who wasn’t a novice, and flashed behind the armored woman, who flashed in a blue-green light and stabbed the sword through the Umbra’s stomach, who immediately teleported away.

The armored woman let out a low chuckle. “Do you think you’re the first person to try that trick?” She lowered her sword to the side in a ready stance, other arm up for balance. “You’re a novice at it.”

She took her sword in both hands, holding it by her head as the point was directed at the Umbra and charged forward in a blur that seemed to be faster than the Battlemaster’s psionic charge. The already-stunned Umbra barely moved out of the way, and retaliated with a stab as the armored woman blinked out of existence and appeared right behind the Umbra and stabbed.

This time the alien was prepared for it, and similarly teleported just as the armored woman reversed her grip and stabbed backward, nearly impaling the alien in the eye as both teleported away again, several meters from each other. “For the record,” the armored woman said, returning to her ready stance. “The other one who tried that against me was better than you.”

“I doubt it,” the Umbra’s voice betrayed no pain, and Yang wondered how best she could intervene, especially as Axis was also getting up. “You should not have been able to penetrate this deep.”

“I’ve been told that,” the woman responded. “You know when you are beaten. Unless you want to meet your Bringer, then leave.” The woman began having the bluish-green energy mirror her body in a near hologram-like effect. “This is your one warning.”

The Umbra saw it, and seemed to consider her options, then with a blue flash she vanished, leaving them alone in the metal arena. Yang eyed the woman warily. Despite helping them…she wasn’t sure this if was an ally or not. Especially with that particular armor. “I didn’t think I would be saving your lives,” the woman said, turning to them. “But for now, it seems there is a common enemy.”

“Who are you?” Axis asked with similar wariness.

“Ah, yes,” the woman reached up and took off her helmet, revealing a surprisingly young woman with pale skin, white-silver hair and eyes that looked hazel or green, Yang couldn’t tell which in the dim light. “Fiona Dorren. And until recently, in opposition to the Ethereal Collective. In short, your enemy,” she nodded to Yang. “Although I don’t know about you.”

She cocked her head at the Zudjari. “I haven’t seen you before. Or your species for that matter.”

“You are from Earth?” Axis didn’t seem to hear her question. “One of the Humans fighting these Ethereals?”

“Yes, I am,” Fiona looked at the alien with some curiosity. “And I suppose you aren’t here willingly?”

“He was in a stasis pod,” Yang supplied. “Along with an Ethereal. Mortis’Ligna. We needed help here, and woke both up.”

“Mortis is awake?” Fiona blinked, then frowned. “Actually, wait. We can talk as we move. Despite being on opposite…or mostly opposite sides,” she shot a glance to the Zudjari. “We both want to get out of here. I help you get out, or get you back to whatever Ethereals that are here, and you answer my questions.”

At Yang’s hesitation Fiona grimaced, putting her helmet on. “You will die without my help. You know that, right?”

“I will travel with her,” Axis stepped forward. “I have no loyalty to the Ethereals, and I do intend to leave this place alive. You would do well to join us.”

Yang sighed. Axis already knew a lot, and Fiona was going to get information one way or another. And really, perhaps she could at least assure XCOM that the Seoul Massacre wasn’t actually their fault. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go with.”

“Good,” Fiona turned around as she appraised the number of doors around them. “Now we need to figure out where to go next.”

***

_Level 2, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

“She will live,” Sana said as they walked. “They would not kill her.”

“Unknown,” the Battlemaster muttered flatly. “The Imperator will value our lives. A Human and Zudjari are expendable.”

“Do you consider them such?”

“No.”

“Then the Imperator will have to make some concession,” Sana said with more confidence than he felt now. “He will understand.”

“Unless his plan is more important,” the Battlemaster said as he stabbed another beating organ. “He would sacrifice one of us if it accomplished his ultimate goal.”

“On a certain level, I can respect that,” Mortis said, his voice bitter. “Hard decisions need to be made. But not in service to whatever this thing is. There can be no good which comes from this.”

The Battlemaster felt somewhat annoyed with himself for actually caring about what happened to Yang, but it was a combination of actually talking with her and seeing just what this place was that made him concerned for what would happen to her. This was no place to die for anyone, especially not one like her.

The Zudjari he was less concerned about on a personal level, but would have preferred he live as he at least provided another ally against these corrupted aliens. Not to mention he ironically seemed to have more of an idea of what they were facing than any of them. His loss might prove to be a hindrance.

Regardless, the further they continued into this place, the angrier he felt. Anger was dangerous, the beginning of a loss of control, a breakdown of the meticulous and steady mindset he had developed for himself.

Yet he cared about preserving that less and less.

His highest wish now was to plunge his sword into the Creator’s heart, and then execute every being who was involved in this atrocity.

Rarely did he wish death on so high a scale, but there was no redeeming those who took part here. Only justice. Justice which translated to execution. It wouldn’t bring anyone back, or make his mistake of complacency better, but it would at least send a message and for once, he would know he was doing the right thing.

A rarer commodity these days. Even rarer in war.

What was considered ‘right’ was of course subjective. The word varied on organization and individual, but at least during the Empire he had known he was on a side he could rely on and believe in protecting. While he couldn’t say the Collective hadn’t given him a goal, the actions with which had been taken of late, culminating in this revelation, were further eroding this belief.

Unfortunate that there was only one side, and he was stuck on it. He was not a traitor to the Collective. It could be fixed, he knew that and wouldn’t run from the responsibility like Aegis did. But he could see much easier what would drive Aegis to such a radical path. Had Aegis learned of this?

Questions he needed some answers to. Questions which demanded his survival in the here and now.

“More up ahead,” Mortis muttered, as the Battlemaster noticed that ahead was a medium-sized box-like room with a fixed exit. One which was guarded by two of the same type of duelist he had fought upon coming to the second level. These soldiers were similar, but had obvious changes signifying their individuality. Different runes on their armor, different helmets, different weapons.

The slimmer of the two carried a sword and shield, and had the helm of a traditional medieval knight, while the one opposite appeared to be an Oyariah from the size, and it held a large hammer in it’s hands. The helmet was an eyeless orb, but the Battlemaster suspected that it wouldn’t hinder it much.

Standing between the two ornate soldiers was a Human woman, who wore full robes of silver and black; intricately and artistically designed with a precision the Battlemaster couldn’t help but admire. Whoever was behind the craftsmanship of their equipment would have been highly respected in the Empire.

The woman’s raven black hair hung barely above her shoulders, and was meticulously done, not a hair out of place. It matched the stone-like expression on her ebony face; and from her absolute stillness one might be forgiven for wondering if this was a living person, or an exceptionally realistic statue. No blinking. No obvious breathing.

The two soldiers saw them and began moving forward when the woman lifted a hand, and they immediately froze, and returned to their original position. The hand moved back down to where it had been. The Ethereals walked forward in silence, and upon fully entering, the Battlemaster saw that there was another occupant, sitting on a small bench off to the side.

“The Battlemaster himself. I knew the day would come, though did not expect it to be now.”

The source of the rich voice stood, and faced the group. A Human, older than most, with chalky white skin, though not degraded like caretakers. Scars lined his face, but none stood out more than the large scar over his left eye. The eye itself was clearly _not_ Human, but a black orb with a shining blue pupil, heavily contrasting the opposite brown one.

Ash grey hair covered his head, cut short, and the Battlemaster knew that this was a dangerous Human. Or at minimum, an experienced one. The armor he wore was pitch black, with writing in an unknown language engraved on his armor in blue lettering. A standard longsword which had rested on his legs was held in his right hand, while the opposite held a helmet which resembled a stern male face, though the eyes were a deep red.

“Who are you?” This man seemed to know him, but for once here, the Battlemaster wanted to know more details about what was happening in this place.

“I am Grand Marshal Immortalis,” the man stated. “Not my original name, but who I am now. I command the warriors of the Order of the Absolving Tempest, the Carmine Baptists of Paradise, under the Zeal of the Bringer of Paradise. You have trespassed on our homes and spilled our blood. There will be retribution for that, but I will ask, what is your goal?”

“The death of the Creator.” He stated plainly. The Battlemaster suspected he would appreciate bluntness.

“You should turn back,” Immortalis said. “You will not reach the heart of Paradise. Stepping through the door will necessitate… _action_.” The face of the Human grew into something cold. “To succeed and reach what you have I can respect, Battlemaster, but His tolerance is coming to an end. You will not wish to feel His rage should you persist.”

“Draw your weapon,” the Battlemaster pointed his sword at the warrior. “We waste time.”

A single nod, and Immortalis placed the helmet on his head. “Let us begin.”

The Battlemaster instantly shot a hand out towards the trio of beings in the door, sending a telekinetic blast their way. The Baptists stumbled, but the woman didn’t even flinch from the blast. His other hand began stabbing towards Immortalis who deflected the strike, and set his sword ablaze with psionic energy. The purple-blue fire seemed to make the writing on his armor glow, and the red of the eyes of his helmet do the same.

The duel began.

Immortalis immediately struck with his blade, getting close to limit the Battlemaster’s effective range, although it didn’t stop the Battlemaster from throwing a fist at close range, which Immortalis easily dodged, though was forced slightly back, and shot psionic energy from his hand which the Battlemaster dodged by charging out of the way, and then directly towards the Human who sidestepped and somehow absorbed the brunt of the strike.

The Battlemaster briefly glanced to see how fast Mortis and Sana were working, and then noticed that the woman was actually moving her hands. The air around her shimmered with psionic energy, even if the face stayed as stony as before. Looking to the Twins, the Battlemaster saw psionic barriers materializing and dissipating with unnatural precision.

They were designed in order to not protect or destroy, but unbalance. The edges slammed into both Mortis and Sana; the legs, arms, heads, preventing any immediate offensive they could deliver, and the two Baptists were marching towards Mortis, psionic energy setting their weapons alight. Clever, very clever.

Immortalis twisted a hand, and the air around both of them split as the Psionosphere broke and unleashed gouts of psionic energy, commanding his attention. The Battlemaster exchanged a few blows, then after catching Immortalis in a blade lock, sent out a telepathic grab which yanked the two Baptists towards him.

The smaller one twisted in the air and landed down in a strike which he caught with his gauntlet and grabbed with a lower arm, then flung them at the robed woman. Without looking, a blue shield appeared before her, stopping the thrown soldier immediately and she continued her intrinsic psionic destabilization of the Twins.

The Battlemaster sent a telekinetic push towards Immortalis, who barely moved, but it was enough and the Battlemaster charged towards the woman, and as expected ran directly into a shield. But he was prepared, and caught the woman in a telekinetic grip and began squeezing. The woman was suddenly enshrined in a blue shield, but she was now focused on him, even if her face still somehow betrayed nothing.

Now all of the remaining soldiers were converging on him, but the Battlemaster knew all he needed to do was endure. With one hand he caught the head of the hammer of the Oyariah, grimacing as it began charring his hand through the gauntlet. The smaller Baptist stabbed towards gaps in his armor, which scored some hits, even if he was able to stop most with several kicks and punches and even the ones which hit did not quite puncture his skin.

Immortalis simply bathed him in scorching psionic energy, a miniature rift appearing around his body as it corroded and scarred even his armor. He threw his sword towards Immortalis who easily dodged it, but relented on the storm momentarily.

But he had done enough. The aura of Sana bathed the room, and a glance towards the woman showed her skin beginning to melt off her face, and the smaller Baptist began coughing as the Oyariah froze, the Hammer cluttering to the ground. Even Immortalis took a cautious step back up. “Retreat!” He commanded, realizing the tide was against him now that the Twins were no longer contained.

A flash of blue and Immortalis teleported away, as did the Oyariah warrior. But the smaller one was now on the ground, ripping off her helmet revealing another Human woman who was hacking up blood, as she began dissolving as well. A quick glance over to the robed woman showed a convulsing body even as the face was mostly sludge, and leaking into a small puddle.

The air around Mortis was distorted and tinged purple, even as he simply stared at the dying female Baptist. The Battlemaster snapped the neck of the armored woman with a telekinetic twist, and the body slumped to the ground, an expression of fear and pain on the half-melted woman’s face. There was silence once more.

Mortis returned to normal, and once he walked over, shook his head as he glanced at the woman. “You should have let me finish. The ones here deserve none of your mercy.”

“No,” the Battlemaster said slowly. “They don’t. But I do not prolong the deaths of my enemies regardless. Work faster if you wish them to suffer.”

“Considerate,” he snorted. “That was a clever woman. I will have to be careful of that being used again.”

“Indeed,” Sana had also regained her orientation and composure after the thrashing she had received. “They are learning.”

“Unfortunate they are competent,” the Battlemaster muttered, as he looked to the door. “And I suspect this Immortalis was telling the truth. This is simply a vanguard. The true challenges are ahead. They will only become more dangerous.”

“Normally I would say ‘charge’,” Mortis said slowly. “But we’ve already lost two. And we’re going to get worn down, while they will likely have fresh people to throw at us. Perhaps we should hold our ground here, because I am certain the Imperator _will_ come. As idiotic as he has shown himself to be thus far, he shouldn’t take long to make some connections.”

“Normally I would also agree,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “But I need to know the extent of this. I need to know the worst and most dangerous of it. They clearly do not want us to keep going down there, even if they know killing us is not in their best interests. There is something they want to hide. I can’t trust the Imperator will share it with me. I need to see for myself.”

Mortis let out a sigh. “You have a point.”

“Then we move forward,” the Battlemaster said. “At least we know we are going the right way.”

“For now,” Sana said slowly.

“For now.”

***

_Unknown Level, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

Yang felt like the more they walked, the more lost they became.

It turned out that the mass of doors led to small, enclosed corridors which intersected and weaved within each other, and conformed to a giant maze-like area which the three of them were now trapped within, with no obvious path or direction to go. Yang was more convinced that the maze itself was changing as they walked, as distant (though quiet) creaks and groans reached her ears.

What was more disconcerting was the lack of a ceiling. The walls extended close to four meters high, but there was quite clearly no ceiling, and only showed empty blackness, and silver light barely illuminated the way forward from small glowing organs placed along the tops of the walls.

She felt like they were being toyed with and watched by something; something that could at any point leap from the blackness and murder them.

Fiona kept them distracted, or at least not focused on the weight of the darkness above. “So the Battlemaster had no idea what this place was?”

“No,” Yang shook her head. “I mean…he knew the Creator controlled this place. Not what was going on.”

“And what was he planning to do?”

“Talk to the Creator and likely remove her from this place,” Yang shrugged. “Possibly execution. Now that… _this_ happened…he’s going to just kill her.”

“Well, good for him,” Fiona decided to go left as they reached an intersection. “Nice to have the Battlemaster targeting something other than Earth. Doubt the Imperator will allow that to happen though, if he’s let it go this far, letting the Battlemaster mess it up isn’t going to happen.”

“And what _is_ going on here?” Axis asked. “You appear to know more than most.”

“I probably know only a little more than you,” Fiona said, sword up in case of attack. “The first thing is that this Bringer of Paradise doesn’t actually exist in reality.” She pointed upward with an armored finger. “It exists in the Psionosphere.”

Yang stiffened. “Impossible. Nothing can survive there. The Ethereals researched trying to navigate it physically, and either they got horribly injured before they even stepped foot into it, or annihilated instantly. Research into it was banned after too many killed themselves. They _executed_ people by throwing them into it!”

“While I cannot attest to the intelligence of this research, she is correct,” Axis added. “What you call the Psionosphere was specifically ordered not to be tampered with by Origin. Tearing the Psionosphere was not usually approved of because the merging of it and reality was so destructive.”

“I’ve heard that,” Fiona said. “But it was once a Sovereign One. Trust me when I say the standard rules and logic do not apply to them. If any one could survive in the Psionosphere where _everything_ else would die, it is one of them.”

Yang thought about that briefly, disliking how all the walls were maddeningly the same color and with nearly imperceptible symbols and patterns – had she missed those initially? She shook her head, trying to focus. That would actually make some degree of sense, if this Bringer was in the Psionosphere, then it would explain just how it could sense and exert its presence so easily.”

“So what does it want?” Yang asked. “Why...” she paused, gesturing around. “All of _this_?”

“The only thing I know for sure,” Fiona answered grimly. “Is that it wants to fully cross back over. To my knowledge, it has never once gotten this far.”

There was some silence at that.

“What happens if it crosses over?” Axis finally asked.

Fiona snorted. “The best case scenario is that we have an extremely powerful psion loose, and that what is here mirrors a _lot_ of the galaxy. The worst case heavily depends on what theory you subscribe to regarding the Bringer himself. Particularly how much… _control_ he possesses over the Psionosphere.”

“Just give the worst case,” Yang said.

“The worst case is that the Bringer retains control over the entire Psionosphere,” Fiona said slowly, deliberately. “This assumes that the Bringer’s consciousness is _throughout_ the Psionosphere at this point, and not within a section. We don’t know that, but if that is the case…well, in theory psionics could be shut off, changed, or enhanced at will. The Psionosphere touches every part of reality, aside from the Dead Worlds. Worlds could be protected or destroyed in moments. Entire populations could be dominated or murdered through telepathy in seconds. It would be a threat that _cannot_ be defeated conventionally.”

Yang thought for a moment. “How likely is that…theory?”

“I would like to say ‘unlikely’,” Fiona said as they turned right. “But the truth is _we don’t know_. This is _actually_ uncharted territory, thanks to this ultimate idiot of an Imperator who thinks _helping_ this thing was a _good idea_.”

“We don’t know his reasons,” Yang felt the need to point out. “I can’t imagine the Imperator would make a mistake this large. You can call him…ambitious, but he isn’t an idiot.”

“You can ask him,” Fiona focused ahead. “But the only reason I’m here now is to gather as much information about this thing as possible and return. I don’t know nearly enough yet.”

“Who do you actually work for?” Yang pressed. “XCOM? You don’t look like one of them.”

“No, not XCOM. Another interested party.” The helmet of Fiona turned back to her. “And no, I’m not going to say who.”

“How did you even get here?” Axis asked.

“Took a few tries,” Fiona said nonchalantly. “But teleportation is something I’m good at. Once I had the location, it was fairly simple. Observed some of the fight going on in the first level – seemed to be a fairly even fight last I saw between the Bringer and that nanite weapon. Wanted to catch up to your group. Managed it, saw you and Axis get dragged through a portal, and after locating you, fought the Umbra. And here we are.”

“Could you teleport us somewhere else?” Axis asked.

Fiona notably hesitated. “Assuming you mean out of this maze? I _can_ , yes. But you could die. As in, I could teleport into a solid object and bisect you. I can keep myself immaterial long enough to prevent that, but it doesn’t extend to others.”

Yang cocked her head. “How can you do that? Psionics, and teleportation itself, doesn’t make you immaterial.”

Fiona just sighed. “Like I said, Sovereign technology provides quite a few advantages that would normally be considered… _unnatural_.”

“So nothing can hurt you,” Axis stated curiously.

“In theory, no,” Fiona said. “But I can still be surprised. And if my concentration slips, well, at best I lose a limb or two. I’m not a telepath like you, so I can’t rely on that.”

“Even here?” Yang gestured around, even in the confined space. “Even I can use telepathy reliably, even if my skill is telekinesis.”

Fiona tapped the armor by the neck. “This protects my mind from tampering. It’s the reason I can’t be watched or dominated. It also prevents me from utilizing the…additional properties of this place to my advantage.”

“Wait.” Axis suddenly stopped, then turned around. “We’re going the wrong way.”

“What? Are – hey, wait!” Fiona teleported in front of the fast-moving Zudjari who came to a stop. “What are you doing?”

“Voices, this way,” he pointed the direction he was heading, although his voice was obviously strained. “We need to go to them.”

_“Yang!”_

The Battlemaster’s voice. So they were here too. She felt relief wash over her. “I hear it too,” she said. “But the other way,” she pointed behind them. “Let’s go before we lose them.”

“No!” Axis pointed the opposite way. “We need to go this way!”

Yang scowled at how unreasonable he was being. “Are you deaf?”

“Both of you enough!” Fiona interjected. “Axis! Make sure you aren’t being influenced. You too, Yang! I don’t hear a damn thing.”

“Trust me, Human,” Axis took a step forward to Fiona. “I would know if I was under a telepathic attack.”

“In this place, so would I,” Yang added. She strained, but there wasn’t a voice any longer. But she felt the intense _need_ to follow where the voice had come from. She _knew_ this was the right way, and nothing was going to stop her, so she started walking, not paying any more mind to either Fiona or Axis. She just needed to get to the Battlemaster, and then get out of this place together.

Joining forces once again was all that they needed to do right now. If she lost him _again_ she didn’t know what she would do.

Wait, no. She shouldn’t be doing this. This could very well be a telepathic attack. She should stay with Fiona and Axis. Stick together.

But at the same time, she would _know_ if she was being attacked. She knew quite well what that felt like now, and this wasn’t it. But she knew she was allowing her emotions to take over and push her to do irrational things. Like running away from her current companions.

She stopped, and leaned against a wall, trying to get a handle on herself. She needed to stop. She needed to keep going. Staying put wouldn’t do anything.

_Think!_

The barely perceptible engravings seemed more noticeable now, and perhaps there was some kind of clue in them, and she stared at them, all the while feeling a growing an intense _need_ to keep going forward, going backward, doing _something_ except standing put looking at the glyphs which merged, split and swam before her eyes.

What was she trying to get from this? A way out? A puzzle piece right before her?

She rested her helmet on a hand, trying to figure out what to do. At this point she knew what she was feeling now _couldn’t_ be normal. But she didn’t know what it could be. She knew it couldn’t be a telepathic attack, but something which was eating away at her and making her feel this way. Dehydration? Starvation? How long had it been since she’d eaten or drank?

Yang finally forced herself up after what felt like hours, and everything seemed to be swimming in front of her. The walls extended upwards indefinitely and had a silver sheen to them she was surprised she hadn’t noticed before, and as she turned to one of the paths in front of her, she saw it.

It was a creature, but one that definitely wasn’t like the others. A thin body which was covered in some kind of shawl or robe which hid the legs which appeared almost membranous, although from here it looked like it was almost lying on the ground. Upon her noticing it, it lifted its arms, two sets, one of which it pushed itself up with, and the other pair extending towards her in a beckoning embrace.

The skin was a beautiful deep blue, that of the ocean. Upon pushing itself up, Yang also then noticed that there were two gelatin wings which sprouted from the back, spreading to their full length and dwarfing the body itself. Like bat wings, she thought, only put on a…she hesitated using the word ‘humanoid’ but it was the first thing that came to mind.

The face itself was flawless, much like the Umbra’s. A smile was on it as it beckoned forward. The only thing that gave Yang pause were the four eyes on the face. They were positioned in a square, pure black, and yet she could feel what the creature was trying to convey from them. It wanted to help. She needed to go to it.

She took a step forward.

_No! Don’t!_

This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why was she going _towards_ the creature that was probably going to kill her? Why was she forgetting what this place was?

The creature beckoned once more, and she unwittingly took a step forward. Then another.

There was then a sudden blue-green flash and the hiss of a blade moving through the air and the creature let out a horrible and final shriek as Fiona’s blade decapitated it. Leaking reddish blood, the creature slumped to the ground, and the compulsion that had driven her for what felt like hours vanished instantly.

Either from exhaustion or relief she dropped to her knees as Fiona approached her. “What…” she croaked, her voice dry. “What _was_ that?”

“Some kind of creature which uses telepathy to hunt,” Fiona helped her to her feet. “An exceptionally intelligent and talented creature at that. It was even beginning to affect Axis. By the time he figured it out, you were gone.”

“How,” Yang shook her head, trying to clear it. “How did it happen? I didn’t sense anything?”

“Axis thinks it was watching us ever since we got in here,” Fiona gestured around. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but this is a…you know that myth about the labyrinth? With the minotaur? That’s this, probably a way to execute prisoners. Anyway, he suspects it infiltrated your minds slowly and carefully so we didn’t notice, then forced you to ignore the standard warnings you would have otherwise had. It was subtle, and frankly, _much_ too sophisticated for something that was probably made in a lab.”

“How did you find _me_ again?”

“Oh, that was easy,” Fiona said. “It didn’t take too long to find you, especially since I can teleport. But I left you alone until the creature came so I could kill it. I don’t want this bothering us again.”

Normally Yang might have been mad, but now she just wanted to get out of this area. “What now?”

Fiona looked around them. “I found the exit too. I’m going to risk teleporting you. Axis is already at the end, and last I checked he was alive. Let’s hope he still is. Here,” she extended a hand which Yang took. “Here goes nothing.”

***

_Level 2, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

They did not get far before they noticed that the path was going down. It was gradual, subtle, but the walls were becoming more constrained, the lighting darker, and the metal gradually being replaced with flesh. It melted under the power of Mortis, and ran in foul-smelling rivers down onto the metal, or was absorbed in the remaining flesh-like floors before those were melted as well.

No one was taking chances any longer. Sana’s aura was pulsing and active, drawing on the energies of this place which offered near-limitless endurance compared to the normal reality they inhabited, and it was becoming stronger the more they descended. Mortis was prepared as well, his mind sharp and own death aura enhanced by concentration, and would immediately kill anything that was poorly protected, mentally or otherwise.

The Battlemaster himself was deeper in his battle trance than he had been in months. The limitations he normally felt were gone, and without having to fear telepathy he immersed himself within the Gift that had played a role in turning this place into a nightmare. It had initially taken some time to fully maintain it without actual combat, but he had adapted.

In this place, he had to or he would die.

Conversation had little place any longer.

There was no need to talk to these creatures. Each one was marked for death.

A room was coming up. The Battlemaster caught a flicker of movement within. A fight was coming. Another one. But now they would face the actual might of the Ethereals. As they had been warned they had only experienced the beginning of Paradise, so too had these abominations experienced but a taste of the power they brought to bear themselves.

And so the Battlemaster raised a hand and clenched a fist, as did Mortis. The small entrance began widening and snapping under the telekinetic grip, ripping the surprisingly delicate material apart, as the flesh which helped bind it together fell apart as the cells were divided. Within the Battlemaster saw the force that awaited them.

A dozen soldiers in the room, in addition to the Muton he had fought at the beginning, seemingly no worse for wear. These must have been her soldiers, as their armor reflected her own. Helmets that resembled faces molded in a singular emotion, armor black and red, growths and tumors seemed to be on some of the less-armored ones, but that seemed to only indicate the extensive genetic modification they had received.

Two carried longswords as they immediately started moving towards them, bodies and weapons enshrined in violet-blue fire as they intended to burn away the armor he wore. Time further slowed for the Battlemaster as he picked out additional details in the crowd. He needed to prioritize, as their last encounter had begun poorly.

The weaker-looking of the soldiers he would kill first, and already he saw two of the ones who had the faces of stone-faced individuals, with red-tinged robes. The hands were already beginning to rise and bodies begin to be encased in psionic energy.

And so he lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling, and pulled it into a fist, creating a telekinetic vortex in the center of the room which was powerful enough to crack the Psionosphere. Most of the soldiers were pulled towards it, though the robed soldiers and the Muton resisted. The air rippled around Mortis as he began his work, and the Battlemaster charged into the fray.

The Muton swung at him with her hammer, but it was slow enough he saw it coming almost in slow motion, and instead telekinetically gripped and tore it from her grasp, slamming it into the far wall, as he threw her backwards with a furious throw. The Muton seemed unprepared for his sheer ferocity and only managed to teleport in mid-air, reappearing where her hammer had been thrown as the Battlemaster marched forward.

A soldier with a scowling Human woman’s face as her helmet yelled a battle cry as she shot corrosive energy at him, and he reached out and telekinetically crushed the skull into paste. He then psionically dashed forward towards one of the robed soldiers and before they realized what was happening stabbed one in the heart while telekinetically pulling the other to him and immediately crushing the head of the Muton right after he ripped the helmet off.

Hearing the rush of a swung blade, he spun around and met the hammer of the Muton, and with the greatest threats to Mortis and Sana eliminated – indeed the rest of the soldiers were noticeably slowed, and _all_ moving towards Mortis. Several made the mistake of teleporting behind the Ethereals, and had their minds promptly penetrated and stunned by both Sana and Mortis, the latter of whom wasted no time in turning their brains into mush, while the rest he simply focused on causing slow and agonizing death.

The Muton herself was also encased in the psionic fire of her brethren. She was more skilled than the Battlemaster had initially given credit for. She landed blow after blow against him; psionic fire ravaged his armor leaving dents, scorches, and corrosion. He believed there was now an opening or two now.

It did not matter. For every blow she landed he responded similarly.

She was a talented abomination, but she was no Battlemaster.

Her control over psionics was sublime, and would have put even some lesser Ethereals to shame. When given time she would use her own telekinesis to hold him in place, or even attempt to throw him around. Every opportunity she would try and burn and damage his armor with the acidic psionic fire. She used teleportation to surprise him from different angles. Shields would occasionally protect her blind spots from his swings.

But her telepathy was beyond useless.

He suspected she worked like many telepathic melee fighters. Reading the minds of her opponents so she knew their weaknesses, knew their strengths, knew how to _predict_ what they would do.

But he did not have that vulnerability.

And so he surprised her.

Strikes were feints. Overcompensation would lead to him crushing another organ with his pinpoint telekinetic control. Every shield placed would simply respond to a psionic charge where he slammed into her with the force of a train and into the following wall. Every attempt to scorch his armor just led to another opportunity for him to slowly crush her piece by piece.

And regardless of how well she was trained, she lacked the pinpoint precision or concentration needed for what he was doing. Too many attacks distracted her. She likely believed she was special. She was perhaps another Preximius or Immortalis, a leader in this place of horror, taught to believe she was above the concerns of lesser aliens.

Someone who had never once faced a true threat.

How long they dueled for the Battlemaster did not know. He felt none of the punishment she supposedly dished out, just vague changes in pressure on his armor. An insulation provided by Sana or his armor, he was not sure. But he knew it was coming to a close. The rest of her soldiers had been killed by Mortis, and combined with the weakening aura of Sana, the Muton knew she would die.

“ _Run,”_ The Battlemaster spat, deep in his battle trance, to the Muton as he grabbed one of its arms with two of his own, and telekinetically applied as much pressure to the arm as possible, hearing it snap in some places, the metal crumple, and the fingers twist. He blew her back with another telekinetic push, even as she once more teleported to safety a short distance away.

He raised his bloodied sword at her. _“Run back to your master in shame. You will die by my hand, or you will run. Make your decision.”_

He psionically charged forward in the blink of an eye and nailed the Muton in the helmet, sending her stumbling backwards. Every step she took now left liquid seeping out of her joints, the Biopathy beginning to ravage her body as well. The Muton took a look around the three Ethereals, and then immediately teleported away.

The Battlemaster paid little attention to the fallen suits of armor around him, or the puddles that splashed his boots and legs. He suspected that Muton would not appear again, but if it did, he would beat it as he had before. If that was the best they had, it would not be enough. With Sana and Mortis behind him, he looked to their goal.

Another portal, likely leading deeper into the station.

Without hesitation, he walked towards and through it.

No more games. No more chances.

***

_Unknown Level, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

There was a distinct difference here. Yang knew they had to have gone to another level. They had soon found another Gateway, which had taken them to a square room which had immediately had four strange plant-like constructs of flesh, with four planted talons into specific flesh patches on the floor, turn head-like orbs to them as if to fire.

Fiona had sprang into action and decapitated two within the blink of an eye while Yang crushed the other two telekinetically, causing them to explode in a spray of red and yellow. Continuing forward they had run into a small group of Caretakers, these ones seeming more prepared and equipped than others, and from what they could tell, the room they had stepped into was an armory of sorts.

They had also been dispatched with relative quickness, but if _this_ was the actual layer of defense…

Yang didn’t know how long she could last.

She was exhausted, her mind felt in tatters with how much it had been infiltrated and abused by hostile figures, and the presence that constantly watched her – the Bringer – had only grown stronger to the point where she couldn’t even muster the strength to block it out.

_You have proven your worth today child. Are you not entitled to rest now?_

Oh, she most definitely was. But she knew that her version of rest and the _Bringer’s_ version were definitely two different things.

 _I don’t want your approval or advice_ , she spat to the presence.

She could swear she felt a flicker of sadness. _I will always be here, child, you will come when the time is right._

Yang shivered.

“It’s talking to you too.”

Yang looked to Axis who was still in the battle-mode of his suit. “Yes.”

“I don’t know what to think of it,” Axis shook his head. “I have looked more into the minds of these Caretakers. This level of indoctrination is nothing like anything I have seen. I had thought this to be a malevolent presence, but I don’t know. It might actually believe what it says to these followers.”

“Obviously what it wants you to think,” Fiona scoffed, flicking blood off her sword. “This thing only wants to cross over to our reality. Everything it says or does is a means to this goal. _Obviously_ it’s going to make itself seem less evil than it clearly is.”

The Bringer seemed almost amused. _And the woman speaks so surely. She has lived through the trillions of years of cycles. She has experienced the slaughter of countless. She knows so much more about the nature of the galaxy. So naïve. Such a useful tool of T’Leth._

The Psionosphere seemed to shift.

An expression of amusement or laughter.

_Ah…yes…the plan becomes clear. A useful tool she is. All in the name of protection, all in an effort to end the ceaseless hunt._

Yang shook her head, though latched onto something she felt would be important. “Who is T’Leth?”

Fiona didn’t look back. “Someone I know.”

Yang shrugged. “ _He_ seems to think you are a tool of this T’Leth.”

“We have an agreement,” she said. “I help him, he does the same to me. If that’s being a tool, then I suppose the Bringer is correct.”

 _But how far are you willing to go to stop me, Fiona,_ the words rumbled in Yang’s mind. _How far? Would you risk what you have sought to avoid?_

“He’s wondering how far you would go to stop him,” Yang repeated to her, since she felt the woman would want to hear what the Bringer was saying behind her back. “Do you know something I should know about?”

Fiona was silent for a few moments. “Yes, but I don’t want to tell you. Suffice to say, I know what he’s talking about, and if he’s so curious, just let him know that I’ll only do what I need to finish this mission. And also tell him to be careful what he wishes for.”

“I don’t think I need to tell him anything,” Yang said slowly. “He probably hears everything we say anyway.”

“Back!” Axis suddenly shouted and Yang leapt backwards just as a black blade stabbed the space she had been, and in her place stood yet another strange creature. Like the beasts on the first level, this one seemed to have some kind of invisibility, where it disappeared at certain angles, and flickered in and out of focus.

However it was made easier since the creature itself had pitch black skin. It had no face or eyes she could see, was extremely thin and had four arms which ended in long blades which also seemed to be able to move more flexibly than one would first assume. A black shawl covered it, which made it very easy to track thankfully, which was ordained with more of the glyphs and symbols others in this places possessed.

Fiona was immediately on it, and performed a teleporting slice which the creature blocked with one of its bladed arms, while Yang reached out and attempted to lock it in a telekinetic vice. The creature then teleported away before she could establish a firm grip and Yang leapt away, fearing that the thing was behind her.

A good assumption, and she avoided another stab. She risked a glance towards Axis, who was fighting another one of the things, only this one was slightly different in that it seemed to be taller and more muscular, and was engaging the Zudjari in a duel which was going…badly, given how many hits he was taking, and chipping away at his armor.

Yang tossed one of her swords in its direction, and it actually managed to impale it in the arm. It immediately swung its attention to her as she pushed the blade deeper. Fiona was engaged in a duel with the other one, as it was forced to fully concentrate on her when Fiona began employing her own teleportation.

To Yang’s untrained eye, Fiona was still far better at it, as she dismembered one of the arms, then almost seemed to be in two places at once, striking both times as two more arms fell off. Yang once more reached out, and locked the head in a firm grasp, crushing it in her hand. Axis was still dealing with the larger creature, but with the other one down, Fiona turned her sights on it.

This time it only took one swipe and the creature was decapitated. In the ensuing silence, Yang went over and pulled her sword out of the creature, wondering what it was supposed to be.

_Disappointing._

Yang got the impression the Bringer was not referring to her. _Forgive me for not feeling sad._

_Nor should you. They are in Paradise now, and they served diligently during their lives. You granted them a gift, child, one that should be celebrated._

Despite that, Yang did note that the first word had been _disappointing_. Regardless of their service, the Bringer had clearly expected something more from these creatures.

“I have a feeling our actual test is going to be ahead,” Fiona said, motioning to the end of the hallway. “If we’re going to be attacked, it’s going to be there. And I don’t think whatever it is will be a pushover.”

At the end, Yang saw it open into a darkened arena, similar to the one they had fought the Umbra in, but much larger. Large enough where she couldn’t see far into it, as the blackness permeated the area. Perfect for an ambush.

_Do not fear, child. Death does not await you in there. Your story is just beginning._

Ignoring the haunting words, Yang steeled herself and followed Fiona into the darkness.

***

_Level 3, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

The welcoming force they had encountered was almost immediately killed.

The Battlemaster suspected that the reason they had not faced more resistance was due to the fact that they would just be throwing more soldiers away. Fighting the trio of Ethereals was close to suicide, and whoever was commanding the defenses likely realized such resistance was futile.

So they had walked through the more segmented hallways of this level. It seemed more organized than the previous level, more akin to the first. There was more visible metal, but interspersed with clearly obvious organic defenses of some kind which Mortis melted before either he or Sana could intervene. The rooms seemed close to barracks or armories; each containing detailed armor and weapons from multiple species and differing historical periods.

The Battlemaster made a mental note to reclaim these pieces of equipment when he finished. He would find some use for them. Interestingly he saw very little modern weaponry, few rifles or pistols, and the ones he _did_ find seemed to either be altered primitive guns, or ones which seemed inert with wires and tubes that looked like they connected to another power source.

Fectorian would need to examine them in detail later.

He idly wondered how the Sovereign nanite weapon was performing on the first level. Hopefully it was succeeding against the forces that were no doubt converging upon it. He would need to requisition more of those later, preferably for this place.

How long they walked for the Battlemaster didn’t know, but they faced little resistance. But the hallway soon became narrower as it converged into one final direction. The ceiling began angling up, and up ahead the Battlemaster saw a faint blue light filling the arena ahead, for he could immediately tell that was what it was.

“There is something ahead,” Mortis muttered. “This is probably what they fell back for.”

The Battlemaster said nothing, but simply advanced forward and they soon stepped into the arena itself. It was made completely of metal, extended upwards to then converge once more at a centerpoint in the ceiling. The pillars along the walls were similarly angled and interwoven with each other, in triangles, like the first level.

His boots clacked on the floor, and he realized his impression was not completely correct. Tile of some kind lined the floors, and was clearly arranged in a mosaic of some kind that he couldn’t see on the ground level. A closer look at the pillars also saw they were engraved with the symbols he had seen throughout the station.

In the center of the arena was another triangular gateway, this one massive, extending close to twenty feet into the air. It was shut off, allowing the Battlemaster to see through to the opposite end of the arena he was standing in. But that was not what immediately drew the attention of every Ethereal in the vicinity.

There was a figure standing before the inert Gateway, one which was amazingly somehow taller than the Battlemaster – though only slightly. Like the Caretakers, it wore robes, though they were a deep purple with highly symmetrical lines of blue-embroidered symbols woven throughout. The figure looked…thin, proportionally to its size.

The Battlemaster saw the two arms it had were clasped behind its back, and a hood covered the face… but all of them could easily see the face in question. The marble-like skin, if it could be called that, appeared more to be scales or stone, as it overlapped in places and was fully symmetrical along the face. No obvious mouth was seen, but there were plates that could be their equivalent.

The figure had six eyes, each seeming to glow a harsh blue as it appraised them, though the Battlemaster could not determine anything close to what it was thinking or feeling.

 _“Ethereals of the Collective, you have come far,”_ the voice was deep, vibrant, and came from everywhere in the room. The figure showed no indication it had spoken, but the Battlemaster suspected that was the case. _“Hundreds have died in your path of destruction through our home. Your cause is righteous in your mind, but you will go no further.”_

“We have killed every threat here,” the Battlemaster was slightly calmer than he had been during the duel with the Muton. “This will not end until the Creator is dead.”

 _“You will go no further,”_ the figure repeated. _“The actions of the Artist are unfortunate, and were not sanctioned. A mistake, one you may feel anger for, but one that does not require the ultimate punishment. Such actions will not happen again.”_

The Battlemaster let out a harsh laugh, lifting his weapon and waving the blood-soaked sword around. “Do you _really_ think this is about _that_ anymore? No, creature, it is about _everything_ that is happening here.”

 _“We have done nothing wrong here,”_ the figure said calmly. _“All of this was permitted and sanctioned by the Imperator. Your superior. Let the bloodshed come to an end. The Imperator will arrive eventually and he will explain to you.”_

“What _are_ you?” Sana finally asked.

 _“I am merely an Aspect of the Bringer,”_ the figure said. _“His Temperance. His mind and cunning, His restraint and patience. I am nothing more or less. Each of you is a worthy opponent, each of you has strengths, weaknesses, and patterns. Each of these I know. Each of these I will use. I need not kill you today, only ensure you do not cross this point.”_

The voice of the…Temperance…didn’t change, but the Battlemaster suspected it had been annoyed by what they had done. _“The destruction is no longer tolerable and it will come to an end now. Yet I will offer you one final chance to stand down. Await the Imperator for answers.”_

The Battlemaster pretended to consider. “No.”

He swung his blade down, and immediately transitioned into a psionic charge. Almost immediately he slammed into a barrier erected in front of him, and even after recovering quickly, he lashed out with several strikes and slashes towards the massive figure, though each one was deflected by a blue barrier which appeared just before he struck the fabric.

The Temperance slowly moved a hand forward, and the black-gloved hand faced him, palm out and the Battlemaster was thrown backwards by the edge of a psionic barrier which slammed against him. He recovered quickly, and quickly glanced to Mortis and Sana, the latter of whom was encased in a psionic stasis field, even if her power was not diminished.

Mortis was under constant assault by multiple appearing and disappearing micro-barriers, which did little lasting harm but did do enough to prevent him from utilizing his Biopathy. The same tactic the one woman had used, only this being seemed to be far more skilled at it, and the Battlemaster was not sure what he could do to stop it.

He reached out and telekinetically grabbed the Temperance and began applying pressure. Past the robes, directly onto the skin and bone of the creature. Almost lazily the creature looked to him with the unblinking glowing eyes and then froze – as it looked back to Sana and the barrier attacks on Mortis briefly dissipated.

The Battlemaster continued the psionic grip, though was running into resistance as blue light from barriers likely shone from inside the body, as the Temperance likely wished to protect against the telekinetic assault. He quite possibly had underestimated that both Sana and Mortis were also expert telepaths, and was now engaged in a telepathic duel against them.

Of course, this would prevent Mortis from utilizing his Biopathy, but it would give the Battlemaster something to do in the meantime, and with his telekinetic grip still maintained, charged forward once more, and stabbed towards the likely heart of this alien would be. The other hand of the Temperance lashed forward from behind its back, palm flat before the tip of his sword as it held it back psionically.

 _“You should fight against one with your talents, Battlemaster,”_ the Temperance said, voice as calm and emotionless as before. _“It is rare to find an opponent who can match him.”_

The Gateway flashed behind him, and the Battlemaster was thrown back by a powerful  telekinetic attack. Anchoring himself telekinetically as well, he cautiously appraised the creature that stepped out before the Gateways shut off once again. This one was just as tall as the Temperance, but far bulkier and strong.

Blue psionic shields covered it, arranged like armor, showing an almost knightly figure that stood beside the robed alien. The head was especially shielded, and while the Battlemaster could vaguely make out the skin underneath the other barriers, the face was little more than an obscured void.

The greatsword made out of nothing but psionic energy was held in its hand, a dark mirror of the Battlemaster; a rival he had never known existed until this point. The air around the creature began splitting and breaking, the Psionosphere itself destabilizing in its presence. The creature let out a furious roar that shook the ground, and charged him.

The Battlemaster prepared to defend himself.

This was the endgame.

***

_Unknown Level, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

Yang wondered if her mind was slowly being compromised yet again as they walked into the darkened arena. A soft blue light fell from the sky, but when she looked upwards she only saw a black void. The arena itself was constructed with what seemed to be black metal and weaving architecture, with the walls themselves shrouded in shadows.

Multiple times she thought she saw figures in those shadows, genderless humanoids that were watching. Most places she would question if she was seeing things, but here she didn’t know. It was becoming more and more difficult to determine what reality actually was. Spend too long here and she might actually lose her mind.

A thought that would normally terrify her, but right now she felt too exhausted to care.

Constant fights and battles; her mind besieged, assaulted, and cracked; voices real and imagined. It made the swords feel heavier than anything had before, and her armor a weight that made her sluggish and slow. Did she truly have the strength for _more_ fighting. Fiona could go on. Axis likely could as well.

She didn’t know if she could or not.

So she stuck close to the Zudjari, because if she was attacked, he would likely see it before her.

Fiona’s sword was drawn as they reached the center. “No exit. Likely a trap.”

“Then should we leave?” Axis asked, forming his crystal defenses into shields. “I do not want to stay in this place.”

Yang turned back to the entrance and her heart likely skipped a beat. “Behind!”

Axis and Fiona turned around as they saw the same thing she did. Standing at the entrance was a tall humanoid cloaked in living shadow, seeming to suck the nearby light around him. Yang couldn’t see the arms, but the smoldering red eyes where the head was were enough. Fiona suddenly appeared behind it and slashed down, and her sword seemed to go right through it as the shadow dematerialized and appeared directly behind her, a dark arm grabbing her by the neck and lifting her up.

Yang tapped again into the psionic wellspring this place was and immediately felt more invigorated, though didn’t know how long that would last. She brought her swords to her hands, then telekinetically tossed one towards the shadow. Fiona disappeared in a blue-green flash and appeared right before the shadow, sword raised and ready.

The shadow performed a micro-teleportation and stabbed a shadowy arm forward towards Fiona which went directly _through_ her body as Fiona sidestepped and sliced down onto the arm which also disappeared as the shadow appeared opposite her once more.

Fiona swung her own blade up. “Clever. But I can do that too.”

With a flourish she teleported towards the shadow once more and began a prolonged exchange of slashes and micro-teleportations, as each of them both tried to get hits on the other in a battle that was almost impossible for either Yang or Axis to actually follow. One moment the two figures were on one side of the arena, and then in a flash they were on the other.

She felt useless in the fight, as everything she did was either deflected or missed thanks to teleportation, the shadow seemed nearly impossible to properly lock on to through telekinesis, and it barely seemed to regard her as a threat at all. Axis was in a similar predicament, as simply moving towards the fight was pointless since both duelists were moving around so quickly.

“I cannot sense his mind,” Axis growled, even as the air distorted around him. “It is…slippery. It is too small for someone of this level of teleportation control.”

Calling it a duel seemed the wrong word as she watched it. The Shadow didn’t actually have any kind of weapon he could see, but it _was_ clearly trying to grab and retain control over Fiona. The problem was of course that she was simply too fast, and as a teleporter she could escape any grasp within moments. Her immunity to mind control made her impossible to control this way.

On the other side, Fiona seemed to be as ineffective against the shadow as it was against her. Every strike was either dodged or missed entirely. It was clearly as skilled as she was, and as Yang watched, she noticed just how _flowing_ it was. Fiona performed a series of stabs and cuts, and the Shadow simply weaved out of the way with a masterful precision that seemed oddly slow, but _fluid_.

It suddenly looked over to them, and appeared before them. The air around her became blacked as it towered over her and extended a black hand to grab her chest and looked directly into her eyes for an entire long second. An eternity.

Her brain felt as though it was suddenly submerged in sludge, barely able to process what was happening. Instinctively she knew this thing was in her mind, but she could barely muster any strength to strike the arm of the shadow itself. The blades raised and then fell as she suddenly lost all feeling in them.

Her heart stopped.

Her sight vanished.

The world became silent as her hearing ended.

She felt herself dropped onto the ground with a thud. Or it would have been a thud, if she could hear.

Then she realized she couldn’t move, and felt herself convulsing as the effect of her heart stopping began to reap the consequences. The pain was unlike anything she could describe, and she could not even scream into the dark void that was now her reality.

She had failed. She was going to die here.

***

_Throne Room of the Imperator, Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_1/11/2017 – 12:11 P.M._

Patricia couldn’t determine how or what the Imperator was thinking or feeling, but if there was one thing she could determine, it was that he was somewhat irritated and angry. Fortunately it was not directed at her, but in small part towards the Battlemaster, and the majority reserved for the Creator and the Bringer of Paradise, who she had learned a _lot_ more about over the past few hours.

The Imperator was realizing that he had made several mistakes in the handling of a being that existed within the Psionosphere. Mistakes he was correcting now.

The Overmind, Quisilia, and Fectorian were standing before the Imperator now, as he stood and waited for the Overmind to finish whatever he was doing. She believed he was locating the exact coordinates to directly teleport to Paradise, but she figured it was more than that – they wanted the exact location of the Battlemaster, Sana, and Yang to teleport to them directly.

There were immediate plans to severely neuter the influence the Bringer had already created, and Paradise was about to become a lot more observed in the future. The Imperator was, quite simply, furious that the Creator had performed one of the most controversial actions of the war to date, and otherwise damaged their standing both in and outside the Collective.

Patricia was mildly surprised the Imperator was going to spare her, but the fact was that she would be instrumental in his plan to control this crossed over Bringer, and so she was unfortunately going to have to live. Although she wouldn’t have nearly as much freedom, and the Bringer was going to be taught a severe lesson in abusing trust.

“The stasis fields are fully prepared?”

The Imperator knew the answer, but wanted to hear Fectorian say it regardless. “Yes, they will hold your captives,” Fectorian kept his tone respectful, but Patricia remembered that he had been…somewhat irritated when he learned even part of the situation. He had likely held his tongue out of respect for the Imperator, but anyone could see that he was _not_ happy, especially when he was given short-notice construction orders. “Like for Origin, they are designed to hold a Reaper-level Ethereal. There will be no escapes or failures.”

“Holding the Bringer’s toys is not something we should be concerned with,” Quisilia’s tone was light, but he had been oddly silent through the whole thing. “Both of us know what is likely happening on that station, and now the Battlemaster and Sana – two Ethereals who could not have possibly been more ill-suited to it – are on it and have seen everything. You do know they’re going to know you’ve been allowing this?”

“The Collective experiments on captives, this has been done before,” the Imperator said slowly. “Distasteful as it is, this is something they will accept.”

“Yes, assuming they stayed on the same level,” Quisilia’s tone was sarcastic enough it verged on disrespectful. “Both of us know there is a lot more than ‘experimentation’ going on. So are you going to tell the Battlemaster the reason or not?”

The Imperator was silent for a moment. Patricia knew he was not particularly happy the Battlemaster had created this situation, even if it wasn’t completely his fault. He was irritated that the Battlemaster, along with Sana, had first questioned Isomnum (which had supposedly gone badly), and then _gone_ directly to interrogate the Creator with _Sana’Ligna_ , without even once informing the Imperator.

Something the Imperator had seemed legitimately surprised at when they determined what had happened. And then surmised that at best the Battlemaster was engaged with the defenses of Paradise, and at worst was dead. Honestly Patricia wondered which scenario would be easier to solve. In the grand scheme…the chained essence of a Sovereign One was more important, but on the other side it was a massive risk.

Of course, without prior warning the Battlemaster had almost certainly gotten the wrong idea about what was going on, and was likely furious at the Imperator. It was the reason the Imperator had kept the details so secretive. There were certain people who would simply not accept the justification for these measures, and the Battlemaster was one of them. Not to mention Sana’Ligna.

“I suspect I will have little choice,” the Imperator finally said. “But I do not think he will be convinced of the necessity of it. He is too focused on the immediate picture. The Collective. Even if he understands the bigger picture, he may ultimately reject it.”

“Is there something I should know about?” Fectorian interjected. “I believe I deserve to know exactly what is going on here. What are these stasis pods being used for?”

“An experiment which has temporarily gone awry,” the Imperator said. “It involves Sovereign technology. An example of why we should never become reliant on it. This is all you need to know, if your experience is required I will ensure you know.”

Fectorian straightened, and looked directly at the Imperator. “Very well. If you do not require my services further, I will leave,” he turned abruptly and began exiting the room. At the edge he looked back around. “I suspect the Battlemaster will be more forthcoming than you are, Imperator. There are too few of us left to keep secrets.”

The door shut behind them, and Quisilia shook his head. “I would not have advised that.”

“The fewer who know, the better,” the Imperator said. “This will eventually fade and the situation will stabilize. The Battlemaster will eventually calm down, especially if he focuses on Earth.”

“Then I hope you plan on doing something to actually appease him,” Quisilia continued, sounding unimpressed. “Because I’m going to tell you that if you think simply explaining this is going to make everything go away, you clearly don’t know him. He’s going to want Paradise _destroyed_ , and the Creator and the Bringer’s Aspects brutally murdered. At the moment you are planning how best to preserve the situation and ultimate goal, _not_ how to deal with the Battlemaster.”

“What do you suggest?” Patricia asked. “There are few good options here.”

“You,” Quisilia pointed a black dagger at her. “Don’t have a say in this, Trask. I’m not even sure why you’re involved in this situation, but you are. That doesn’t mean you get to make suggestions.”

“Answer her question,” the Imperator stated.

“Kill all of the Aspects,” Quisilia said heavily, clearly unhappy. “It would be a severe setback, I know, but it would ensure the Battlemaster is appeased, even if the Creator is spared. Essentially kill everything on Paradise, and start over. Not ideal, but I think keeping the Battlemaster is more important than completing the Crossing in a timely manner.”

“No.” The Imperator stated flatly. “We may…need it in the future, if the Sovereign on Earth becomes more involved. It has taken decades to reach this point, and we do not have that time before this kind of measure will be needed. The Battlemaster will simply have to be convinced.”

Quisilia simply sighed. “I see the reasoning, but he is not going to like it.”

“No,” the Imperator agreed. “He will not. But this is ultimately essential.”

“Which reminds me,” Quisilia recalled slowly. “Do you think he awakened Mortis?”

“With Sana, yes,” the Imperator said, standing. “I suspect that made their jobs easier. Once this situation is contained, we will relocate him to here. I do not want an Ethereal, especially him, near the Bringer, regardless of _assurances_.”

“They have been located,” the Overmind suddenly spoke. “Two groups. Separated. The Battlemaster, Sana, and Mortis, and Yang Shuren with a foreign mind. They must have awakened the Zudjari as well.”

“I’ll recover Yang and the Zudjari,” Quisilia said, twirling the blade in his hand.

“Patricia and I will go to the Battlemaster,” the Imperator finished. “Give us the exact locations. How deep did they manage to get?”

“The third level.”

The Imperator lifted a hand and the air in front of Patricia split into a purple-tinted portal. She put on her XCOM helmet in preparation. “I do not know what we will find,” the Imperator said slowly. “Prepare to immediately defend yourself. I will be immediately behind you.”

With a nod, Patricia stepped into the portal.

***

_Unknown Level, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

Yang was unsure what happened, until she suddenly gulped a mouthful of air.

“Apologies,” the voice of Axis said, as she realized that she still couldn’t see and was still paralyzed. “Lower brain telepathy is something I have limited training in, and your minds are not like ours. I’ve done what I can, but I don’t know-“

“I can hear,” she breathed. “I’m not dead. Can’t see or move.”

“Fiona has its attention for now,” Axis said, even though Yang couldn’t actually hear much aside from some slashes in the distance. A silent duel of immaterial warriors. “I’m going to try-“

His voice turned to something like surprise. “What-?”

“That is enough,” Yang tried to move her head as she laid on the ground, although her paralysis hindered it. _Don’t panic, they’ll fix this. They’ll fix this._ “This little party is over.”

_Quisilia?_

“You know this Ethereal?” Axis sounded similarly surprised.

“Yes,” Yang muttered. “Which means the Imperator is not far behind.”

“While I’m sure you’ve had great fun with this, I am going to have to demand you stand down,” Quisilia said, presumably addressing the shadow-thing. “The Imperator is very… _displeased_ with what has happened here.”

 _We have come under attack._ The voice appeared in their minds, a raspy and slick male one which could not have sounded more sinister if it tried. _Defense-_

“Ah, no,” Quisilia sounded amused. “You can call it whatever you want, but let’s just say no one who isn’t brainwashed is going to believe you. Also, who is this?”

“Fiona,” Axis muttered.

“And that is my cue to leave,” Fiona said, likely teleporting beside them. “Stay or go?”

“Get me out of here,” Axis said.

Yang didn’t hear anything, but she presumed that Fiona was gone, and had likely taken Axis with her. She was almost sad, since the Zudjari had not seemed that bad. That he had saved her life was also a point in his favor, though she couldn’t really blame him for wanting to leave this place as soon as possible, and especially not trusting the judgement of the Ethereals.

What had the Imperator been _thinking_?

“You, stay there,” Quisilia ordered, likely to the shadow. “Hold onto this. You move, I will kill you, regardless of what the Imperator ordered.” Yang heard something being tossed through the air, but didn’t have any idea what it could be. Footsteps approached her a few seconds later.

“I can’t move or see,” she said, hoping he would hear her. “That thing-“

“Yes, you’re fortunate you lived at all,” he said. “I’ll get you to Sana immediately. You can be healed. The Battlemaster will be pleased to know that you lived, and I’m sure you can say quite a bit about the ones who were with you.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “To the Battlemaster. Please say there is a good reason for this.”

“There is _a_ reason,” Quisilia said as she was picked up by him. “I suspect you would not agree, though I cannot tell you regardless. That is the Battlemaster’s prerogative.”

Yang would have closed her eyes if she hadn’t already been blind. “What the fuck was the Imperator thinking?”

There was a noticeable pause. “In the long term, Miss Shuren.”

“Please tell me he will stop it.”

Another pause. “There will be consequences for what happened here, I can assure you of that.”

She didn’t ignore he had avoided the question. “Will the Creator be executed?”

“No. She has a part to play.”

She had feared that would be the answer. But deep down she had known that the Imperator wouldn’t allow this if he truly didn’t think it had some worth. All of them were presumably alive, and the cost was minimal. In terms of cold statistics at least. The Collective had ultimately lost nothing in this incident, and no permanent harm had been done.

Except of course the damage to the reputation and trustworthiness of everyone who had been involved in hiding this. She knew on her own she was ultimately not important, and her wants and opinions wouldn’t change anything. A mere weapon given to the Battlemaster to utilize as he saw fit.

But she felt some hope that the Battlemaster would not take this lightly. “Then I hope you’re prepared for what the Battlemaster and Mortis will do once they are told this,” she said quietly to Quisilia. “I can’t do anything. But they will.”

She felt some measure of surprise from him. “Did you say _Mortis_?”

Oh right, they didn’t know he had recovered from…whatever he had been afflicted with. She smiled. “Yes, he apparently has recovered. And he is _not_ happy.”

“Oh dear,” Quisilia mused. “That is going to make things more complicated.”

***

_Level 3, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_Unknown Time_

The warrior fighting him was one of the most challenging the Battlemaster had ever experienced in his life. Rarely, outside of other Battlemasters, had he dueled someone who was just as strong, fast, and skilled as he was. There had been few who surpassed him, and he had known that one day he might hold the title of Grandmaster.

But this warrior before him was without a doubt his equal. Possibly _better_.

Blow for blow, they matched each other. A psionic charge was met with a telekinetic throw. Swings were blocked head on, not dodged. It was certainly a different experience to fight something his own size, and the Battlemaster began falling back into a comfortable rhythm he had not used in a long time.

Larger meant slower. It meant easier to predict and exploit.

This warrior was likely as dangerous as him, but there were weaknesses he could exploit. A larger size meant more areas to hit. More mass slowed him down, and made his moves more predictable. The Battlemaster did not feel he was in immediate danger – yet.

But the corrosive aura he had around him was an actual problem, as were the beams of psionic energy he shot from his hands. His armor was slowly deteriorating, subjected to rift after corrosive shot. Even this forged armor could not last forever against psionic bombardment, and to make this issue worse, the longer the duel progressed the more extreme the psionic hurricane around the warrior became.

The burning psionic sword slashed down, and was blocked by the Battlemaster as he responded by sending a telekinetic shockwave towards the warrior, shaking the ground. With another hand, he maintained a telekinetic grip on the arms, briefly forced them open, and stabbed forward. The psionic armor blocked it, but the warrior let out another roar, and threw a fist towards him which missed, and the Battlemaster stabbed under the armpit, which was also deflected.

But it was enough to unbalance the warrior, and the Battlemaster shoved him to the ground as the warrior responded to it by immediately turning around and with a gesture created a psionic maelstrom where he was standing.

The Battlemaster winced as he felt the psionic acid land on his skin, a testament to how degraded his armor was by this point, and performed another psionic charge to the warrior who moved out of the way and swung in a wide arc, which the Battlemaster easily ducked and stabbed forward to the chest.

It was growing angrier. Good.

He allowed it to miss several more times before punching it once in the shielded head. No damage, but it was enough to unbalance it even further. A furious but sloppy strike followed, which he deflected quite easily as he threw it back with a telekinetic push. The psionic storm was growing fiercer, and that blow seemed to make something fundamentally change.

The blue psionic armor flickered and suddenly dissipated as the psionic disruptions around him flashed, then turned into a full storm, revealing the true form of the creature. A mix of armor and hard brown skin covered the body, almost as though the armor was physically attached to the creature. Lining the torso were extra little limbs, underdeveloped and waving as they were free from the confines of the psionic armor, rippling with psionic power.

The head was not covered by any helmet, but a hood of some kind, and no face could be seen. It could not have been an illusion, but the Battlemaster only saw blackness within the hood. Perhaps it did not actually have a head at all?

The psionic sword remained in hand, and with another furious and ground-shaking roar, charged as the Battlemaster felt the full power of the storm around the warrior. Psionic acidic energy ravaged his armor even more, and began destroying the hardened skin underneath, and the Battlemaster was thankful for Sana’s own power as any light wounds he sustained were healed almost instantly.

But for the first time in a long time, it was painful.

The warrior rained down blow after blow in an insane frenzy, with no regard for strategy or skill. It was the swings of a berserker, one which exchanged discipline for unrestrained fury. After swinging once it reached back and ripped the hood back and a massive beam of psionic energy shot from the head towards him.

It slammed directly into his chest and he psionically charged out of there before his armor’s integrity could be weakened further. Once away, he saw what the head of the creature truly looked like. It wasn’t even a head, but almost a vertical ring of flesh that formed the outline of one, which he could see through. All it was good for was propping up the hood, and possibly worked as a focus point for a psionic attack.

The Battlemaster had given up trying to work out how the biology of what he had seen worked. This was not the time or place for it.

A psionic charge back into the whirling maelstrom resumed the fight once more, and while he could easily deflect, block, or dodge the wild swings, the psionic storm around him was beginning to take its toll. He could not stay in it forever, even as he landed blow after blow on it, dismembered some of the small arms on the torso, and otherwise thought he was causing it damage.

But it also could heal, and he didn’t know what the best way was to beat it.

He charged backwards out of the storm to briefly appraise it before it began walking towards him again.

Possibly a problem.

He spared a glance over to where Sana and Mortis were, and they seemed to be in the exact same situation. It spoke to the skill of the Temperance that they had somehow managed to not break through yet, but at least he was being occupied.

A purple flash appeared behind the Gateway, and Patricia Trask stepped out, followed immediately by the Imperator, who was already radiating power.

_“Stand down.”_

The warrior he had faced was suddenly encased in a psionic stasis field, lifted into the air and compressed into a more compact form with the limbs folded backwards. The head of it suddenly split into pieces, although that seemed to affect it very little as the psionic storm began dissipating. It was likely struggling, but the barriers would not allow it.

The Temperance was also encased in a barrier and suspended in the air, although it wasn’t constricted as much.

About time.

“Sana,” the Imperator said. “End your assault. Your orders are to stand down.”

_What?_

“ _Kill it_ ,” the Battlemaster roared. “What are you _doing_?”

 _“Imperator,”_ the Temperance said, in the same toneless voice. _“I am pleased you have finally arrived to mediate this unfortunate dispute.”_

“Stand down, Battlemaster,” the Imperator commanded, raising an arm in his direction. “I want to know the actual situation-“

 _“Situation!”_ The Battlemaster yelled, flinging his sword in a wide arc to emphasize his shout. “This entire _station_ is the _situation_. One that needs to be _completely destroyed_.” His anger began growing as he stormed to the Imperator. “Answer me this, _Imperator,_ did you _know_ about what was happening here?”

“Not specific details,” the Imperator answered with irritating calmness. “But the overall situation I was aware of, and approved of.”

The Battlemaster didn’t know how he felt about the Imperator simply admitting this. “What were you _thinking?”_

“Quite clearly your mental capabilities were as atrophied as I had feared,” Mortis said, speaking for the first time towards the Imperator. “Which is odd, as I specifically remembered the Imperators being among our most intelligent. The only _possible_ way to correct this mistake is to do as the Battlemaster suggests and purge everything on this station.”

The Imperator looked to the Ethereal in almost surprise. “Mortis’Ligna, I see you have…recovered.”

“Yes, I certainly have,” Mortis also stormed forward, his own voice rising. “And I am informed that not only is the Empire destroyed, not only are we invading a primitive alien species for no reason, but you are sanctioning and running this _place_ which grows every kind of abomination and experiments on _children_. And you don’t even _deny_ it!”

“This situation is far more complex than it appears-“

“ _Really_ ,” the Battlemaster was unsure if his tone was sarcasm or outright contempt. “No, _Imperator_ , it is _not_. You may have everyone conditioned to accept your every word, but that does not apply to me. The Ethereals _I_ knew forbade the exploitation of aliens, the Ethereals _I_ knew did not run horror camps like this one for no good reason, _or_ talked with things living in the _actual Psionosphere!_ The Ethereals _I_ knew had standards and rules, and didn’t let every idiot with a scalpel start cutting up innocent aliens! You,” he pointed at the Imperator. “Have no authority as far as I see it. The Empire would have despised you. No. The Empire would have _executed_ you.”

There was silence at that, and the Battlemaster felt no urge to defend the Imperator here. While he didn’t consider the Imperator on _that_ level of contempt, he deserved no pity or respect in this instance.

“He is right,” Sana stepped forward, her voice softer but firm. “We have retained and expanded the worst aspects of the Empire without making the reforms necessary. This goes beyond experimentation, Imperator. This is unjustifiable and cannot be salvaged. Perhaps you had good reasons for this, but those do not matter now. What does is what you do next.”

“Each of you has a right to be upset,” the Imperator finally said. “This situation is my fault and I accept this. It escaped my control, and the freedom I allowed was abused. There will be consequences for this, for that you have my assurance. An explanation as to why this was allowed in the first place will be provided on the Temple Ship.”

“What _consequences_?” The Battlemaster demanded.

“There are six Aspects to the Bringer,” the Imperator looked to the Temperance. “Constructed over years and each holding some of his power and mindset. If one dies, that aspect itself is destroyed and may take centuries to reform. As a result, there is a certain… motivation, to keep these Aspects alive and well.”

He looked back to the Battlemaster. “You have encountered two of them. Quisilia has encountered another. As powerful and skilled as the strongest of the Ethereals. But they have…been allowed too much free reign. As the result of this disappointing incident, three of these Aspects will be imprisoned and a far closer eye kept on this station.”

“ _What_?” Mortis yelled. “Are you _insane_? Why would you _want_ to help this thing? Did the fact that it _exists in the Psionosphere_ not give you an indication that _maybe_ working with it is _a bad idea!_?”

“It is _under control._ ” The Imperator stated with steel in his voice. “I would not take this action unless it was necessary, and I know how it will be kept under control. I know what it needs, and it needs us far more than we need it.”

Mortis threw a glance around. “It is _clearly_ under control.”

“The mistakes will not be repeated,” the Imperator promised. “You can rest assured of that.”

“No,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “Not good enough. The Aspects must die, as will the Creator.”

“While I can sympathize, that will not happen,” the Imperator said. “This is unfortunately necessary.”

The Battlemaster steeled himself. “Then I will inform the Voice.”

“The Voice is aware,” the Imperator said. “This is similarly sanctioned. The Sovereign Ones support this action, and I am taking their advice into consideration. Something I believe you have suggested I do more of.”

That was a blow. If the _Sovereign Ones_ were also sanctioning this then…why? But he couldn’t help but think the Imperator was using that as an excuse for the inexcusable. Sanctioned or not, this was not something that he was going to allow. “That does not change this situation. You may try and keep this running, but I will stand in your way every step of the way.”

The Imperator regarded him idly. “And what will you do, Battlemaster? Stay here? Fight me? You have more important duties, both to our species and the Collective. You have spent a long time on Earth without much to show for it. Perhaps your effectiveness has waned.”

“Insults and insinuations will fail,” the Battlemaster said flatly. “Both of us know the situation on Earth needed time to be reformed. You also have no one to replace me. Your threats are empty, and as far as I am concerned, this _is_ part of my duties to the Collective. Destroying places like _this,”_ he motioned around. “If you will not do what must be done, then the entire Collective will know of this place. As will Earth. I stated that I would bring those who were responsible for this attack to justice, and that _is_ what will happen.”

There was another flash, as Quisilia suddenly appeared, holding the beaten form of Yang in his arms. “Hello! What did I miss?”

The Battlemaster’s concern turned to her. “She’s alsive, but her body has been telepathically disrupted,” Quisilia assured him as he walked over to Sana. “You should be able to fix her.”

“I’m…fine, Battlemaster,” Yang called weakly.

“Good,” he said, before turning to Quisilia. “Where is the Zudjari?”

“Gone,” Quisilia said. “There was someone helping them. I believe she was affiliated with the same individual who attacked me in Australia.”

He would have to ask Yang about that, though he did feel he owed whoever this was. Regardless of the side of this individual, she had apparently helped them survive. The loss of Axis was unfortunate, but he felt some treasonous satisfaction that at least _someone_ on Earth would know about this place. “Unfortunate, but we will deal with it later. The important part is that she survived.”

“I would ask how serious you are, Battlemaster,” the Imperator finally said. “You would throw the Collective into pointless chaos to fulfill your sense of justice? It is far more destructive to the Collective than anything which has taken place here, all in an effort to blackmail me? I would suggest you hear what I have to say before you consider such actions.” The Imperator took a step forward. “We are both aware this is a bluff. You would not do that because it _would_ throw the Collective into chaos, the same Collective you have spent decades refining.”

“Because you would not,” the Battlemaster answered. “But if there is such a good reason for it, then I suppose you have no problem sharing it with the Collective?”

“Do not make this situation simpler than it is in actuality,” the Imperator said, his voice dropping. “This is a direct order to stand down, _Battlemaster_. At least until we can discuss this more rationally. Will you break an order because you are, right now, emotionally compromised?”

Would he?

Should he wait to see what the Imperator had to say before making a decision?

Then he remembered the rows of experimentation chambers where the victims had literally cannibalized themselves due to starvation, where they had been experimented on while they were alive, the children the mad Sectoid had forced to sing for them, and he knew that he had found a line. One that not even a superior could overrule.

A hand suddenly grabbed his upper arm. “Don’t push him farther,” Mortis said quietly. “I do not know if he will kill you, but he is gathering power. Don’t forget what happened, but getting yourself demoted or killed now won’t solve anything.”

Rationally, the Battlemaster knew he was right. This station would still be here. The evidence wouldn’t vanish, and there was nothing stopping him from carrying out his threats. But he would not give the Imperator the satisfaction of agreeing with him. Instead he looked to Quisilia. “There are a group of children on the second floor, in a theatre-like area. Recover them, and sweep the station for any others, child or adult. Remove them and send them to Sanctuary.”

Quisilia gave a mock salute. “With pleasure.”

The Battlemaster looked back to the Imperator. “Let’s leave this place,” he didn’t bother disguising the contempt in his voice. “Before I change my mind.”

* * *

 

Supplementary Material

Chronicles of Salvation:

- [Duo - Gentle Genesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889638/chapters/37028325#workskin)

- [Bactum - Voice of the Divine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889638/chapters/37028433#workskin)


	40. Creating the Future

 

_Outside Fort McMurray, Alberta – Canada_

_1/4/2017 – 8:11 P.M._

Four more disappearances. It was time to either determine the cause of the killings, or catch the perpetrators causing the scouts and deep patrol teams to vanish. Enough was enough, and she did not want to report to Alberta-3 that her forces were being bled dry. The Sargon was not like regular Mutons, and from one conversation she knew she was dealing with an alien smarter than her.

Runi’falia’borelia marched into the snowy forests where the soldiers had gone missing. She had initially felt fortunate to be assigned to a place on this planet with something resembling an acceptable climate, even if it wasn’t quite as nice as Borelia proper. It could have been far worse, she could have been assigned to Australia.

She shivered.

Instead, she’d been placed in charge of a small city which had been easily taken over by Collective forces, and was instructed to keep the population in line, catalogue the number of citizens, and fortify the cities for eventual counterattack. The first thing she’d done was prepare all non-essential civilians for processing to a more secure location. Women and children mostly, the males were useful as labor, and there were specialists that knew the area, methods, systems, and additional information about Humans.

Processing was nearly forty percent done, and the population was largely placated. No unrest, and cooperation was acceptable. The problem was not within the city, but beyond it. Falia suspected the culprits were either ADVENT stragglers, or hunters known to inhabit the land and not necessarily live in the cities. There was reason to suspect such, given that the bodies that had managed to be recovered showed signs of death by unconventional or less powerful weaponry than ADVENT standard.

Most of the time bodies weren’t found at all. Falia wondered grimly if they’d been eaten. She knew Humans didn’t typically eat sapient life…but she wouldn’t put it past some of the more savage Humans to do so. The stories of Human cannibals were…unsettling. Over twenty had died since their initial takeover, and only three had been able to be recovered.

However, four at a time was unusual. Normally it was one or two stragglers. Four implied that this was now a concerted effort, if it hadn’t been so before. Either they were now facing an actual ADVENT resistance, or there were stragglers working together to pick off her soldiers. No longer tolerable.

Twenty-five soldiers equipped in battle armor, thermal detection, and the finest weapons of the Collective would be more than adequate to deal with whatever stragglers they are dealing with. The force was mostly Borelians, but there were a few Vitakarian support soldiers and a Dath’Haram medic in case that was actually needed.

Along with two Humans, both of whom knew the area well and were animal hunters. Falia didn’t intend to use them as hostages, but if it came down to between protecting her soldiers or Humans, the choice was clear. “There is no animal which could kill them, is there?” She asked one of the bundled Humans, a short male with light skin.

“Not one that lives in this area,” the man answered, shrugging. “A bear definitely could, but the problem is that they’re likely hibernating, and more importantly, don’t live in this part of the country. Nothing venomous either. Afraid you don’t have an easy answer here.”

“Have you heard anything about this?” She growled. “Within the city? From the people?”

“No one’s sad about it,” the man said slowly. “But no contact, if that’s what you mean. Not surprised though, you’re dealing with people who excel in hunting animals down. Aliens aren’t too much different.”

“Is there anything in particular we should look for?” Runi’baliaha’borelia asked, another Borelian soldier. “You know how these people think.”

“We can make guesses, we’re not mind readers,” the second Human said. “But you’ll want to look for signs of activity. Fires, food, blood, anything out of the ordinary. Tracks will be covered up in the snowfall, and if they’re smart they’ll be covering their tracks anyway.”

Falia bared her teeth. “Will they have ways of controlling their body heat?”

The first Human snorted. “These are hunters, not ADVENT. No.”

That was good enough. “All soldiers switch to thermal,” she said. “They won’t be able to hide from us.”

“There may be traps as well,” one of her Vitakarian soldiers commented, raising his rifle. “Watch for those.”

“Agreed,” Falia motioned for the Humans to go to a duo of soldiers. “Watch them. They’ll have either left or we’ll kill or capture them.”

They nodded, then she and the remaining soldiers began fanning out into the woods, thermal vision on as they searched for the hunters. The trees were not thick, but they were dense and the woods were close to silent as they walked through them. The snow crunched under their feet as the darkness grew deeper.

She idly wondered if this should have been done when there had been more light. The problem was that she also wanted to bait these hunters out, and give them the illusion they would have the advantage if it was dark instead of light. Now that she was actually here, she wondered if it was a more significant advantage than she had first assumed.

“We’ve lost one!”

She turned towards the sound of the voice, as a couple of her soldiers came running up. “We turned around, and he was gone,” the first explained immediately. “No sound or thermal detection.”

They were here then. “Hostiles in the area,” she said through her linked intercom. “Regroup on my position.”

There were multiple acknowledgements…and a disturbing amount who didn’t report in at all. A few minutes later she was standing in front of a force which was half the size it had been. Something it seemed the majority of soldiers hadn’t noticed until now. “Did _nobody_ see them?” She demanded. “How could there be _no trace_ they were here?”

No one had an answer, and she thought for a moment, thinking of a way to salvage this. Much as she hated to admit it, retreating might be the smartest idea. Whoever these Humans were, they were very good, and almost certainly more numerous than she’d been expecting. Still, the thermal should have picked at least something up-

She heard something whistle in the air, and at a glance up saw a sphere-like object…“Grenade!” She yelled as she was already moving. “Down!”

A bright orange flash and boom followed, as a half dozen grenades landed around them, killing some of the clustered soldiers outright and wounding others. Her armor had absorbed the worst of the one closest to her, but she’d been on the outer edge of the blast radius. Sharp cracks suddenly rang out, and soldiers around her began falling, helmets punctured by firearms.

Stumbling upright, she then caught her first glimpse of the ones that they had been pursuing. But these were not hunters, they were quite clearly trained soldiers. Their armor was slim, colored a mix of whites and greys, and thinner than standard ADVENT armor. The helmets were blank faces which didn’t expose any skin, and now that she noticed, no skin at all was exposed.

She quickly switched to thermal and saw her suspicion was frighteningly correct. There was no thermal presence, despite this soldier standing right in front of her.

There were at least four, carrying shotguns, pistols and rifles as they executed the soldiers she had foolishly clustered together. She raised her own rifle until she felt a calm feeling sweep over her, one which made her hesitate before aiming, let alone shooting.

“Oh, no,” the soft voice of a Human woman said right beside her. “You’re coming with us. We’ve got questions for you.”

Inexplicably, Falia felt like she was going to collapse on her feet and fall asleep.

Much to her drowsy surprise, she did, and fell first to her knees, and then on her face in the cold and soft snow of Canada.

***

_Canadian Wilderness – Canada_

_1/4/2017 – 10:11 P.M._

In truth, the area where they’d brought the Borelian leader was not far away from their ‘main’ base, if it actually deserved such a name. At best it was a camp, one of four in the area. It just happened to be the one he was primarily working out of now. But this place they were at in the woods now was isolated, foreboding, and intimidating.

Perfect for an interrogation.

They didn’t necessarily need to conduct one, but Neil didn’t want to rely on psionics unless absolutely necessary. That kind of power didn’t sit right with him, regardless of if it was being used on aliens or not. The Borelians might have looked like animals, but that didn’t mean they would be treated as such.

While they were alive, in any case.

Two soldiers in ADVENT Snowtrooper armor stood behind the alien who’d been stripped of weapons and heavy armor. On her knees, she was still in the psionically-induced sleep thanks to Cycelea. The Inquisitor was at his side, while he was also flanked by Adam, a Molosser Handler who had one of the genetically modified dogs at his side.

The hound was huge, with a purebred wolf as the initial base instead of the standard German Shepherd. A bit too large for Neil to feel comfortable around, but the hound was a ferocious fighter and an excellent tracker, as well as exceptionally well-behaved. It was, however, baring it’s teeth and focusing the bright MELD-infused eyes on the alien.

At a single command, Adam could let the dog rip the Borelian apart. Not a pleasant way to die, and Neil wondered if the dog had developed a taste for Borelians after being fed several corpses they’d recovered earlier. Well, the dog had seemed to like it either way, even if he was messy with it.

Neil looked to Cycelea. “You can wake her whenever.”

“One moment.” The Inquisitor walked up to her and placed two fingers on the temple of the unconscious alien. She’d explained it was easier if she had physical contact with the being whose mind she wanted to control, and Neil had decided to accept that. It did make some degree of sense.

All of them were still in Snowtrooper armor, and he didn’t plan on revealing any of their faces. Not only because it was dangerous due to the cold, but because he didn’t want anyone picking out his face if this alien was psionically interrogated. Not to mention there was a certain intimidation factor he could exploit.

From what he knew of Borelians they wouldn’t be able to be coerced easily, and were resistant to pain. However, to his knowledge this had never been tested psionically. He supposed that was one good thing about psionics; it removed the need to inflict pain. Why bother when you could take what you needed straight from their minds?

The alien slowly opened her eyes, then tried recoiling once she saw the trio in front of her. The hound growled, as Neil raised a hand. “Don’t struggle, or you’ll be subdued again.”

Cycelea drew upon her power, briefly illuminating her form with a purple aura. The Borelian stopped, as Neil had hoped, recognizing the signs of psionic powers. “Yes,” Neil confirmed. “She’s a psion. A telepath.” The eyes of the alien widened at that.

“She’s definitely spooked at that,” Cycelea said through their internal comms, unheard by the Borelian. “Psionics in general seems to unsettle Borelians.”

“Now,” Neil continued, as if he hadn’t heard Cycelea. “I’m not exactly a fan of relying on that kind of thing, mind reading and all that,” he idly motioned with a hand. “But at the same time, I have work to do, so unless you want her poking around in your mind, you’ll answer my questions. You understand me?”

“Yes.” A low voice answered, not distinctly female compared to Human voices, but having heard both genders of the race speak, it definitely wasn’t as deep as a male.

“Good,” he crossed his arms. “Who knows you’re out here?”

“Several of my Captains. No one else. We assumed it was a group of hunters.”

Just what he wanted to hear. “We did our jobs then. So you could return without raising questions?”

“You killed all of my soldiers!” She growled up at him. “That _will_ raise questions.”

Neil smiled under his helmet. “Incorrect. We only killed about half of your forces; the rest we’re…holding. It wouldn’t be an unbelievable story if you were to be ambushed, and eventually retreat. Perfectly believable.”

“I won’t do that, I refuse to help an _enemy_ ,” she spat. “You will have to kill me.”

“Really,” Neil said dryly. “I don’t recall saying you had a choice. This was me…” he paused. “Thinking out loud. I don’t want you, I want your superior. The one managing Collective territory here.”

“Then you want Sargon Alberta-3,” she said. “But you won’t be able to kill him. And if you do…they will send another.”

Neil ignored her comment. “How many Sargons are there?”

“Three in total.”

Neil nodded; that was good. Sargons as far as he knew weren’t cheap, so killing them would hurt the Collective, even if they would eventually be replaced. Cut off the head, cause damage, and repeat. The Sargons were the most dangerous threat now, and if he was too aggressive, they might take direct action, and he wasn’t confident he could outwit three of them.

But strike before they all noticed? A plan with much higher odds.

“Do you have their locations?” He asked. “As well as the locations and names of other Human City Overseers?”

She bared her teeth. “I know where the Sargons are stationed, and I have access to the data on occupied Human settlements. But I will not provide them to you, as I have not memorized them. Even your psion can’t pry something I do not know.”

“Unnecessary,” Neil said. “Here is what is going to happen. You’ll return and continue as normal. However, you’ll turn over _every_ detail of your operations to one of my operatives. As well as the names, locations, and as much information as possible on all Collective officers and leadership. In return, when ADVENT liberates this area, you’ll be given a comfortable cell and a positive recommendation for your trial.”

“No,” the Borelian stated. “I will not.”

“I’m afraid you will,” Neil said, waving Cycelea forward. “While I’m not a fan of psionics, it does have its uses, and sadly I cannot take the chance that you’ll try and screw us over. Cycelea will ensure you do _exactly_ as I say, as will all the other soldiers we have. Don’t worry, she’s said it won’t hurt.”

“No…” the Borelian interrupted, the fight suddenly out of her. “Don’t let that happen! I don’t want her in my mind! I’ll do what you want.”

Neil hesitated. “Perhaps, but I have no guarantee. And that is just not good enough for me. My objective is more important than your mind.” He looked to the Inquisitor. “How long will it take?”

“The last one took just over an hour,” she said, stepping forward as the Borelian tried shrinking back. “I don’t think this one will be more difficult.”

“Report back to me when it’s done,” he said, turning away. “And good job.”

Ignoring the sounds of the Borelian roaring in protest before being abruptly cut off, he began making his way back to the camp with Adam. “Think this’ll work?”

“If the Inquisitors do their job, it will,” Neil said. “I intend to make this a test run. See how much we can get away with here. The Sargons are the priority, however, and we should move to remove them as soon as possible.”

Adam nodded. “Think we can make it look like an accident? Or take a Sargon over?”

“An accident? Possibly. Take one over…no,” Neil recalled what he’d been given. “Sargons have their own version of Manchurian Restraints. Besides, I wouldn’t risk keeping one alive. But I am hoping with our newly acquired Overseer, we can lure them to places of our choosing.”

“The others might catch onto that,” Adam grunted as he patted the hound on the head. “Especially if it happens twice in a row.”

“Which is why we ideally take control of another Overseer,” Neil said. “And launch the ops to kill the Sargons at once. With three Inquisitors and ADVENT’s best snipers, we can pull it off.”

“All at once?” Adam asked thoughtfully. “We’re not exactly an army.”

“We don’t need to be,” Neil said. “We just need a few good men and women to be at the right place at the right time.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Adam looked around the forest as he saw the camp coming up. “I don’t suppose we’ll be having something different to eat tonight?”

“Fresh Borelian meat,” Neil chuckled. “Some of the guys are actually going to try it. Your dog can have what’s left.”

“Ugh,” Adam was probably grimacing under his helmet. “Something just seems wrong about that.”

“Well, that’s what rations and deer meat are for,” Neil patted the man on the back. “But we all do what we must to survive, and aliens are as good a food source as anything. It’s not like it’s cannibalism.”

“ _Technically.”_

Neil smiled. If their biggest arguments were what to do with the corpses they had, then so far things were going well.

Now they had to wait and see how well the Inquisitors had done their jobs.

***

_ADVENT Diplomatic Command - Switzerland_

_1/12/2017 – 9:19 A.M._

“Polls are looking quite promising,” Kyong said as they reviewed the latest international and diplomatic news of note. “The Royal Family coming out in support of joining ADVENT has _greatly_ boosted the popularity of the referendum.”

“Prince Mason came through,” Saudia nodded approvingly. “Worth the concessions I gave him.”

“For certain,” Kyong agreed. “And I would argue that those ‘concessions’ will improve our reputation and military further. In fact, I believe Hassan is already developing a number of diplomatic avenues exploiting our dedication to preserving and protecting the culture of nations and our species. And Laura receives her melee unit for the military without having to rely on the Lancers.”

“A win-win for everyone involved,” Hassan said with a smile. “Are you sure you weren’t a diplomat before becoming Chancellor?”

Saudia thought back to her time in EXALT. “Not formally, but I was… _good_ …at having opposing parties come together for a shared goal. That skill has served me well.”

“I believe we’ll need it in the future,” Hassan said. “You’re developing something of a reputation among the diplomatic community, both in and _out_ of ADVENT. People are beginning to realize that when you become personally involved, things happen. Usually good things.”

“The details I leave to you, Firdaus,” she said inclining her head. “But I’ve found that people are more amenable to offers if they’re treated as equals. Respect goes a long way, especially when bringing nations into the fold.”

“Speaking of which,” Hassan pushed over a tablet. “We’ve got several interesting offers on the table here. Take a look. The Referendum, and the Seoul Massacre are shaking everything up.”

Saudia picked up the tablet, read it briefly, then looked to Hassan with a raised eyebrow. “Greece, Italy, and Poland want to talk about potential integration into ADVENT. That is…a pleasant surprise. This all but shatters the EU once and for all if it happens.”

“Yes it does,” Hassan nodded, lightly smirking. “Which is why some of them are using their positions as leverage. They are going to want certain amenities in exchange for joining ADVENT.”

“As long as they don’t want exemption from laws,” Saudia nodded. “So what are they?”

“Greece is in…some financial troubles,” Hassan began. “I’m sure you’re aware of them. They want us to cover any and all costs of leaving the EU, as well as settle any debts they have. I’ve passed the numbers to Jasmine and she’s looking at the best way to go about this while ensuring we recover quickly. It’s certainly feasible though.”

“And the other two?”

“Guaranteed protection, mostly,” Hassan gave a humorless smile. “Modern ADVENT tech, weapons, amenities; what they would get regardless. Of course I said we could provide it, but we can let them think it’s a concession we are making.”

Saudia smiled back. “Of course. This shouldn’t be too difficult. Have we heard anything from the SAS?”

“Nothing yet,” Hassan shook his head. “Which is…surprising. Not even an acknowledgement, and ADVENT Intelligence has been having trouble getting eyes there, which is another concern. I feel there is more going on there than we think?”

Saudia grimaced. “Alien involvement?”

“It would make the difficulties Intelligence is facing explainable,” Hassan said slowly. “But I can’t say for certain. Betos _did_ know quite a lot about the inner workings of ADVENT, although now her information is significantly out of date.”

“I’ll have to speak to Elizabeth about that,” Saudia said, thinking. “We have Inquisitors now. If they ultimately penetrate or not…it will reveal a great deal.”

“In the meantime…” Kyong looked to his own tablet. “Further talks with the Chinese are upcoming. They’ll be wanting some more of our technology, especially since they’re helping us with our own AI projects.”

“We can likely spare some technology,” Saudia said. “Feng has finalized ETC weaponry, which would provide a massive boost to the Chinese specifically. Not on the level of standard ADVENT weapons, but enough to protect themselves.”

Hassan frowned. “Sorry, what is this?”

Saudia rubbed her forehead. “Honestly I only remember that Feng said it would make our arsenal of previous generation weapons relevant again. You’ll want to speak to him for a better idea, but I do know it _will_ allow us to produce weapons for our militias and stockpiles fast enough to make sure every city can protect themselves within months.”

“I’ll speak to him about it,” Kyong nodded. “Now, there is one more thing I want to bring to your attention, which I _believe_ could potentially give us a significant diplomatic advantage going into Africa.”

“Besides the alien threat?” She asked rhetorically.

“Yes,” Kyong said, pressing the screen on his tablet several times. “This was sent by the Environmental Development Team of R&D. Project Greenwall. Have you heard of it?”

Saudia shook her head. “No, not that one.” It was not especially surprising she didn’t hear about it, there were a multitude of projects that were being worked on that she only knew the basics of, if anything beyond that. Only major projects or ones with something to show were ones she knew of. Project Greenwall was not one of them. “What is it?”

“The short version?” Kyong glanced back down. “Reversing the desertification of Africa.”

Saudia just raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

“It isn’t quite as crazy as it sounds,” Kyong explained. “The proposal is extremely thorough. Creations of artificial lakes and controlled flooding, planned forest development and soil creation, controlled livestock deployment and grazing, and plans for excavating and utilizing the excessive amounts of sand, especially in the Sahara. It’s not necessarily that the technology is demanding, rather it just requires manpower, time, and dedication.”

“In theory that _is_ possible,” Hassan said slowly. “But the scale of it…it would be one of the largest projects undertaken in Human history. With no actual guarantee it would actually work.”

“It _is_ a large project,” Kyong said. “However, it would be a unification project, one spanning countries who would work together to better the entire continent. It would also allow these nations to contribute themselves, and feel like they are making a difference. This is especially potent for civilians.” He paused. “In more practical terms, this makes Earth more habitable, and will be an exceptionally powerful tool we can use to appeal to nations to join ADVENT. This would partially be a PR stunt…but a substantial one.”

“You’re saying we offer this, without requesting integration into ADVENT?” Saudia frowned. “I don’t agree with that. If they wish to benefit from ADVENT, they should join themselves. Should we fix Africa for them, they have no reason to join us.”

“Let’s be honest, Chancellor,” Kyong said. “The world will eventually be under ADVENT control. It may be five or fifty years, but it _will_ happen. Doing this, no strings attached, could speed up this process and make ADVENT more appealing. If we’re seen to be willing to do this to non-ADVENT nations, imagine what it is like within our own borders?”

“There is the slight problem of this happening during an alien invasion,” Saudia pointed out.

“This would not be a military project,” Kyong reminded her. “It would primarily employ mostly civilians, with ADVENT oversight of course, and focus on involving the local country and economy which it takes place in. Contributing to the war effort is important, but not everyone necessarily needs to do so.”

“There _is_ something that could be done as a trial,” Hassan said, who had most likely also downloaded the document on his tablet. “The project calls for the proof of concept to be done in the Middle East, a smaller area to work with which could prove the viability of it.”

“An area that is fully under our control,” Saudia mused. “And in the process of reconstruction.”

“A regional project might have positive ramifications,” Kyong said. “Something on this scale would tighten the bonds between the nations, as well as ADVENT. It would give the civilians something to do that directly benefits them.”

“Of course this would likely take years to be fully realized,” Hassan said. “But I imagine within half a year we could see immediate improvements.”

Saudia thought for a moment. “Send this off to Tygan, Munju, Jasmine, and Marshall. Laura as well. If most of them sign off on it, let the trial run start. Add your own signatures if you wish. It could have merit, but I want other opinions. Inform the author of this project to be prepared for detailed inquires.”

“Yes, Chancellor.”

While Saudia did wonder if this was something ADVENT would end up doing, she _was_ certainly going to make sure that if they won, this project would be accomplished. If nothing else, ADVENT didn’t lack ambition. It would do good for the world to see that ADVENT was capable of changing the world legitimately for the better.

Of course, some might argue that the removal of an ecosystem was similarly destructive, but Saudia did not consider the loss of a desert a major loss. The wildlife would adapt or die, but the overall habitability for Humanity would rise.

More importantly, this might be the first step towards experimenting with terraforming. Earth was the first test, and if they could successfully alter the Earth, other planets in the galaxy would soon follow.

Perhaps this project would ultimately prove beneficial during the war after all.

***

_ADVENT Military Base, Busan – South Korea_

_1/12/2017 – 10:10 A.M._

He was far from back to normal, but he supposed that having ruled out suicide or alien murder as an option, he could consider it an improvement. Enough for him to function, at least. Duri was just going with the flow at this point. Easier to fall into a routine. Do what they say. Speak to the counselors. He didn’t know if they actually cared, but they at least put enough effort in to seem genuine.

Sitting under an overcast sun as ADVENT continued construction in the background, Duri kept reading the documents the consular had given to him. Physical documents, she’d said he would be able to focus more than just putting them on a tablet. Whatever the validity of it, he did like the feeling of something real in his hands.

“Didn’t expect to find you here,” Duri glanced behind him to see Nobuatsu walking up. Not too much of a surprise their medic was keeping an eye on him. Out of all of them, he’d likely been the most concerned with Duri doing something drastic. “Last time you went missing-“

“You don’t need to worry,” Duri reassured him. “I’m past that point.”

“Still,” Nobuatsu took a seat on the same bench. “At least tell one of us. Not a good sign when none of us know where you are, and our first instinct is…not anything pleasant.”

“I’ll do that,” Duri promised, then sighed. “Sorry, I’ve…not been a good officer lately.”

The man snorted. “With what you went…what you’re going through, I’d be more personally concerned if you _hadn’t_ reacted. Don’t apologize, just…keep us informed.” He nodded to the documents in Duri’s hand. “Stuff the counselors gave you?”

“So they say,” Duri answered, glancing back down at them. “Whatever the Battlemaster says, the Collective was behind this. Aliens. The only way to get some measure of justice is to destroy the Collective.” He pursed his lips. “So I need to learn about the aliens. Most of these are descriptions and information about them. Their biology, organizations, cultures, government, politics. The defectors are useful for something, at least.”

“And you’ll use it to fight them better.” Nobuatsu nodded. It wasn’t a question.

“To start with,” Duri answered. “But I’ll know what will hurt them the most. Understanding how they think will be the first step to destroying everything they care about. I don’t need to strike the killing blow, but when I get the opportunity, the aliens in the Collective will suffer.”

The medic chewed his lip. “Assuming ADVENT will allow you.”

“ADVENT?” Duri snorted. “They won’t mind how we kill aliens. They certainly aren’t going to feel sorry for them. We don’t need to stoop to their level to make their lives hell.” He placed a finger on the paper. “It takes very little to break Vitakarian lines. Explosives and long-term weaponry shatters morale quite easily. Mutons are fodder without leadership. The Collective can’t handle chaos without degenerating further. It’s like they’ve never actually fought a war before.”

“I don’t think they have,” Nobuatsu agreed. “Well, I don’t think the Vitakarians or Mutons have.”

“Andromedons seem to have experience,” Duri recalled. “Their own history is quite interesting. More so than I expected. But even they were best at space guerilla warfare. Open battlefields are not their forte. Don’t ask me about the Ethereals. Most of what’s on them is restricted.”

“Well,” the man gave a wan smile. “The Ethereals don’t have a good track record for wars, otherwise there would be a lot more Ethereals to worry about.”

“In any event,” Duri set the papers down. “They’ve suggested I look into applying for genetic modification.”

Nobuatsu blinked. “I thought that was only restricted to special forces and essential ADVENT positions?”

“It is,” Duri said. “For now. They’re fast-tracking the construction of what they’re calling Gene Therapy Clinics. There are two kinds from what I’ve heard: Civilian, which is more for handling hereditary diseases and pre-birth genetic manipulation. Then there’s Military. That has the actual combat mods. Iron Skin. Enhanced Eyesight. Organ Redundancy. Supposedly ADVENT is going to make a big push for even the lowest soldiers to be modified.”

He whistled. “Can they even keep up with all of that?”

“Don’t know,” Duri admitted. “It’s ADVENT, so I wouldn’t say it’s out of the question. The point is that because of my…focus…he suggested I look into it, and if I agreed, I could be one of the first.”

“Are you planning on it?”

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” Duri said with a shrug. “And if it helps me kill more aliens, I’m not going to turn it down.” He sighed. “I doubt my wife would have approved. She found the idea…unnatural. She’s probably right, but if becoming something unnatural is an advantage, then I need to take it.”

“Understandable,” Nobuatsu nodded. “I’ll admit, the idea intrigues me as well. Whenever one of these clinics are built, I’ll likely look into it myself.”

“Hopefully they build them sooner than later,” Duri said as he looked back to the ADVENT personnel continuing to fortify in the distance. “This lull will not last forever.”

***

_ADVENT Military HQ - Switzerland_

_1/12/2017 – 3:00 P.M._

“Let’s get down to business.”

Saudia was more than happy to begin, as they had a great deal to discuss. There was a great deal of projects and plans the military had to take into consideration, and every member in the room had an important role in making sure everything successfully came together, as well as had the necessarily clearance to know what ADVENT was planning and the full scope of their operations.

Laura’s own inclusion was obvious, and she was, as far as Saudia was concerned, the lead on this meeting. The military was her domain, and Saudia was here to ensure that everything was reasonably proposed and planned. The additional men she’d also brought along were Ravi Kapadia, the Chief of Military Logistics and vital part of keeping the war machine stable, and Robert Groves, Director of the newly implemented Superweapons program of ADVENT.

Saudia had raised her eyebrow when she’d seen the division proposal several weeks ago. Since Laura had brought him along, she assumed it was for a good reason. But it was a reasonable proposal, as she suspected they would need superweapon-level technology to ever hope to beat the Collective, much less kill the Ethereals.

“Where do you want to start?” Saudia asked, resting herself above the holotable. “This is your meeting.”

Commander Christiaens cleared her throat and motioned Ravi forward. The Indian man had seemed slightly nervous when they’d been introduced, but he composed himself well enough now. “First, an update on Project Atlantis.” The holotable flashed and showed a blue simulation of the ocean floor, along with some construction equipment and half-finished buildings. “Construction is proceeding, and with the construction Gateway Network established, we’ve ensured that it’s unlikely the Collective will realize what we’re doing for quite some time.”

“But they still could?” Saudia noted.

Ravi coughed. “There _is_ always that risk, Chancellor, but with the precautions we’ve taken, it will severely hinder them. Aside from the initial staging team, there have been no further physical operations in the areas where Project Atlantis is taking place. The facilities shipping the materials do not know where they are going, or what they are used for.”

“The fleets themselves are also unaware,” Laura added, pointing as the hologram shifted to a 3D plane to show the surface and the construction far underneath it. “I’ve scheduled a rotating patrol for multiple fleets, so while there will almost always be some level of surface protection, it will appear completely normal.”

“Once construction of the facilities is finished…” Ravi paused. “Phase two will begin; relocation of the engineers and architects to Atlantis. Nemo Protocols will be established to ensure no contact with the surface. All necessary communication with the project will be done in person – no physical or digital documents should be shared with the surface. We have to anticipate the Collective will attempt to improve their penetration capabilities or utilize psionic observers.”

“Nemo Protocols include Manchurian Restraints?” Saudia asked, though she suspected the answer.

“Absolutely,” Ravi nodded. “Minor ones, but we can’t take chances here. The fleet will be quite possibly our best chance of surprising the Collective. Even if they _do_ discover it, if we can prevent them from knowing _what_ Atlantis is for, we still have a chance.”

“And these engineers,” Saudia asked. “Have they begun outlines for the fleet?”

“Indeed,” Laura pressed a button on the holotable and several schematics popped up. “There are isolated teams who’ve been tasked with designing one ship of the eventual fleet with certain parameters. At the moment they’ve been led to believe that construction will take place in remote locations, possibly in the Middle East or South America. Perceptions we have reinforced with false references and documents to throw off any Zararch penetration.”

“Ideally, we want production to begin immediately after the factories complete,” Ravi added. “Hence why the Engineering teams are developing proofs of concept for spacecraft. Nothing resembling a working ship…yet. But considering at _best_ the basic facilities for Atlantis will not be complete for a minimum of three months yet, they have time.”

“Time to also begin implementation of what will be our newest iteration of our Naval Forces,” Laura said. “I’ve requested the Seatrooper Project be sped up, using the reasoning of exploiting an area of Earth the Collective does not have a notable advantage in, to further expand and update our naval forces, and to provide a counter to the Andromedon Aquatic Forces and possibly the Sar’Manda in the future. That is the official justification.” She looked Saudia in the eyes. “Unofficially, the reason is to protect Atlantis from any Collective attack. If they learn about it, and decide to attack, I want them to run straight into an army under the sea.”

Saudia remembered the proposal. “Then I suppose development will focus on the Depthtrooper prototype?”

“Yes and no,” Laura said. “The standard Seatrooper will be given the media focus, one which Feng is all too happy to perpetuate. But yes, the bulk of development will be on the Depthtrooper units, as well as the proposed Atlantis Guard and Neptune Explorers. The Atlantis Architect proposal has already been largely implemented since construction has begun, but it will be refined.”

“Good,” Saudia nodded. “You have my approval to take any measures you feel are necessary to ensure the success and secrecy of this project. Send over whatever documents you need me to sign.”

“Excellent,” Laura nodded to Ravi. “Continue.”

“Of course,” Ravi switched the hologram once again to show a map of the world. “The vital components of the Gateway Network are officially up and running. We have Gateways at all major zones of potential conflict, major government facilities, and major military bases. In theory we should be able to reinforce areas like Busan, Seoul, Tokyo, Vegas, and more near-instantly…with infantry, admittedly, but it will be enough to buy more time.”

Saudia nodded. “Good news. And the network is secure?”

“As secure as we can make it,” Laura pursed her lips. “Aegis has assured us that they are impossible to hack unless one knows the connection numbers. As long as those are protected, and protocols are followed to prevent any unauthorized Gateway from connecting...yes, it should be secure.”

“We have two options for immediate expansion,” Ravi continued. “We can continue to place Gateways in every major city, and soon all across the country, or we can utilize the Gateways in a more…revolutionary way.”

“How?”

“Logistics, of course,” Ravia smiled thinly. “The Gateways have provided us a way to immediately stock, resupply, and speed up the utilization of essential components and equipment. What would take days to arrive at our bases could be done _instantly_ as soon as production has finished. No risk of interception, no risk of being lost, the traditional targets of supply lines would be completely removed from the equation. We don’t have to rely on transportation to support our facilities any longer.”

That _was_ something Saudia had to admit was a significant advantage. Supply lines were usually easy targets, and she could only assume the reason they hadn’t been targeted yet was because the Collective might not have actually considered it. “The only issue is the size limitation,” she pointed out. “The Gateways are not large enough for significant quantities at a time.”

“Yes, it won’t remove supply lines immediately,” Ravi admitted. “But I can assure you that for most pieces or packages, it can work and will ultimately be faster.”

“Then focus on that,” Saudia said. “If the essential part of the Network is complete, then focus on improving the logistics. I _do_ want expansion on secondary bases to continue, but at a pace which is feasible.”

“Of course, Chancellor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kapadia,” Laura nodded. “Before we move on, we should briefly discuss something which does affect all of ADVENT, not just the military. EMP attacks, specifically. Treduant’s stunt was useful and exposed a major weakness in the Collective…and ourselves, for that matter. I doubt it will take time for the Collective to realize this.”

“The Blackout Protocols,” Saudia recalled the initial plans ADVENT had developed after D.C. had been attacked. “I agree. EMP hardening for our vital systems is essential, as well as preparing for any of our forces coming under this attack. Feng has said ETC weapons should help mitigate this too.”

“I suspect we’ll want to try this tactic again,” Laura said. “But it shouldn’t hinder us like it did last time.”

“Pass it along to Infrastructure and Engineering,” Saudia said. “The protocols in place are sufficient for now.”

“And I am planning to put into motion another branch for the Army,” Laura continued, sliding a tablet towards her. “Or a kind of special forces if you prefer. The trenches are likely going to be copied by the aliens, and with it the same strengths and weaknesses. Namely that they are confining, and properly equipped soldiers could cause massive havoc if they managed to get into the line.”

Saudia looked down at the document with some interest. “Stormtroopers.”

“No, it wasn’t based off of what you’re thinking,” Laura said, almost rolling her eyes, picking up on her lightly teasing tone. “Or did you not know of the _actual_ German Stormtroopers?”

“Of course I do,” Saudia said. “Though only the name.”

“They specialized in exactly what I described,” Laura said. “In World War I they were responsible for infiltrating and raiding trenches. They caused a significant amount of havoc and death for the Allied Forces, and I want to have some good come out of that idea. Turning this idea against the aliens would be fitting.”

“Wouldn’t this fit closer to the Order of Terra?” Saudia pointed out.

“The Order will be better for sustained and major assaults,” Laura countered. “These would be independent missions, more focused on chaos and sabotage than outright victory. They’ll be mobile, few, and heavily armed. Surprise is more important than protection. It would be a dangerous position, but it would have a valuable role.”

“I can see them working closely with the Order as well,” Saudia noted. “Especially when sweeping and clearing buildings.”

“Yes, they would complement each other well,” she agreed. “But I want to have this ready to go when the aliens end up stealing our idea.”

Saudia smirked. “It’s amusing that they would take ideas from such a primitive species. They probably hate it.” There were several chuckles at that.

“Speaking of dangerous weapons,” Laura finally motioned the final man in the room forward. “Director Groves, of the Superweapons R&D.”

“A pleasure, Chancellor.” Unlike Ravi, Robert Groves seemed fully comfortable around her, and had an air of confidence around him. “I’m pleased this department was opened in the first place.”

“I suspect it will be needed,” Saudia nodded.

“Indeed,” Robert nodded, scratching his beard. “While I’m not certain that ‘superweapon’ is the best description of what we are doing, it is sufficient. I would personally define it as the development of large-scale offensive and defensive systems and delivery mechanisms for the purposes of protecting ADVENT and quashing the alien threat.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“That we are capable of far more destructive capability than the Collective wishes to believe,” Robert said with some smugness. “We have nuclear weapons, of course. But sadly, no major leaps of similar scale have taken place in decades. Already we are capable of producing salted nukes, a devastating weapon which most would be understandably hesitant to use on our planet. However, we are working on the means to make these weapons of destruction more… _practical_.”

He pressed another button, and the image of a missile with some accompanying text appeared. “Project Telum Ignis, which is something of a continuation of Project Casaba-Howitzer, which itself was a refinement of Project Orion, both of which were US Projects that have been in various stages of implementation. Casaba-Howitzer was never technically ended, but in the past couple decades the focus was shifted to other projects.”

He raised a finger. “Now, you may be wondering what the project _was_. To shorten the story, Project Orion was the investigation of using nuclear bombs to propel a spacecraft, and in this process discovered how to focus a nuclear blast into a narrow cone. They immediately realized it could be used as a weapon, and from it Project Casaba-Howitzer was born to explore this idea of a nuclear directed energy weapon. I’m pleased to say that Project Telum Ignis is on track to perfect it.”

The hologram continued in a simulation which showed the nose of the missile exploding and firing cone-shaped blast in front of it. “The benefits of nuclear power without as much collateral damage,” Robert continued proudly. “This is, admittedly, something that is most useful on large or stationary targets. Military bases, capital ships, but I can assure you that it _will_ vaporize anything in its path. Even better, it’s far less powerful than standard nuclear weapons due to requiring much less power to focus it. Any fallout, even if used on the ground, should be negligible in the long run.”

“You foresee this as an anti-spacecraft weapon?” Saudia asked.

“I foresee it as an anti-target weapon,” he clarified. “Aim this at something, and it will annihilate it. But I understand what you are saying. I see these being exceptionally useful against alien bases, medium-sized spacecraft, and space stations. I say specifically these because they don’t move much, if at all. If they detect it ahead of time, smaller craft and priority targets _could_ get out of the way. The focused power of the missile does diminish the radius. At the moment, this weapon is called the Atomic Lance. We are preparing to build prototypes to test, but simulations are extremely promising.”

“You want to test it,” she said. “On Earth.”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Preferably against an alien installation.”

Saudia exchanged a glance with Laura. “I’ll look into it. Continue your development in the meantime. Good work.”

“I have one more project to share,” Robert said, raising a hand as he switched the hologram with his free one. “This one is slightly more…ambitious and risky. But it _could_ in theory prevent _anything_ from entering our planet.”

Intriguing. “Continue.”

A hologram of the globe appeared. “Project: Nanosphere.”

Ravi pursed his lips. “You were right when you mentioned it was risky.”

“As it sounds,” Robert continued. “This involves nanites. Specifically ones designed to be released into the thermosphere and maintain an orbit around Earth. They would be launched via rocket or railgun, and simply float…until they encounter foreign material. They would begin disassembling the foreign objects and replicating to add to the greater Nanosphere.”

The hologram showed several red dots which floated around the globe. “This serves us twofold,” he explained. “It will first help clean the atmosphere and orbit of the amount of space junk that exists, and destroy any alien craft that comes into our atmosphere, provided there is a nanite swarm in the area. It would need a significant amount of nanites to be effective, but we’ve calculated an amount that will be enough to begin the process to saturation.”

Saudia smiled grimly at that. The idea was certainly appealing. However, there were some obvious questions. “I assume there is a means by which we would be able to pass through? We do not want to be trapped on our planet.”

“Of course,” Robert quickly assured her. “There are three methods. The primary one will be the development of an IFF which all ADVENT spacecraft, satellites, and other personnel will broadcast which will negate the Nanosphere in a certain radius. Alternatively there _will_ be a kill switch for multiple parts of the Nanosphere, and it is highly susceptible to EMP attacks. And for those concerned about nanites falling to Earth and replicating…if they somehow fell out of orbit, they would be burned up upon reentry.”

He motioned to the hologram. “This is not an especially difficult project, but nanotech makes people hesitant. But Nanosphere takes the risks into consideration, and those are far outweighed by the benefits this provides.”

“Put this into production immediately,” Saudia ordered. “This is the kind of work I want to see. Excellent job.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Robert inclined his head with a smile. “We will not disappoint. You will receive a full implementation plan by the end of the week.”

“I look forward to it,” she said, looking around. “Unless you have something to add Laura, I believe this covers everything important. Good work everyone, meeting adjourned.”

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Outpost, Brasília - Brazil_

_1/6/2017 – 6:11 A.M._

“So you haven’t really done anything?” Abby asked blandly at the Intelligence operative opposite her. “Why?”

“Because quite frankly, we’ve had better things to do,” ADVENT Intelligence Officer Silvio Andrade answered in near-frustration. “The terrorist attacks were bad, yes, but they didn’t really leave anything behind, and more importantly, there haven’t been many attacks since, or at least none of that magnitude.”

Abby pursed her lips. “Psionic attacks were reported, correct?”

“Correct.”

“And these terrorists probably didn’t want to found, correct?”

“Most likely.”

“And there were reasonable reasons to focus on other operations instead of hunting them down, correct?”

“We were dealing with an illegitimate invasion, the removal of the de-facto leader of the country, and Operation Sherman was starting. _Yes_ there were better things to focus on.”

“Right,” Abby said. “So how out of the question is it that these terrorists used their seemingly considerable skill in telepathy to…redirect your attention?”

Silvio opened his mouth to answer, suddenly closed it, and frowned as he thought. “That…is a good point…”

“I’m assuming ADVENT Intelligence thought the same,” Abby said, crossing her arms. “Or maybe the Commander figured out something was off about the response. Either way, I’m going to help put this matter to rest. I’ve requested several Inquisitors to assist in this operation, as well as the Military Branch of the PRIEST Division on call should we need them.”

Silvio appraised the younger woman opposite him. “I’ll make sure we get what is needed. It sounds like you have a theory about this.”

“I do,” Abby pulled out a beige file from her bag and slid it across the table. “Reviewing the initial reports, and speaking with Aegis, it’s very likely that there is an Ethereal behind this. One by the name of Nebulan.”

“Shit,” he cursed as he took the file. “Didn’t think it would be _that_ bad. Anything beyond guesswork?”

“This particular Ethereal is a master illusionist,” Abby said as he read. “More than capable of affecting three separate attacks, and also capable of making sure they aren’t investigated. In fact, this wouldn’t be the first time she’s done it.” She quickly raised a hand. “Don’t ask. Classified. The point is that this fits her methods, and explains why _no one_ immediately launched an investigation into a _psionic attack_.”

“Well then,” he let out a sigh. “I can say right now that my confidence in taking down an Ethereal is not especially high. I can safely say we aren’t prepared for it.”

“Things are different now,” Abby reminded him. “We’ve got our own psions and the Manchurian Restraints. She won’t be able to pull it off this easily again.”

“I suppose the question is what she’s doing,” Silvio mused. “Using disenfranchised Humans or just dominating them? For what?”

“Using them,” Abby suggested. “A means to an end. Plausible deniability to an extent. Possibly using Argentinian and Brazilian nationalists and separatists. ADVENT isn’t popular in Argentina, especially after Uruguay, and Marshal Luana didn’t help the image during her brief control. Recruitment wouldn’t be hard for a telepath.”

“What are the chances that the Argentinian government is compromised?” He wondered.

“Don’t know,” Abby pursed her lips, propping her chin on her hand. “But we should establish that she probably _is_ in Argentina before we investigate, if she’s even on the continent at all. I want everyone who’s been assigned to this case so far, all here, and I also want a Savoraim or Qalandar specializing in memory alteration or telepathy.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“Research Branch of the PRIEST Division,” she quickly recounted. “Savoraim and Qalandar are research positions. I first want to know if I’m right and Nebulan _did_ tamper with this investigation.”

“I’ll request them,” he promised. “As well as everyone already working on this. Give me and them a couple days to get here and sort everything out. In the meantime you can talk with the people here now.”

“Sounds good,” Abby stood. “Time to start hunting an Ethereal.”

***

_ADVENT Infrastructure Modeling and Research, Berlin – Germany_

_1/13/2017 – 9:58 A.M._

This was, Saudia believed, the first time she had actually visited the Modeling and Research facility of the Department of Infrastructure. It had been one of the first buildings repurposed for this specific purpose, which she recalled was experimenting with means of infrastructure, since after all, they wanted to improve it and not simply stagnate.

Thus the Department of Infrastructure included many scientists, in addition to engineers, among its ranks. While anything relating to infrastructure would be a large investment, Saudia was quite happy to do it if the results were of the quality she expected. She didn’t have issues sinking what would be millions of dollars into experiments that wouldn’t always work.

She knew they wouldn’t be wasted on anything frivolous or clearly unworkable. These people knew not to abuse ADVENT’s generosity.

A benefit of having the largest economy in the world, and complete control over a currency the Collective was only too happy to provide them. Ironically, each battle was helping to replenish any funds that were lost. Jasmine had a better handle on the economy than she did, so she trusted that it wasn’t going to collapse anytime soon. Appropriate taxation was certainly another contributor to their economic dominance.

“Chancellor Vyandar, welcome!” A thin British man greeted her, accent more pronounced than most British people she’d interacted with. “There is much to show you!”

“Lead the way, Mr. McNeil,” she motioned forward as they began walking through the fairly open facility. Frederick McNeil, Head of the Department of Infrastructure, architect, project manager, and visionary. He’d been a heavy proponent of looking to future solutions for aging infrastructure, although until recently even he had trouble securing the necessary funding.

That was fortunately not a problem any longer.

“I see your teams have been hard at work,” Saudia noted as they walked, seeing the rooms organized by project type and clearly marked with directions and maps placed throughout the building. Not especially pretty, but highly practical. “I’ll let you decide what to show first.”

“Yes, of course,” the man adjusted his glasses as they made a turn. “There are three main areas of focus: Economical, Military, and Civilian. I will start with the less impressive, which is the Economical portion.”

“I’m hurt,” Saudia said lightly. “With the amount of money we’re giving you, you don’t need to try and conserve it just to make us feel better.”

McNeil luckily chuckled. “Trust me, Chancellor, we’re spending your money. But to clarify: When I say _economical,_ I mean something that can be developed, built, and deployed in a short amount of time without the need for exotic resources, while also reusing what ADVENT has no immediate use for.”

They stepped into a square room, which had several squares of bound-together cylinders of various sizes. There were several other personnel in the room, as well as several gauss weapons on the table. “Our first viable Economical project, Liquid Barriers.”

“Are those tanks filled with water?” She asked.

“Water certainly works, but in truth you could theoretically put anything into them,” McNeil clarified. “However, the idea started based on the fact that projectiles are slowed down significantly underwater. So we put together some cylinders made out of inexpensive metal, filled them with water, and shot them.”

“And it worked?” Saudia asked.

“As in it stopped the projectile? Yes.” McNeil motioned her to one of the cylinders. “Obviously it doesn’t stand up well to a sustained attack, and grenades decimate them. But if you want a fast way to defend or reinforce an area, these will provide an extra layer of protection.” He raised a finger. “More importantly, it can be a means to dispose of certain unwanted materials. Black water, which is sewage, works just as well as pure water, and sand is also surprisingly effective. Sand actually works best against laser and plasma weapons.”

Sand. Well then, perhaps there was one use for the large amount of sand that was going to become available soon. “What about repairing it? Going out into the crossfire does not seem wise.”

“We thought of that,” McNeil put his hand on one of the handles she now saw built into the cylinder, and turned it so the outside was now facing them. “Complete 360 degree repair. Can be repaired and refilled from the safety of the barricade.”

Saudia nodded. “Good. This can be used to fortify civilian cities and areas without much current defensive capability. Possibly will save lives, and can be incorporated into established defenses. Viable; send it to Commander Christiaens to see where she wants to integrate them.”

“Certainly,” he nodded, already moving to the next area. A few minutes later they were in an area which was noticeably cooler, and Saudia saw quite a few models of buildings and larger test walls and systems in the experimentation rooms.

“Military Infrastructure R&D,” McNeil said proudly. “What I hope to say is the future of ADVENT military infrastructure. I believe you’ll be pleased with what we’ve developed and discovered.” They first stepped in front of a block of what Saudia first thought looked like silvery foam. Which is to say, full of holes.

“This was particularly interesting to us,” McNeil said. “CMF, or composite metal foam. Don’t let the appearance deceive you, this is one of the toughest substances we’ve developed. The air bubbles, which you see, actually are highly important to this material. They are essential for CMF absorbing impacts and heat, since they don’t just ricochet off the metal, but instead can shatter on impact.” He motioned. “See if you can lift it.”

Saudia frowned, but complied. To her surprise, she was able to lift the metal block up, even if it wasn’t exactly _light_ , it wasn’t nearly as heavy as she would have expected for something of its size. “CMF is light as well, thanks to the more porous nature of the material,” he continued. “Not to mention it ultimately saves resources. We can make two or three times the amount of CMF as traditional metal, since the process consumes roughly a third of the raw materials needed.”

“I see,” Saudia wondered what the drawback was. “And is there a catch to be aware of?”

“It takes longer to produce, as the metal itself needs to be bounded to a matrix element,” he said, which Saudia didn’t exactly know what he meant by that. “But I don’t believe there is a significant drawback other than the lack of high-volume production facilities.”

“So where do you see this being incorporated?” She asked.

He motioned her to a table, where she saw the standard design of an ADVENT Barracks building, only it was made entirely out of the porous metal. “For future construction of ADVENT military facilities, I’ve incorporated a layer of CMF into the design, further reinforcing them. But the material itself, Chancellor? Far beyond infrastructure. Vehicles, armor, shields, this has significant potential beyond my oversight. I’ve already informed the other department heads about this.”

“Good,” Saudia nodded. “If you have appropriate schematics, I can ensure the new facilities are built to the new standard.”

“Ah, I’m not done,” McNeil smiled, bringing her over to another model. “What you’ve seen is made solely from materials on Earth. When made with alien alloys…I believe we might possibly have something tougher than their own metals. This,” he pointed at the shield of metal. “Is CMF made out of pure alien alloys and hardened with an outer layer of MELD. We have yet to actually find a way to destroy it. While extremely resource-intensive, not even alien alloys have this much durability.”

“Well done,” she complimented. “No small feat.”

“Indeed, and there is a little more to show,” he motioned her to yet another model, though this one seemed built out of stone. “This is the results of Project Blackrock,” he said, extending a hand to the model. “An investigation into the potential advantages of using stone as structural armor. Diorite, Granite, and so on. The results were surprisingly positive. Extremely hard, high heat resistance, and not exceptionally difficult to find.”

He cautiously raised a hand. “Now, with that said, there are a few weaknesses. Heavy kinetic weapons and explosives can damage it, but on the other side it will render energy weapons near-useless.”

“How do you see it being used?” She asked.

“Preferably as exterior armor,” he reached to the model and picked it up, revealing there was a CMF model underneath it. “Ideally, the most important structures in ADVENT would have a concrete composite based on Project Blackrock, with a CMF layer of protection, with slabs of cut stone serving as exterior armor. An impenetrable fortress; further still if we wish to incorporate nano-repair.”

He shrugged. “Otherwise, these can easily be cut into fortifications for reinforcing buildings and positions. The only challenges will be cutting and harvesting the required stone types, but with ADVENT supporting it, this can be an easily overcome challenge.”

Probably not as easy as he was suggesting, but Saudia quite liked the work he and his team had managed to do. “I’ll speak to Commander Christiaens about implementing all of this. Well done.”

“And for one final showing,” he said, exiting that room and continuing downward. “I have, of course, sent my proposals for new building standards for all new ADVENT infrastructure to account for EMP attacks. If nothing else, I would hope the specifications on generators and critical systems be implemented.”

“That will be done,” Saudia promised as they walked into what she assumed was the Civilian infrastructure development area. McNeil led her into yet another room, this one with a large, rusted pipe in the center. On the end was a sleek metal ring, but other than that, it looked like a standard sewage pipe.

“One of the largest problems in infrastructure is it breaking down and corroding,” McNeil said. “Be if from rust, algae, or other manner of corruption. Impossible to fully fix, too expensive to replace, and the best that happens is occasionally it’s kept from getting worse, or maybe someone shells out the money for replacing it. Worst case no one does anything and it breaks, costing more money and time.”

He tapped the end of the pipe. “However, that may not need to be a concern any longer. With the significant amount of advances in nanotechnology, we wondered, ‘why not apply this to infrastructure?’. So we worked on a nanotech system that ensures our piping and buildings remains pristine.”

He picked up a small remote, as the ring on the edge of the pipe flashed yellow. “Stand back, Chancellor,” he warned. “The nanites _will_ consume anything other than the metal on the pipe. I don’t want you losing a hand. Watch.”

Saudia stayed well back as the ring flashed red, and she saw a congealed black-orange ring form, and began slowly, but noticeably, moving along the pipe. In the process, she saw, it consumed everything in its path. When it passed over a part of the pipe, all that was left was clean steel.

“The nanites operate on a whitelist program,” McNeil explained. “The metal of the pipe is what they are specifically directed _not_ to consume. Anything else is fair game. They are precisely programmed, and will only go a specified distance down to the nanometer, and then immediately return.”

“Can they replicate?”

“No,” he shook his head. “They only break down what they encounter. They also are programmed to self-destruct after a half hour if they don’t return to the housing ring. There are kill switches for each ring as well, and their instructions can’t be modified remotely. We’ve taken precautions, Chancellor. The greatest risk this will pose is an idiot sticking their hand on it during the cleaning procedure.”

“And ADVENT does not support the idiots,” Saudia muttered. “Not a concern. Again, your team has outdone themselves here. I want these in major cities. Once those test cases have proven successful, we can justify an expansion to the rest of ADVENT. I’ll see this gets done myself.”

“I’m pleased you approve, Chancellor,” he said, inclining his head. “We both want the continued improvement of our species. It’s refreshing to work for someone with the same goal.”

“Trust me,” Saudia said. “It’s far past time that became the priority of everyone, not just the few.”

“Under ADVENT,” McNeil noted. “You might just reach that goal.”

***

_ADVENT D.C. Research Center, Washington D.C. – United States of America_

_1/13/2017 – 4:11 P.M._

Saudia looked up from the outlining document for Project: Green Lantern. “Normally I wouldn’t be opposed to a project of this scale, but this seems different.”

Tygan cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Chancellor, I can assure we have taken all…necessary…precautions to ensure the safety of the personnel involved.”

“And if this succeeds,” Dr. Munju added. “We have a weapon that will kill not just the Battlemaster, but any other alien that we face.”

“There is already a significant amount of interest in Gamma rays in the scientific community,” Tygan said. “Tapping into such interest seemed a prudent move, and the results of this project will undoubtedly serve ADVENT beyond the development of a powerful weapon.” He did pause for a moment. “Each researcher knows what they are involved in. This is a Manhattan Project for the war, Chancellor, one which could legitimately affect the outcome.”

Saudia sighed. “There are a significant amount of projects on the scale of the Manhattan Project. I’ll ascribe that comparison when it actually happens. Keep Green Lantern running and I want every precaution taken. I don’t want them blowing themselves up accidentally.”

“I suspect these people know what they are doing,” Munju suggested dryly. “We don’t recruit the incompetent, Chancellor. You know that.”

“That is true,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “Speaking of which, I would know what else you have to update me on.”

“Thanks to XCOM, we have the means of producing plasma weapons,” Tygan said, consulting his tablet. “Dr. Mercado will have more on that for you. The science team, now that we have a more complete understanding of the nature of plasma, has begun more…extensive research. The respective team has been working closely with Dr. Mercado, especially in regards to the propulsion utilizations of plasma. I suspect you may know more about how that relates to the larger picture.”

For the fleet. Made sense, and she’d have to inquire as to how that was going when she spoke to Feng. “And you mentioned there was a breakthrough in regards to our energy output?”

“Indeed,” Tygan straightened his glasses. “Through the success of Project: Thursday, we believe that we have been able to turn Thorium into a nuclear fuel, almost bypassing the need for Uranium.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “And this means?”

“In practical terms,” Tygan said. “We can begin major development of Thorium reactors across ADVENT and, if not meet the energy requirements for the world, come significantly close. Thorium is far more plentiful than Uranium, Chancellor, and we control the largest deposits in the world. We can sever our dependence on previous generation energy production and move towards fully renewable.” He coughed. “In addition, with the Uranium need being significantly reduced for reactors, more will be freed up for…military applications.”

“I will also add that it would eliminate a military vulnerability,” Munju added. “Once the Collective realizes that targeting oil hurts us, they _will_ exploit it. While not invincible, transitioning to Thorium reactors will eliminate this particular weakness. The more we reduce our dependence on non-renewable energy, the better.”

“Agreed,” Saudia gave both men a nod. “Send this to the Department of Infrastructure. I’m sure McNeil will be overjoyed. Good work.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Tygan bowed his head. “If you would follow me, I believe there is something we can update you on.” She complied, and they walked through the narrow hallways of the lab, the pristine sanitary smell sticking out to her. The trio walked through another sliding door into a fairly small lab, but these had stacks of nutrient tubes along the leftmost wall.

Saudia stepped towards them, immediately seeing what was inside. “Are these…”

“Yes,” Tygan said, sounding slightly unhappy. He still hadn’t been on board with the project, but he’d nonetheless complied. “The first products of Project Seafoam. The first Human clones.”

They were little more than vaguely baby-shaped fetuses, but it was unmistakably a _Human_ fetus. A sense of finality of the situation settled around here. They were growing clones. It was set into motion. Necessary, but hopefully it would not have the consequences of a Pandora’s Box. It was one thing to write and justify the need for clones.

But seeing the fetuses before her lent a sense of reality to what she’d ordered. “How far along are they?”

“In normal pregnancy terms, close to four weeks,” Tygan said. “However the growth has been…significantly accelerated. This is one batch being grown, at six times the development of a normal Human. Within six weeks it will almost be ready to be born from a normal mother. Within six months it will be close to adult size.”

“We are currently experimenting with how fast this can be accomplished without negative side effects,” Munju added, stepping forward as he looked over the rows of growth tubes. “At minimum we are aiming for one year from the start of the cloning process to soldier. Preferably less, but we can’t accept too much more. So we have multiple batches going at once.”

“And the learning programs?” Saudia asked.

“Will begin to be implemented at various stages of brain development,” Tygan said slowly. “I must stress that this project is proceeding far too fast for my liking. We will not truly know how successful we are or not until the first clones awaken. The learning modules should work _in theory_ , but we again are experimenting with the best means of implementing them, either through chips connected to the brain, subconscious hypnosis, telepathy, Manchurian programming, you get the idea.”

“However,” Munju interrupted. “As far as growth speed, we should be able to determine that within several months. By then each batch will have been moved to an adult pod and we can determine if the speed had negative impacts.”

Tygan frowned. “We can _estimate_. We will not know until they awaken.”

“The important thing is that this has started,” Saudia said. “You’ve done good work, despite any reservations you have.”

“I will take some comfort in that,” Tygan said. “I trust they will not be abused, even if entire batches will inevitably be euthanized.”

“Unfortunate,” Munju grunted. “But that was always going to happen in this project.” He turned around, motioning her to a table behind the stacks of growth pods. “I do have some less heavy news to consider, Chancellor.”

She looked down at the table and saw another small model. One of a sleek design, open rooms with glass roofs, and within top of the line medical facilities, surgical pods, and the latest of all ADVENT designs. “I believe we have reached a point where we can formally begin opening civilian gene clinics,” Munju said. “And officially unveil the ADVENT Eugenics Division.”

Tygan grimaced. “I would caution using that word.”

“The public has become afraid of a word which has become tainted,” Munju sniffed. “Eugenics is certainly at its core not an evil word. It is the simple betterment of our species through genetic modification. You may not wish to call the cure of autism, hereditary diseases, and genetic mutations eugenics, doctor, but that is what it is.”

“Dr. Munju has a point,” Saudia nodded. “ADVENT is not the Third Reich or Imperial Japan. Our usage of eugenics will only be to remove the negative aspects of the Human genome while preserving the rest.”

“I don’t dispute your intentions,” Tygan clarified, still frowning. “But I do not see the reason to use that word where other, less offensive, terms would suffice.”

“Because it is the most accurate,” Munju snorted. “I suspect any public outcry will die down when people learn their children do not have to worry about diseases which have ravaged their families, or become afflicted by rolling badly on the genetic lottery. Mothers no longer need to worry about bringing children with mental disabilities into the world, or having that knowledge determine if they will keep or abort it. The perception on eugenics, Doctor, has been altered once before. It can be altered again.”

“As it stands now, the name will stay,” Saudia interrupted, not wanting to continue this debate. “So, the civilian Gene Clinics will be managed by the Eugenics Division. What of the military Clinics?”

“I was going to talk to Laura about that,” Munju said. “I suspect she will advocate for control over it herself, but she might let it be managed by Intelligence or Oversight to avoid the headache of it. At your approval, I can send it to Infrastructure to begin construction.”

“Consider it done,” Saudia nodded. “I’ll begin establishing the Eugenics Division in the meantime.”

“I sincerely hope you find an acceptable candidate,” Tygan said, grimacing. “This appointment should be handled with care.”

Saudia smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re at the top of the list. Think about it, doctor. You’ve earned a promotion.”

He blinked. “But my work here-“

“Will continue,” Saudia stated lightly. “Surely you don’t think that the Eugenics Division wouldn’t be heavily involved in cloning?”

He pursed his lips. “You make a good point, Chancellor. I will…consider…your kind offer. Although I would assume Dr. Munju is similarly deserving of a promotion.”

“You’re the geneticist, not me,” Munju gave a thin smile. “While the idea of conquering the Human genome is enticing, my skill set is more on exploring and researching the mysteries of the alien technology. As much as you hate to admit it, Project Seafoam is largely of your own hands. I’ve simply helped where needed.”

“Well, as I said, I will consider it,” Tygan repeated. “In the meantime, Chancellor, there is one final project I believe you will want to be appraised of.”

***

A few minutes later they were walking through a Gateway which connected to one of the ADVENT Mental Clinics. Specifically the one that housed many of the victims of Isomnum’s attack. Even now people were still trapped in mental prisons or completely broken psychologically. The terrible risks of fighting a psion made manifest.

The Mental Hospital was fairly bright with the white lights and walls, even if it was extremely cold, even compared to most hospitals. There were patients in rooms either unconscious, strapped as they suffered nightmares, or talking with psychiatrists. “I believe it was mentioned to you that there was a certain patient who recovered on his own,” Tygan said. “And there was a team wanting to study the phenomenon.”

“I remember,” Saudia nodded, furrowing her eyebrows as she glanced back. “Has something happened already?”

“Happened? I don’t believe so,” Munju interjected. “However, they _did_ develop a specific plan and project outcome. Ah, there is the Project Director herself.”

They stopped in front of a short Asian woman with short black hair pulled back in a ponytail. Upon them coming, she dismissed whoever the doctor was who was speaking to her, and turned to face them fully. She was astonishingly young, if Saudia didn’t know better, she would guess this woman was at most in her early thirties, possibly just graduated with her psychology degree.

“Chancellor,” Munju introduced. “Dr. Emily Shodon, Director of Project Phobos.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the young woman said with a smile. “I’m surprised you decided to personally come, but I’m pleased to see someone taking notice, even if it just started.”

Saudia motioned behind her. “I listen to my people, and they considered this important enough to share with me. However, I haven’t been appraised of what Project Phobos _is_.”

“Well,” Emily rubbed the back of her head. “There is quite a difference between what Project Phobos is _now_ and what I _want_ it to be. The project originally happened when one of the victims of Isomnum’s attack just…woke up.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Saudia recalled. “By himself.”

“That’s only part of it,” Emily clarified. “We’d given up on him. We tried psionic therapy three different times and none of them could stay for more than a few minutes. Each of them recommended we just put him out of his misery. How he woke up is close to a miracle, but that’s not what’s interesting.”

“What is then?” She asked as they rounded a corner.

“He has some kind of neurological reaction to psionics,” she said. “But what’s truly remarkable is that certain types of telepathy just don’t affect him anymore.”

Saudia blinked. “Explain?”

“He offered to help with the experiments,” Emily said. “Let them try and influence him. Repeat what Isomnum did to him. He said it couldn’t affect him any longer. Turns out he was right, I had to call in a Leviathan-class to get into his mind since it was so bad no one else wanted to try. He tried everything against him, illusions, mental pain, fear, none of it really worked. It admittedly almost sent him into cardiac arrest, but the man reported that even though he _could_ have taken control of his mind, it would have required effort and was…not pleasant.”

“I don’t suppose he explained how he was able to do that? Saudia asked.

“He tried,” Emily shrugged. “I personally don’t think he came out of it completely whole. His descriptions were…delirious and disjointed. He thought he had been condemned to Hell, and pretty much suffered until he learned to ignore the pain, overcome the fear, and fight back. He said he was fighting for years, until he killed three very specific aliens: The Warlock, the Battlemaster, and Isomnum. When he killed Isomnum, he said that was when he woke up.”

“Interesting,” Saudia mused. “Literal mental demons.”

“Needless to say he was not exactly pleased to wake up and learn that Isomnum was alive,” Emily gave a small smile. “I suspect his background shaped what he went through. He grew up in a fairly fundamentalist Christian family. Dante’s Inferno kind of Christian family. Big on instilling the fear of Hell into others. I don’t have his full records, but even if he eventually left it, it seems to have definitely made an impact on him.”

Saudia pursed her lips. “So this Kane is Subject Zero in your project. So with that out of the way, what _are_ you trying to achieve?”

“To create more of him,” Emily explained as they stepped into a small, quiet room. “The goal of Project Phobos is to turn Humans into soldiers who can’t be affected by telepaths like Isomnum. Ones immune to telepathically imposed fear and pain. Soldiers to kill Isomnum.”

Saudia gave a brief nod as she saw many of the people around the room. Some were clearly being affected by psions in lab coats; others were sleeping or talking with each other. “And how do you accomplish this?”

“We take it in phases,” Emily said. “Right now we’re in the stage of gathering what we need. Brain scans, interviews, neural analysis, patient observation. This needs to be done for each potential candidates. This is a volunteer-only program, and possibly one of the most intense within the entirety of ADVENT.”

“How?”

“We push them to their limits, psychologically,” Emily explained. “Candidates are exposed to our psions. Every fear, insecurity, and flaw is dredged up and magnified. They have to learn to overcome them. We’re doing to them what Isomnum did, although over a longer period. Whatever Kane thought he did, the process of defeating his fears was key to him waking up. If he can do it, others can as well.”

“And what happens if they lose their minds?” Saudia asked.

Emily sighed. “That is a risk. One which is acknowledged at the start. I want to stress that this is volunteer only, invitation only, and that they can walk away at any time. They won’t be taken back, but it’s understandable that someone wouldn’t want to participate in this. We’re being careful about who we invite. Obviously not everyone is suitable.”

“And who _are_ you inviting?” Saudia asked.

“Soldiers who’ve experienced and overcome severe mental difficulties, either with help or by themselves,” she explained. “This goes beyond victims of Isomnum. Soldiers suffering from PTSD, cancer survivors, people who’ve lost loved ones and remained intact, those kind of people. The ones who could theoretically not only survive worse, but grow stronger because of it. The goal of our mental clinics are, of course, to help cure any mental issues these individuals have…but afterwards, those willing can join Project Phobos.”

Saudia nodded. “An ambitious project. One I will be interested to see if it actually works.”

“I’ve got a good team working with me,” Emily said. “Psychologists, veterans, members of the PRIEST Division. I’m no psion, but the science is fascinating and helps me understand it better. We’ll get results for you, Chancellor, I can promise you that.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Saudia nodded. “And what stage of the project are you in now?”

“Gathering recruits,” Emily said, motioning around. “Some of them are starting preliminary testing. More to get a baseline of what our parameters should be for the next rounds. After a few we’ll begin in earnest.” Her face grew more serious. “There are going to be a lot of people who won’t make the cut, Chancellor, I’ll warn you now. We’re talking under a ten percent pass rate. You’re not going to get an army out of this.”

“I don’t need an army,” Saudia gave a grim smile. “But a small team to kill a certain Ethereal will be acceptable.”

“As long as I’m part of that reckoning.”

All of them stopped at the sound of a deep voice from the side. Saudia had known that the man before them was massive, but he was somehow taller than her, if only by an inch. Short black hair rested on the head of a man with eyes that seemed very close to black, and within them was a steel Saudia had only seen in truly hardened people, and sociopaths. It was the ruthless gaze that gave even hardened criminals pause.

The sheer size of the man punctuated the fact that this was someone dangerous. Saudia found it easier to imagine how even in the imaginary hell this man had been trapped in, he would eventually win. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt, pants and boots. His posture was straight, however, and he kept a respectful distance from the group, even if he wasn’t intimidated.

Saudia suspected that after being trapped in a prison from Isomnum, nothing would really scare him ever again.

“Kane,” Emily stepped forward. “I see you’re up. This is-“

“Chancellor Vyandar,” he said, still standing still. “I’m aware. I keep up with the outside world,” his lip curled up. “Including what the alien filth did to Seoul. Isomnum’s hand was in it, of that I am sure.”

“Perhaps,” Saudia said non-committally. “I would not be surprised. But he will be fought, and he will be punished.”

Kane smiled for the first time. “Yes he will. I killed him once before. I can do it again.”

Saudia raised an eyebrow. “Reality is not in your head.”

“The mind is where he is strong,” Kane responded, his smile remaining. “If he cannot defeat me in his own domain, how could he win in mine?”

Saudia was unsure how to respond to that. The man definitely seemed unstable, as Emily had suggested. She didn’t really want to provoke him, as his size and demeanor was slightly intimidating, even for her. But Kane looked to Emily. “What is left for me here? Do you need me for more tests?”

“Only a few,” she promised. “Then, if you wish, you can rejoin the military, provided you are cleared.”

“No,” he shook his head. “My place is not there. You know what I want.”

Saudia looked to Emily. “What _does_ he want?”

“To join XCOM,” she answered. “But like I said, it doesn’t work like that. Invitation only-”

Saudia lifted a hand, cutting her off. “ _Why_ XCOM, Kane?”

He looked to her with unblinking eyes. “XCOM fights Ethereals, and that is where I belong. There are more Ethereals to die at my hand than just the so-called _Dread Lord_.”

Saudia suspected he would likely get himself killed, but he certainly had spirit, and if he wasn’t useful to the Project, she was fine with XCOM having to deal with him. “I’ll send your name directly to the Commander. But he will decide to accept you or not.”

He nodded his head and saluted. “Thank you, Chancellor.” With that he walked away, leaving the four of them relatively alone again.

“He’s certainly an interesting character,” Saudia noted. “I wonder if the Commander will take him.”

“I hope he does,” Emily grimaced as they continued forward. “I definitely wouldn’t want to be the one to give him bad news.”

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Outpost, Brasília - Brazil_

_1/12/2017 – 10:28 A.M._

Jaylin felt rather out of her league as the team put together by the XCOM Intelligence agent finally assembled. She and Agent Gertrude had only spoken once, although it was for a fairly significant period of time, largely on the attack, which she had no trouble remembering. It ended with her being assigned to a new intel op dealing with these terrorists.

It wouldn’t be a bad change, since she’d felt rather useless recently since the attacks had largely stopped and the populations weren’t protesting anymore. Leon was in the same boat as her, although she was glad that she wouldn’t be going into this alone. Someone equally out of her league would be along with her.

She was better at keeping herself composed though.

Jaylin wasn’t quite sure what to make of this particular XCOM agent. She looked barely old enough to be a regular field agent, let alone one in charge of an operation like this. Jaylin was fairly sure she was the youngest one, aside from Leon, who was only twenty-three. But there was a clear air around the woman, a quiet authority that the agent didn’t feel the need to exercise yet.

The nondescript Caucasian woman was also almost certainly more dangerous than she looked. Jaylin had seen enough gene-modded soldiers to immediately spot the golden rim of MELD around the irises, and if her eyes were modded, then her body was also significantly altered as well. She didn’t really know _what_ else XCOM would have also added to increase her lethality.

Were they skilled enough to create cybernetic implants?

For that matter, was ADVENT Intelligence?

She honestly didn’t know much about ADVENT’s own intelligence counterpart, though obviously by design. All people really knew about ADVENT Intelligence was that you should do everything you can to not attract their attention. Their agents were always watching. Probably mostly propaganda, but Jaylin could easily believe that there were certain people and places under constant watch.

This Agent Andrade seemed like a straightforward man, even as he was talking with Agent Gertrude quietly at the end of the conference room. He didn’t strike Jaylin as the straight-laced intelligence type, always very serious. Which…she wondered if that was intentional. A good agent was one no one else knew about, after all.

“Think they’re going to get started?” Leon muttered beside her, fidgeting in his own military fatigues, which she wore as well. Not the kind of meeting to wear armor.

“Probably,” Jaylin answered as she saw Agent Gertrude shoot them a look, before looking around at the others assembled. “Be quiet.”

The woman finally took a stand at the end of the table, with Agent Andrade beside her. The rest of the assembled turned their attention to her as she pulled out a small remote and set it on the table. “Good morning to all of you, I’ve met with most of you at least once, and I’m sure you’ve spoken to Agent Andrade. As far as I’m concerned, there isn’t a major need for formality. You can call me either ‘Abby’ or ‘Agent’. Same with Silvio, or call him ‘Officer’ so there isn’t confusion. I am in charge of the overall operation, if you have questions relating to mission objectives, goals, and tactics you come to me. If you have questions about your specific task that will be assigned, you speak to Silvio.”

She motioned to the left, where Jaylin and Leon were seated. “These two are soldiers who’ve encountered the terrorists that attacked the bases, and eyewitnesses to what happened. Specifically, they know better than everyone here what we’re going to be up against. Jaylin Tanika and Leon Mina, Peacekeeper Riot Control. They’ve been temporarily assigned to this operation.”

Both of them either raised a hand or nodded in acknowledgement of the introduction. No one asked if it was right two fairly low-ranked soldiers were in this kind of sensitive operation, which Jaylin did appreciate. “Serena Campos,” Abby nodded to a well-dressed Hispanic woman, wearing professional business attire. “ADVENT Diplomatic Corps. She’ll be needed for reasons that will be explained shortly.”

Jaylin already suspected where this was going. Abby was definitely planning to investigate Argentina, and getting a diplomat for this operation was a smart way to go about doing it. “August Wepper,” Abby continued, indicating the Caucasian man sitting beside Leon. “ADVENT Qalandar. For those who don’t know, a researcher of psionics. Specifically specializing in telepathic tampering of subjects.”

Jaylin was less sure about what he was here for. To figure out if they’ve been infiltrated? To test out psionic theories? She’d admittedly never heard of anything called a Qalandar, but she would look that up later. “Kil Ae-Ri,” Abby said, as a Korean woman in the fatigues of the PRIEST Division nodded. “Protopriest. Telepath focus. She’s not the only one on call from the Military branch, but she will help us defend against any psionic attacks.”

So for the combat operations that were inevitable. Good planning. The final man in the room was dressed in simple black clothing, the only indication of…anything, was the small embroidered silvery spider on the upper right chest. Hispanic as well, so possibly a local. He was likely an Intelligence agent as well, now that she thought about it.

“Marco Tasis,” Abby finished. “Inquisitor of ADVENT Intelligence. Their psions.”

Oh. Well, it made sense they would have their own psions, but she was surprised she’d never once heard about this. “This is a good time to remind everyone that this entire operation is classified,” Silvio added. “Anything you learn or hear of as the result of it will _not_ be relayed to any unauthorized party. I trust this is clear?”

They all nodded. Both lead agents exchanged a nod. “Based on what we’ve learned,” Abby said. “We are confident in saying that the perpetrator of these attacks was an Ethereal by the name of Nebulan.” The holographic display in the center of the table flashed to light, showing an Ethereal outline with a question mark in the darkened body. “A master illusionist, who likes using aliases and covering her tracks as much as possible. The Ethereal Aegis has provided us with an extensive breakdown of her personality and methods, however, which is now being shared with you.”

“If it’s an Ethereal,” Protopriest Kil asked slowly. “Why has she been quiet aside from the first attack?”

“Unknown,” Abby shook her head. “Perhaps she struck too early and wanted to spend time developing her defenses or location. Possibly hoping we’d forget about the attack. I suspect the reason ADVENT hasn’t pursued this until now is because Nebulan affected the leaders involved, making this incident a lesser priority.”

Jaylin blinked. “She can do that?”

Abby pursed her lips grimly. “I’m afraid so. Which is why Dr. Wepper is here. If Nebulan _has_ been affecting ADVENT personnel, he will help uncover it. That is only one part of the investigation though.”

“What about the Humans that attacked?” Leon asked. “Are they controlled by her?”

“There are several possibilities,” Abby answered. “In theory, she could. But based on her personality, it is equally likely that she is working with, and using them for some unknown goal. Alternatively, these are Humans who have been recruited into the Phantom Division, Nebulan’s own personal army.”

“What do we know about them?” Kil asked.

“That they’re among the most advanced soldiers in the Ethereal Collective,” Abby said. “Extensive genetic modification, all highly intelligent, specialize in recon, sabotage, and assassination, using equipment more advanced than alien standard. If they’re involved, and they almost certainly are, then we’ll eventually need to bring Lancer and PRIEST support. The Phantom Division are elites of the Collective. We won’t take chances with them.”

“And the Ethereal is still the most dangerous,” Marco said with some amusement. “Such an interesting species.”

“By far,” Silvio agreed. “The danger of the Phantom Division is slightly blunted by our own psionic capabilities, if not offset more by their technological advantage. However, Ethereals are known to eclipse our own psions if handled improperly.”

“So what is the plan?” Jaylin finally asked.

“Twofold,” Abby said. “Determine if ADVENT personnel were affected, and locate the main base of operations for Nebulan. We suspect that she may be in Argentina, so in a friendly gesture to our neighbors, we will be paying a diplomatic visit to warn them about these terrorists, and determine if they know anything more.”

“I will warn you that they likely won’t allow anyone besides me inside,” Serena pointed out. “There are nations which are paranoid about psions affecting their minds. Argentina is definitely one of them. While I am good at reading people, if they are actually involved in anything, they will be good at hiding it.”

“Have no fear, Diplomat,” Marco said smoothly. “We’re good at getting what we want, and especially enjoy exploiting those who have no idea how psionics work.”

The distrust Jaylin knew some had for psionics seemed rather prudent now. In this case it was justified, but she could see why ADVENT _might_ not want to make it public knowledge that their spies had psions who had no qualms about reading the minds of targets who may or may not be innocent.

“Right now I want everyone to review the compiled information on what we’re likely facing,” Abby said, shutting down the hologram. “More detailed directions for each of you will be sent by the end of the day. Dismissed.”

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Outpost – Colorado_

_1/16/2017 – 12:02 P.M._

Saudia furrowed her eyebrows. “You mean you _did_ send Inquisitors?”

“Just a few, who promptly vanished, and then I stopped,” Elizabeth didn’t sound perturbed, but Saudia knew she was concerned. She wouldn’t have pulled back observation of the SAS unless she felt otherwise. “I don’t _know_ if they’re dead, and the SAS hasn’t released anything indicating there was an attempted infiltration…which I’m positive they would do. Proof of ADVENT ‘trying to assassinate the hero Betos’.”

Saudia agreed. If the SAS _was_ behind the surprisingly effective counter ops, Betos would have definitely exploited it. But they’d been quiet. “So _do_ you have an explanation?”

“Only one feasible one,” she admitted, leaning against the wall. “There is only one party that stands to gain from this idiotic situation.”

“The Collective.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” she punctuated. “And there is now an entire regional faction against us. A potential opportunity. They’d obviously want to keep their presence as quiet as possible, so covertly ensuring the SAS isn’t compromised keeps us in the dark, and they can use that as proof saying “See, we can help you.””

Saudia considered that. The possibility had crossed her mind before, although there was always some reservation. “Betos is an idealist. The aliens are no better than ADVENT, and in fact, much worse, as the recent Seoul attack proves.”

Elizabeth made a disgusted face and similarly disgusted noise. “You’ve read her dossier, right? It would be stupidly easy to convince that idiot woman that anything bad about the aliens is propaganda perpetuated by us, and the aliens are the good guys in all of this. The aliens couldn’t ask for a better puppet.”

“Good point,” Saudia muttered, rubbing her forehead as she sat down. “So. What is your plan?”

“I guess I’ll start there,” Elizabeth sat down beside her and moved the tablet over. “Now, I don’t want you calling this a crazy idea. I’m not going to use agents again, not until we know what’s going on. With that said, I _am_ going to field test one of the projects I’ve been running.” She shrugged. “I’d intended to use them on the West Coast, but infiltrating the SAS is just as a valid target.”

“Infiltrating them with what?”

“The African Pied Crow,” Elizabeth tapped the screen, which indeed showed one of the birds on a blueprint with several additional components. “Corvids, if you want to be accurate. Birds like ravens or crows.”

“Really,” Saudia was not immediately convinced. “Ravens. I didn’t know they could give reports on what they see.”

“Ha, ha,” Elizabeth said sarcastically. “You sound just like the Officer I shared this with initially. ‘Elizabeth, you can’t use Ravens as spies, that doesn’t make sense’.” Saudia snorted at her impersonation. “He shut up once he saw I’d had one of the early specimens of Project Kutkh follow him for the entire day. Got some good footage from it.”

“Footage?” Saudia looked back down at the document.

“Obviously,” Elizabeth said. “Fabrication made little cameras which fit over their heads. Almost invisible unless you’re looking for them. Lightweight, HD, the works. Anything the corvid sees, we will see. Eventually I want to have the eyes themselves replaced by cameras, and have everything stored on an implanted hard drive, but we haven’t gotten there yet.”

“I see,” this made more sense. “That…is reasonable.”

“That’s only part of it,” Elizabeth continued, flipping through the various pages. “Cameras are useless unless they’re pointed at something we’re interested in. The good news is that corvids are very smart. Not that most people know, but for birds they’re great. Their memories and facial recognition skills are what we use here. We’ve got them to the point where we show them a picture of an individual, and if we release them into a place they know the target inhabits, they’ll track them down.”

“And how much video can these cameras hold?” Saudia asked.

“Four hours, we’ll get it larger later,” Elizabeth said. “Obviously, not a lot of time for what will be likely hours of hunting and observation. Which is why the cameras are sound-locked. The corvid makes the sound, the camera turns on. They lose sight of the person, they do it again to turn it off. If they locate the target, after listening and then losing the target, they return to the nearest outpost where we take the data.”

“I suspect the aliens will not expect spies in the forms of birds,” Saudia said. “Clever.”

“I agree,” Elizabeth said. “The good news is that corvids are everywhere on Earth. So they won’t seem out of place, and our only problem is if they’re attacked by wildlife or otherwise killed, and their bodies found later.”

“Well, I want to know how well this goes,” Saudia said. “If it works out, we have potentially perfect infiltrators. I don’t suppose you’ve considered psionics?”

“Telepathy? Yes,” Elizabeth waved a hand. “Although from what my telepaths have said, it isn’t really clear or easy to navigate their brains, and unless it’s necessary, I want my psions actually doing something essential. We can explore telepathic memory extraction later. For now, the technology appears to serve fine.”

“Good,” Saudia pushed the tablet back to Elizabeth. “Aside from that, there is the larger issue of the aliens themselves. Their cyber capabilities are better than ours, especially if they begin using the Andromedons.”

“If they haven’t penetrated us already,” Elizabeth pointed out. “I doubt it, and we have purging protocols in the event of a breach, but definitely not something I want to rely on. Which is why we’re still having our cyber divisions focus on some breakthrough in quantum computing. In theory, if we develop quantum computers, we will be able to resist any kind of cyber attack from the Collective.”

“Does the Collective also use it?” Saudia asked. “I’d think they would have developed it before us.”

“Not exactly,” Elizabeth said. “At least, I don’t think so. Their internal networks are managed by the CODEX system. Which, while it does seem to have a quantum foundation, is more akin to a machine intelligence. The Andromedons certainly do though, or at least several of the major unions. I suppose we should be thankful they don’t usually share their secrets with the Collective.”

“Alternatively,” Elizabeth rested her chin on a fist. “Project Ra completes.”

The ADVENT AI project. Saudia nodded. “And the status of it?”

“Beginning stages at best,” Elizabeth shook her head. “There won’t be major progress for some time. I’m letting select Chinese AI scientists work on modules, though those won’t be used in the final AI. We have a firm base thanks to the Chinese, but no one has ever gone this far before. But if we _do_ develop an AI, it should be more than capable of resisting Collective cyberattacks.”

Saudia thought for a minute. “Have you contacted XCOM?”

“They’ve insinuated they’re working towards something similar, but weren’t any closer,” she answered. “Ethereals don’t like AIs. They consider them dangerous, which means we’ll _definitely_ have an advantage if we complete it. But Aegis was sadly unhelpful.”

“And I assume you’re taking the precautions so we don’t end up having to deal with a rampant AI?” Saudia asked rhetorically.

“Damn it,” Elizabeth answered sarcastically. “I _knew_ I forgot something.” Both women broke into a smile at that. “Yes, Chancellor,” she said, more serious this time. “We’re taking every precaution possible. Just like with nanotech, we’re not going to make something we can’t control in some way.”

“Let’s hope so,” Saudia raised an eyebrow. “I’d really hate to deal with an AI after the Collective is gone.”

“Everyone would, Chancellor. Don’t worry, that isn’t going to happen.”

***

_AEGIS Diplomatic Command – Switzerland_

_1/17/2017 – 10:35 A.M._

While it had not exactly been the easiest of beginnings, Saudia was pleased that the AEGIS Division was still on track to properly be unveiled fairly soon. The hardest part had not been finding the personnel and facilities (Which would be relatively few at the beginning), but ensuring that their new extraterrestrial residents were as sincere as they said they were.

For the most part, the defectors appeared to have been telling the truth. The reasons varied, but what was important was that they were motivated to stand against the Collective. Saudia and Elizabeth had suspected that the defectors who had done so because of more…selfish reasons, such as fear or because other were doing it, had their own decisions validated and reinforced by more logical reasons.

It had essentially been taking the defectors who’d had legitimate reasons to finally abandon the Collective, put them in the same room, and by the end, the entire room would be fairly angry or at minimum irritated against the Collective.

The best part was that there was no need to lie. Simply exposing the Aui’Vitakar for the puppet state it was often convinced most, and sharing the abuses of the Collective, such as their Blacksites, the truth of the Muton situation, the experiments of the Sectoids…all damning evidence. As much as the Seoul Massacre had turned public opinion against aliens briefly, it had been yet another mark against the Collective which had horrified the aliens.

For the particularly unsure groups, she’d simply asked XCOM to send Aegis to speak with them. Being graced by the presence of an actual _Ethereal_ would likely be remembered as one of the most important days of their lives. If you couldn’t trust an Ethereal who said what he had helped established was too far gone, then who could you trust?

There had been, of course, several aliens who had used the defections as an attempt to infiltrate.

It had gone _badly_ for them.

The Inquisitors were thorough, and within days had weeded out the illegitimate defectors from the real ones. Most of them didn’t have much actionable intelligence, but there was always a need for live aliens in the Experimentation Labs. They would serve some purpose, at least. Saudia was aware that there were at least a few illegitimates that ADVENT Intelligence were using to monitor and control their access to the Collective, however that was established. With psionics, it wasn’t especially difficult to turn them into unwitting double agents.

Today, though, would be the first true step for the AEGIS Division. It was more than just responsible for ensuring aliens integrated into ADVENT, but would also manage diplomatic ties with all alien factions. Saudia was aware that Chief Ambassador Kamar Dennis had some ideas for addressing the Collective directly, and they might very well be discussed today.

The room they were meeting in was small, but well-furnished. A circular table with a holoprojector in the center, red carpet, adjustable ambient lighting to relax all occupants, and some visual additions, such as the ADVENT banner hanging in the center. The chairs were equally spaced apart, angled so Saudia would be in front of the banner. A bit of a dramatic touch, but she didn’t especially mind.

To her rightmost position was Kamar Dennis, veteran diplomat and her top pick for the position. He had been interested in the aliens long before this, and his previous experience as a diplomat to less-traveled locations in the world, who often didn’t speak the same languages or have similar cultures made him an ideal fit for a position dealing with alien life.

As such he was noticeably older than her, with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, his skin almost identical in color to her own, and in the fairly plain attire planned for the AEGIS Division. A nameplate, with the position beneath it on the upper right chest. The symbols of ADVENT and AEGIS were on opposing shoulders. Like most ADVENT attire, the uniform was black with muted red highlights.

And to her leftmost position was Runi’sirasis’vitianis, a former officer of the Runianarch. Within all the defectors that had been gathered, there were always at least one who seemed to have a measure of command or spoke for the group. Sirasis had been selected by the defectors to speak for them, although there was the knowledge in the back of all their minds that none of them had any diplomatic experience.

They were all soldiers, and would be making decisions that may very well have significant ramifications in the future. A daunting responsibility, but the good news was that ADVENT would be more than happy to assist in their efforts. Sirasis was a Vitakarian, a good move in Saudia’s opinion. Of all the races their similarities with Humans would help with how the rest of Humanity perceived aliens.

The alien did admittedly look like a very well-muscled soldier, but her face and voice clearly indicated her gender. Vitakarian voices did have a generally soothing effect on Humans, from some brief studies they’d done. A good advantage for the speaker of a people. She was tall though, even when sitting down.

“Chancellor,” Sirasis greeted as she sat down. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Representative,” she answered. “This is an important day, for both our species.”

“Yes,” the alien shifted in her seat. “Although I would not call myself an representative, Chancellor. Just a soldier placed into a…delicate situation.”

“Nonsense,” Kamar interjected, shaking his head. “From personal experience not being a trained diplomat lets you cut through the meaningless drivel that plagues talks like this. You want results, correct? So do we. ADVENT respects directness, Representative Sirasis, we do not offend easily.”

“From what I’ve experienced, your people are…reasonable,” Sirasis nodded. “And I can say we have been treated well. Or at least protected from the more xenophobic of your species.”

“An unfortunate reality,” Saudia said. “It will take some time to fully change perceptions towards you species, which is what AEGIS intends to accomplish.”

“In addition to integrating us into your society,” Sirasis said, pursing her lips. “I don’t know how best to say this, Chancellor, but while we appreciate ADVENT taking us in…there are those of us who would prefer to return to our own government. Whatever one may be left, by the end of the war, of course.”

Saudia nodded. “Of course. In fact, that was something we need to discuss. We don’t have an intention of forcing you to join ADVENT, though we will of course assist with integration for those who want it.”

Sirasis looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“In the meantime,” Kamar said, pulling out a file. “I’ve spoken with Chancellor Vyandar, as well as a few members of the Congress of Nations, and we all believe that it might be a good idea to get a head start on the business of…let us say the _reformed_ government of your species. I think we can both agree we not leave the finer details till the day Vitakar is liberated.”

The glowing eyes of the woman flashed as she blinked. “What are you suggesting, Ambassador?”

“That the new government of the Vitakara be established now,” he answered brightly. “Staffed and managed by yourself and a chosen body of course. As a fully legitimate and recognized government by ADVENT, you would have a diplomatic embassy in our capital, and for all intents and purposes, be a fully functioning alien power. Allied, of course, with ADVENT.”

“There are advantages to doing this,” Saudia added. “The first is that your species is fully prepared to reestablish itself when Vitakar is retaken, or another capital planet should you so choose. In addition, it will further legitimize your position within us. Right now it is easy to paint yourself and your people as mere defectors and traitors. An established and functioning government will negate that to an extent. You would not be a band of defectors, but a Vitakarian government in opposition to the Ethereal Collective. One not controlled by the Ethereals, but maintained – completely – by yourselves.”

“I…” she seemed at a loss for words. “Over what? We don’t have anything. We’re on _your_ planet, and there definitely won’t be support for us on the colonies now.”

Saudia and Kamar exchanged a look. “If we go to this trouble of establishing a new Vitakarian government,” Saudia said. “ADVENT will allocate enough territory for your people to live that will be considered sovereign ground of your people.”

“And not necessarily limited to an area the size of a city,” Kamar said, pulling out a file. “It would scale depending on how large it grew, with a maximum cap of course, up to the size of a small country. Potential plots would be large areas in Canada, Russia, Afghanistan, and the Midwest of the United States. Parts of it may need to be developed, but you will have enough room for the needs of your people.”

“That is…generous,” she said, still sounding stunned. “Until Earth is fully reclaimed and the attacks on Collective territory start, yes?”

“If your people choose so, it can be,” Saudia said. “But ADVENT will not retake the land we give to you. Your people could maintain a location on our planet as long as you wish. It would be made to work.”

“I see a problem…” she said. “Not a single one of us actually knows anything about running a government, let alone _establishing_ it.”

“Which is why you’ll have help,” Kamar said. “ADVENT will be happy to provide input and advice if needed. In a strictly advisory manner, of course. We would not want to build your government for you. In a case like this, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing if you are unfamiliar with how to establish a government. You have a perspective and experience most in your position don’t have. I presume that you don’t consider the Aui’Vitakar perfect?”

She snorted. “No. But I can’t claim to have thought about them much.”

“But I suspect there are others who know a bit about it,” Saudia noted. “The good, the bad, what to keep and what to discard. This, Representative, is your opportunity to make something _better_ than the Aui’Vitakar.”

“More importantly, Representative,” Kamar added. “It is what it will represent. This will show to every Vitakara on Earth, and in the system, that there _is_ another path. There _is_ another choice they can make. The Vitakara no longer have to live under the Collective in fear simply because there is no choice. Now there _will_ be, and what your people build will be the future of your species.”

The Vitakarian visibly swallowed. “A lot of responsibility.”

“Indeed,” Saudia nodded. “Believe me, I am aware. Uniting an entire species is no easy task, but it _is_ worthwhile. I believe you can handle the responsibility, and your people can as well. And as we said, we are certainly available to help.”

“So…” Sirasis trailed off, deep in thought before she said anything. “I would need to discuss all of this with everyone. Hammer out something preliminary. See what they think.”

“Of course,” Saudia nodded. “Take as much time as you need. We will not be going anywhere.”

“We won’t delay,” she promised. “Thank you, Chancellor. This is more than I expected.”

Saudia gave her a smile. “We are not the Collective. I believe that in the future ADVENT can certainly work with aliens, and even be their allies. This would mark an excellent first step in that goal, one I certainly hope your people will consider.”

“We will,” Sirasis promised. “You have my word on that.”

***

_Center of ADVENT Research and Development – Russia_

_1/26/2017 – 1:09 P.M._

“Thanks to XCOM,” Feng Mercado was saying. “We now have a far more complete understanding of elerium. Enough to fully solve the energy issue we had previously run into with the initial Dropship design.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “As you can see, the results speak for themselves.”

That they did. The design of the dropship was largely unchanged, but now there was a much lower, yet persistent hum which emanated from the dropship as the air was distorted under the anti-gravity emitters keeping the dropship up. “Quiet, fast, and with an integrated PDS field so they won’t be shot down. The optimal solution for deploying large squads of soldiers.”

“Yes,” Saudia agreed. “Are these combat-ready?”

Feng scratched his chin. “They’ve passed our battery of tests. They’re as close as we can get without a real field test. However, I wouldn’t expect a large number of them soon. They’re complicated to make, and pilots, maintenance staff, and mechanics need to learn how to pilot and repair them. That takes time. I would estimate we can use them in sufficient numbers in about…” he paused. “Two to three months, depending on how badly Commander Christiaens wants them.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Laura said, also looking at the dropship thoughtfully. “Consult with Command. But this will be utilized, good work.”

“Excellent, come with me,” Feng said, turning on his heel and leading them out of the hangar into a much narrower hallway. Eventually they stepped into an area which Saudia could clearly see had been used as a design room. The main rectangular table was clean, with a holoprojector, but the walls were treated to be used like whiteboards, and there was a large amount of scribbled notes, formulas, and other commentary (along with some rudimentary designs of whatever they were designing) written in English, Russian, and Japanese.

“We have, of course, been hard at work on other projects which have yet to materialize,” Feng said, turning on the holoprojector. “Three of which I want to get your opinions on.” The holodisplay turned on, showing what looked to be a large, thin, wing-like aircraft with a significant amount of weaponry on the underside. Looking at it from the side, it was definitely thicker around the center of the aircraft, though not by much, and the center looked like a small launchpad itself.

“The Thunderbird, as we’re calling it,” Feng said. “Our answer to establishing air superiority on any planet, not just Earth. As of now the armaments are…not fully decided, as there are several paths we can still take. But the Thunderbird itself would be capable of bombarding enemy positions, engaging enemy aircraft, and launching multiple missile types.”

“That seems like a decent arsenal to me,” Saudia noted. “What’s missing?”

“This is I believe a perfect opportunity to explore drone swarm technology,” Feng pointed to the center of the aircraft. “Right now there is room for a small fleet of next generation drones. However, the issue is the coordination of all of these drones at once. A machine intelligence is best suited to handling the sheer amount of computation necessary, but I’m unsure if that would be an acceptable addition.”

“Something equivalent to what the Chinese did?” Laura asked. “I don’t see an issue with that.”

“The issue is that we’re not sure it would be enough,” Feng crossed his arms. “For best results, I would almost recommend an AI. Perhaps merging it with Project Ra?”

“I’ll consider it,” Saudia said. “Would this be automated?”

“It will have that capability,” Feng answered. “I feel it will be necessary, even if it _will_ be able to be piloted manually. But there likely will be a very small crew. Despite the size of the Thunderbird, it is intended to never actually have to land.” He highlighted parts of the schematics. “There will be nuclear reactors powering it, and those will be able to be replenished manually or with drones.”

“How large is this thing going to be?” Laura asked slowly, looking at the hologram.

“These are, as one of the designers said, the air equivalent of the United States aircraft carriers,” Feng said. “A fortress in the sky. A flying flak tower of sorts if you wish to make that comparison. It will be… _large_.”

“And where is that going to be constructed?” Saudia frowned. “And with the size…it _will_ attract attention.”

“That is an _excellent_ point,” Feng grinned. “The aliens would definitely take notice of a large construction zone. They might, at first, even think it’s a spacecraft. They will investigate and discover, much to their relief, that it’s likely a mere stepping stone to spaceflight. Dangerous, perhaps, but nothing that will set up alarms.”

Saudia’s lips curled up. “A diversion. I like it.”

“We keep the _actual_ fleet secret, and build an air fortress at the same time,” Feng nodded happily. “The aliens keep watching these facilities, because _obviously_ the fleet will eventually be built from them.”

“That will probably buy us several months at least,” Laura nodded slowly. “Especially if we include interceptable correspondences discussing the potential of the Thunderbird for future spacecraft designs. I’ll speak with Elizabeth about this.”

“Paradoxically,” Feng said. “These will be fairly exposed, security wise, but an intentional sabotage to keep the fleet secret. Something real will be built, but it will ultimately be a smokescreen.”

“I like it,” Saudia nodded, referring more to the misdirection it would cause. The Thunderbird…she would have to wait and see how well it could actually work. “What is next?”

“The completion of Project Pluto,” Feng continued, changing the hologram to show what appeared to be a large missile, with smaller missiles attached near the engine along the sides. “A US government project exploring the possibility of a nuclear-powered missile delivery system. It was abandoned, despite the fact the it seemed to work, for being potentially ‘too provocative’ towards the Soviet Union. Fortunately, we have no such concerns.”

“And what makes this different?” Laura asked. “I’ve heard of this project before. It’s a...very old one.”

“In theory,” Feng answered. “The nuclear power allows it to remain airborne potentially for months, flying at supersonic speeds around the world. It essentially allows us a missile deployment system that flies under the radar, that we can launch at any point, and they deploy at any point, at any place in the world. It would have a limited missile capacity, but this is a primitive defense network for our planet.”

“Not bad,” Laura said in approval. “The Collective would certainly find that disconcerting.”

“Tests are still ongoing,” Feng said. “However, I know it can be done within the month. As long as ADVENT Command agrees, these can be deployed the day they’re completed.”

“I’ll ensure everything is in place,” Laura said. “And you also have something else?”

“Yes,” Feng once more changed the hologram. “This is more of a…lower tech idea, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. This project was specifically designed to be invisible to Collective sensors and used for surprise night bombing runs. Project Night Witch.”

The hologram changed to show what looked like a small glider plane, with a small bomb arsenal strapped to it. It looked small, and fairly simplistic, which she suspected was the point. “The name certainly implies what this does,” Laura said, a smile on her face. “It’s good that the contributions of the Night Witches continue to be remembered.”

“Indeed,” Feng agreed. “Powered gliders. Invisible to most radars, painted black to reduce visibility, capable of gliding over their targets silently and leaving with the enemy none the wiser.” He highlighted some parts of the glider. “Now, the armaments are obviously enhanced. Gas weapons, ClF3 bombs, cluster bombs. The intent is to cause damage, yes, but also psychologically affect the aliens. An invisible enemy is indeed a terrifying one.

“These don’t have covered cockpits,” Saudia noted, pointing to the hologram. “Is that safe?”

“With modern technology, yes,” Feng confirmed, switching the hologram to a pilot encased in a cold weather suit with an oxygen supply. “The pilots will be perfectly safe, since they will be insulated and have plenty of oxygen supplied for the less than ideal conditions in the air.”

“I assume you’ve built these then?” Laura asked.

“Yes, and tests have been extremely successful,” Feng waved a hand once dismissively. “A trivial design, laughably easy compared to most of what we do. We’ve been running tests for months, and we have enough data to conclusively show the benefits, and more importantly, that it works. I intended for these to be used on the West Coast, or the operations that are no doubt happening in Canada.”

Laura and Saudia exchanged a look. She definitely had the same thought Saudia had. The Night Witch fleet would definitely be useful for Long Dark. Laura cleared her throat. “I believe there would be some use for them. I want enough of them to be produced immediately for combat operations.”

“Give me numbers, and we’ll produce them,” Feng confirmed. “More questions?”

“Not on this,” Saudia answered. “But I do know you have more to show.”

“Yes, several more projects which can be demonstrated,” Feng said, as he led them out of the room. They walked for several minutes until they entered what Saudia remembered as a testing area which had several projects in various stages of being put through various tests and demonstrations. “We’re still working on incorporating the Andromedon Barrier technology into something usable,” Feng said, motioning to the left where there was a team of engineers with automated weapons shooting at a projected red barrier. “However, that project is proceeding well.”

“What about that one?” Laura pointed to a more intricate testing ground which, as far as Saudia could see, involved drones and mirrors.

“Project Daedalus,” Feng said as they kept walking past. “A project in the early stages; using mirrors to direct lasers onto specific targets from safe distances. Useful primarily as a defensive system, especially for our cities.” He gave a short shrug. “However, as I said, it’s in the early stages.”

They eventually made it to a weapons range, which had an array of what looked like conventional weapons on a table, with Chief of Fabrication Ofelia before them. “Chancellor, Commander” she greeted Saudia and Laura respectively. “I suppose you are here for a demonstration of what we’ve been working on in the weapons department.”

“If you want to start there, certainly,” Saudia motioned to continue.

Ofelia grunted. “Well. Thanks to XCOM we have the capability to develop plasma weapons. However, they are relatively complex and expensive resource-wise, so they will not be mass-produced for some time.”

“Our current weapons will suffice then,” Laura nodded. “Plasma weapons can be reserved for Officers and special forces.”

“In the meantime,” Ofelia picked up one of the previous-generation rifles, although looking at this closer, Saudia could see that it seemed to be slightly sleeker than a previous assault rifle would have looked. “We’ve been researching a concept known as electrothermal-chemical technology. ETC for short. Likely the next step of weapons development had we not diversified and produced gauss, laser, and plasma weapons.”

Saudia frowned. “I suppose the obvious question is why you’re researching an obsolete concept?”

“Not obsolete,” Ofelia disputed. “Each weapon type as advantages and drawbacks. The closest comparison is gauss rifles, which, while they _are_ more powerful than ETC weapons individually, they cannot match the volume of fire and capacity that ETC weapons are capable of. We know that an M2 Browning is more powerful than a gauss autorifle, correct? But we would not be able to produce a gauss equivalent because the technology can’t work for a weapon with that much output.” She patted the rifle. “With ETC tech, you can.”

“And what does that mean?” Laura asked. “Clearly, mind you.”

“In short,” Ophelia said. “ETC weapons utilize plasma and electricity to ignite and control the propellant in firearms. This results in much greater power, accuracy, and relatively cheap for the damage it outputs. Specifically, it only requires a few changed components in previous generation weapon schematics to turn them into ETC-capable variants.”

She turned towards the range and aimed at an alloy-outlined dummy target, and fired. It sounded very similar to a previous generation gun, enough that Saudia couldn’t really tell the difference. With that said, the dummy with multiple holes in it definitely made the point. Conventional weapons of that size would have been lucky to even dent alien alloys.

“Aside from being easy and cheap to mass produce,” Ofelia continued, turning back to them. “There is another advantage. These are almost completely EMP resistant. Assuming one is not firing when a pulse hits, it will still work. So here you go, Chancellor, an easy way to outfit the various militias, upgrade all our conventional stuff, and something good to arm our allies with. I’d think even our own soldiers would want this.” She set the rifle down. “They want stopping power and raw damage per shot? Gauss is the way to go. If they want to just lay down fire as quickly as possible? ETC guns are for them.” She patted the rifle. “What do you think?”

“Useful,” was the first thing that came to mind. “I’d prefer we see how they do against aliens, but it is a good way to ensure the militias are properly armed, and that we have reliable weapons if ever faced with an EMP weapon. If they can be quickly produced, all the better. Anything to add, Commander?”

Laura nodded to Ofelia. “I’ll be coordinating with ADVENT Command. We’ll have production numbers shortly. Send over everything you’ve gathered on them.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“China will also be interested in these,” Saudia mused. “It can only improve our standing with them.”

“Can’t wait to see what cheap knock off they come up with from our work,” Ofelia muttered. “But good for them.”

“Excellent work, to both of you,” Saudia said to Ofelia and Feng. “Any other notes you want to make?”

“Nothing of import yet,” Feng shook his head. “Refining of the Order of Terra schematics is proceeding well, as is the Celestial Project. We’ll have updates for you shortly.”

“Keep me informed then,” she said. “But today you’ve made a lot of people happy.”

* * *

 

Supplementary Material

Chronicles of Salvation:

- [Medtrum - The Inward Mandate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889638/chapters/37028529#workskin)


	41. Cracked Foundations

 

_Unknown_

_1/12/2017 - ???_

There were a number of things that he could be doing now, but instead he was taking a break and spending some time with their new Sovereign ally. Although that wasn’t quite accurate. After their previous talk, everyone had said he’d only been occupied for a few minutes when the Commander’s own perception of time had been much longer.

Time didn’t work the same when talking to T’Leth, so some time could be dedicated to getting to know him. Or at least as well as one _could_ get to know the personality of a being older than their entire species several times over. Vahlen was with him too as well, which she had jokingly referred to as a ‘date’, and he didn’t know if it was funny or sad that this was the closest they would probably get to having a date until the end of the war.

As it turned out, T’Leth seemed fairly open to it, at least according to the Chronicler. He suspected that idle conversation was not something the Sovereign One enjoyed.

It did appear that T’Leth was interested in showing them something specific as the moment they touched the Sovereign Orb, both of them found themselves in a place that definitely was not Earth, nor the abyss the Commander had found himself inside the first time. It was as if they were within a valley with metal walls on either side, and above it showed the vastness of space tinged with purple mist.

The area within the metal valley was filled with what he could most easily describe as checkpoints and guard towers, rising up in regular intervals with a curious aesthetic of angles, tempered by a more organic softness. Red, black and white were the dominant colors; banners flew on the artificially created winds displaying symbols or words of unknown meaning.

There was a precision and direct layout to everything, the streets and buildings were impeccably clean. In the distance he could see larger black pyramids rising up over the more mundane rectangles and squares that made up the buildings around them. Another thing he noted was that the top of the walls were lined with multiple gunnery stations, and there were unfamiliar weapons mounted to the tops of the buildings there.

“A space station,” he wondered aloud. “Amazing.”

“It’s larger,” Vahlen pointed straight upwards and he saw that just through the faint purple mist, which must have been some kind of nebula, were what were likely arms of the station, which were much, much bigger than whatever they were on now. “The scale of this…”

 _“The High Fortress of the Just,”_ the rumbling voice of T’Leth interjected. _“The seat of power for the Adherents. Also the location of the Imperial Sanctum, as the Ethereals called it. It is a simple fundamental rule of this galaxy, the dominant powers control this station. It has been called many things, it has housed millions of species, it has been razed to its foundations each cycle, and is rebuilt in the vision of those who come next.”_

The Commander raised an eyebrow at the manifestation of T’Leth, who stood in silver armor, easily over eight feet tall, and most definitely not a Human, nor any other species he could recognize. The anatomy was almost spindly, even with the armor, and the hands were three digits which more closely resembled pincers or claws than fingers.

The face though solidified the insectoid comparisons. Though it didn’t have an armored helmet, the black carapace fulfilled the same function, even as it exposed the fairly large black eyes and disconcerting mandibles that made up its mouth.

“This is destroyed now, I assume?” He asked.

T’Leth made a clicking sound. _“Long destroyed. One of the final cycles before my arrival to Earth. I’ve found myself thinking more on this particular species and benefactor of late.”_

“Why?” Vahlen asked, sitting down on one of the steps.

 _“To understand that requires the story,”_ T’Leth answered. _“One I can relay if you wish.”_

The Commander sat down next to Vahlen. “We have time.”

T’Leth gave a single nod. _“There was a Sovereign of this galaxy known only to the rest as the Traveler or Wanderer, depending on who was speaking. She was highly secretive; never explicitly intervening in the ways other Sovereigns did, but instead acting as a source of information for many. A broker of power and knowledge. A service many Sovereigns utilized, even though they were aware of the potential danger. But none truly knew about her plans and motivations.”_

“Did you also use her services?” The Commander asked.

T’Leth cocked his head. _“Yes, several times. Her own price was miniscule, and allowed me to get a better grasp on her own personality. She wanted to know about the worlds I visited, the locations of primitive species. Vaults and ruins of previous civilizations. I suspect she was an explorer, perhaps more comparable to a treasure hunter, historian, or archeologist in your terms. In return she provided information on certain…enemies I had.”_

The Commander gave a small smile. “To be more specific?”

 _“Information I exploited to destroy the proxy species of other Sovereigns,”_ T’Leth answered bluntly. _“I was under the impression she quite liked her interactions with me, as she was as sick of this petty conflict as I had grown to be. But in all this time, she had never acted on her own, and for a long time no one suspected she would do anything different.”_

“But she was biding her time,” Vahlen guessed. “A plan millennia in the making.”

 _“Yes,”_ T’Leth confirmed. _“When the Replicator fleet attacked and forced the Sovereigns into hiding once more, there is a long period of quiet in the galaxy. But instead of quiet, the moment the Replicator fleet returned beyond the edge of the galaxy, a new species struck from the uncharted regions. The Adherents as they called themselves, under the unsheltered command of their master.”_

“The Traveler.”

 _“The Just; as they called her, an approximate translation,”_ T’Leth clarified. _“She was fond of titles. The Adherents were a species that revered war and conflict, at minimum developed and refined over multiple cycles. All hidden. All without attracting the attention of other Sovereigns. They claimed this station and began spreading across the galaxy rapidly, exploiting their high birthrates and using reproductive technology to grow their species from billions to trillions within years.”_

T’Leth motioned them to rise and began walking down one of the pathways. “So how does a warlike species live if there is nothing to fight?” The Commander asked.

T’Leth rumbled. _“There was plenty to fight, Commander. The first planets the Adherents attacked were the hundreds of planets that housed developing or primitive life. They were slaughtered with ease, and some were the planned proxies of Sovereigns. Those eventually fell too, and the Traveler had paralyzed the cycle and become the undisputed power of the galaxy.”_

The alien avatar pointed to the pyramid. _“As for what they did when there was no conflict, it is simple. They fought themselves. Daily battles of strength and prowess took place in those pyramids, there were constant cullings of those they deemed inferior both physically and genetically. The Traveler never allowed a civil war, and indeed, the cullings had been engrained in their culture to an extent where those killed simply accepted their fate.”_

“She sounds violent for a Sovereign,” Vahlen noted, looking at the walls which the Commander saw held simple pictograms and images, all of which portrayed fighting or combat in some way.

 _“The Adherents were a means to an end,”_ T’Leth sounded as though he would shrug if it was possible. _“A species to wage nothing but war was necessary. It served the purpose of the initial conquering of the galaxy, and I assume she thought it would be enough to fight back the Replicator invasion. The black fleets they had been taught to expect since the beginning.”_

“But it wasn’t,” the Commander guessed. “She lost.”

T’Leth seemed to consider for a moment. _“I remain undecided on that. I made contact with the Adherents when I realized what her plan was. I agreed to fight the Replicators as there was no Sovereign threat. I suppose that fact that she permitted this was an indication she liked me enough. A rare alliance, but one we both knew was temporary. When the initial invasion took place, it was rebuffed easily for a time. Then the numbers became overwhelming, the tactics more refined, the power stronger. But that is not what caused the downfall of the Traveler and her Adherents.”_

Vahlen pursed her lips. “Another Sovereign?”

 _“The Leviathan.”_ The words came almost in a hiss. _“He came out of nowhere and attacked this station. The Traveler was no warrior, yet she resided here. None stood a chance against this Sovereign, and I am surprised the station was not simply destroyed.”_ A pause. _“Perhaps it was, and it was rebuilt later. But it matters very little. I attempted to help, and managed to engage the Leviathan. A mistake that nearly cost me my life.”_

“Amazing,” the Commander commented dryly. “Intervening to save another Sovereign. I thought you didn’t do that.”

 _“The Traveler was a useful check on the galaxy,”_ T’Leth said. _“A way to even the balance of power. And one of the few who was interested in ending this war instead of perpetuating it. Having her die, especially to the Leviathan, would serve no one aside from her killer. Aside from that, I considered it practice for the day we fought decisively. Although I severely miscalculated his skill and power. A mistake I will not repeat.”_

“And so he hunted her down,” Vahlen said slowly. “Unfortunate. I think.”

 _“Yes,”_ T’Leth confirmed. _“To a largely barren world, where he struck her down. I am unsure how he tracked her, but there was no mistaking the result. With their god gone, the Adherents fell apart and were massacred by the Replicators. A valiant effort, but it was simply not good enough.”_

“So why have you been thinking about it lately?” The Commander asked.

 _“As a lesson,”_ T’Leth said. _“Even as she used the Adherents, there are similarities to our own…alliance. They were treated as close to equals as one could get, and with the cunning of the Traveler and the strength of the Adherents, they came close to conquering the galaxy.”_

“I see some striking differences between us and them,” Vahlen noted.

 _“The principle is the same,”_ T’Leth said, looking over the barren city. _“The Traveler made mistakes. She was too involved, the Adherents were too obsessed with war and conflict. It was a wasteful society, one which she overmanaged. Every single achievement she gave to them, none of it they earned. Most of them barely understood the technology they used because in the end, they were a tool. A means to an end.”_

“And a tool cannot act on its own,” the Commander said.

 _“No,”_ T’Leth agreed. _“The loss of the Traveler and this station should not have doomed the Adherents. But because of the mistakes made, they were little more than children without a parent when she was attacked. The Traveler learned too late that there is a reason Sovereigns normally hide or distort their presence to their proxies.”_

“I assume then this is something you are applying to our own alliance?” The Commander asked as he looked back up to the expanse of stars and nebula in the sky.

 _“Yes.”_ T’Leth notably was silent for a few moments. _“This is an…opportunity. One I certainly did not expect, not from your species. But if this is done correctly, one day Humanity will control this galaxy and the Sovereigns and Replicators will be defeated and hunted. But this is far into the future, Commander. Long after your lifetimes. Long after the Ethereals and their puppetmaster have been destroyed.”_

“Well,” the Commander nodded. “Let us hope the war continues in our favor. The help you’ve provided so far has certainly been useful.”

“Pardon the interruption,” a new voice said, as the Chronicler appeared out of nowhere. “Commander, Vahlen, you’re needed.”

“Why?” Vahlen asked.

“Fiona’s returned,” the Chronicler’s face was neutral, but his voice was deliberately tight. “She’s bought very disturbing news. And a friend.” He glanced towards the manifestation of T’Leth. “We need to talk. The situation regarding the Bringer is much worse than we thought.”

 _“Go.”_ T’Leth dismissed the Commander and Vahlen. _“Speak to Fiona. Chronicler, continue.”_

And within seconds the world around them disappeared and the Commander and Vahlen were back in the real world.

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_1/12/2017 – 9:09 A.M._

This was…one of the more unexpected developments the Commander could have expected.

When Aegis had off-handedly mentioned the Zudjari in several documents he’d written, it had been very explicitly stated that the Collective was not planning to use them anytime soon. He knew Vahlen and a few of the other scientists had inquired as to the species, but he personally did not consider them relevant.

And now one of them was standing in front of him.

Even with the astronaut-like helmet removed, the Zudjari easily towered over him. The armor itself was nothing like either Collective or Human-make, and the technology involved seemed to be a natural evolution of that used by the Outsiders. A confirmation of their Zudjari origins. While he couldn’t read Zudjari body language that well, this one didn’t appear to be hostile. In fact, he seemed somewhat overwhelmed.

Given the story of how he’d come at all, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

But Aegis, he was focused on the other big piece of news Fiona and their new Zudjari friend had brought.

“Mortis is _alive_?”

“There was an Ethereal called Mortis,” Axis repeated, a tone to the voice the Commander couldn’t place. Possibly annoyance at having to repeat himself. “A user of a psionic discipline called Biopathy. Related to another Ethereal called Sana. That is all I know, I had very little choice in participating.”

“And he has recovered….” Awe was in Aegis’s voice. “This changes much. Mortis would never have approved of what the Imperator is doing. And if Sana and the Battlemaster have been exposed to the worst of the Creator’s experiments-”

“None of them were pleased,” Axis interrupted. “Especially Mortis. The Ethereal Battlemaster was more controlled, but he was definitely furious at whatever that place was.”

“Perhaps we should focus on the fact that the Creator has been working on bringing over a Sovereign One apparently trapped in the Psionosphere,” the Commander said dryly. “Ignoring how that shouldn’t be possible, it might be worth asking _why_ the Imperator is letting this happen.”

“I’ll give you that answer,” Fiona shrugged, as she cleaned up her blade. “He thinks he can control it.”

“Control a Sovereign One,” the Commander said as neutrally as he could. “It can’t be just that.”

She snorted. “I never said it was a _good_ reason. Aegis, anything to add?”

“I am of a similar mind,” Aegis said slowly, looking down at the Zudjari. “The Imperator would not take such a risk unless he was sure the benefits were certain and greater than the cost. Yet control over a Sovereign One…even in this state…it seems far too risky, even for him.”

“Except that we’re forgetting one thing,” Zhang suddenly noted, stone-faced. “The Sovereign One the Imperator is working with. Historically the Sovereign Ones have warred with each other, and this Bringer is trapped. If given the opportunity to fully control a direct threat…the Imperator could be working with the Sovereign to make this feasible.”

“Dammit,” Fiona cursed. “That makes a lot more sense. Still, the problem is that according to what T’Leth has said, the Bringer isn’t an idiot. And from what I saw, the Creator has placed _zero_ boundaries on what is happening. Incidentally, she definitely was behind Seoul. Apparently the Battlemaster was actually telling the truth.”

“And you base this off what?” Creed narrowed his eyes. “The word of this other Human? A traitor?”

“Quiet, Creed,” the Commander rubbed his forehead. “Given what we know now there is no use pretending the Collective was behind it. It didn’t add up then, but it does if it was perpetrated by the Creator using the forces of a Sovereign One. That being said, the _Imperator_ does share blame for allowing this to happen at all.”

“So much for the Battlemaster promising to turn over whoever was responsible,” Jackson reminded them. “I somehow doubt the Imperator is going to let him hand over the Creator. Not if she’s involved with bringing a Sovereign under his control.”

“He will be furious,” Aegis said. “He would never approve something like this.”

“That means absolutely nothing,” the Commander shot Aegis a hard look. “The Imperator is in charge of the Collective, not the Battlemaster. What he would or would not approve of doesn’t matter, he’s still working to keep the Imperator in power and that isn’t going to change no matter how much he _dislikes_ it.”

“Except he had no idea this was happening,” Aegis said. “Nor did anyone else for that matter.”

“And what do you expect him to do?” The Commander asked bluntly. “Shut it down?”

“He will make an attempt,” Aegis noted. “Of that I can promise.”

“There are two other Ethereals who can corroborate his story,” Axis added. “While I do not fully understand the dynamics of this species, both of his companions seemed to wield some influence.”

“Mortis more than Sana,” Aegis said. “And yes. Mortis is, for better or worse, similar to your species emotionally. It will be very difficult to convince him that the Creator’s experiments are justified.”

“At the risk of derailing this conversation,” Iosif coughed, speaking for the first time. “We should probably discuss the fact that there is a Sovereign power which was capable of fighting and matching three of the most powerful Ethereals, and someday they _are_ going to be used against us more openly. And this force, I’ll remind you, consists of non-psionic species wielding psionics with some level of mastery, along with whatever other things the Creator has designed which are _also_ psionic. The potential Ethereal infighting, or lack thereof, is not something we can predict or control. This is more important.”

“I concur,” Zhang nodded. “Worst case scenario is that the Imperator begins using these…forces.”

“You cannot fight them like a normal psionic foe,” Axis interjected. “Telepaths especially will fail if they are unprepared. The Mosaic encountered this Bringer before, it seems. I know how to protect myself against what it does.”

“Yes, you are in an interesting situation,” the Commander noted. “I suppose we might as well discuss your future. We can’t have hostile aliens running around, but this is not necessarily your fight.”

The Zudjari was quiet for a few moments as his eyes briefly became unfocused. “The fight you wage is not my own, this is correct. But for now we have a common enemy. The last of the Zudjari are being held hostage by this Ethereal Collective, and Origin is a prisoner. And any alien who allies or tampers with an abomination like the Bringer is an enemy to be purged from this galaxy.”

He looked back down at the Commander, and pointed one finger. “I will help and fight with you, on the condition that the Zudjari be freed. Origin may be lost, but my species should not be condemned or held hostage.”

The Commander crossed his arms, thinking before answering. “From what Aegis said – and this comes from him, the reason they are currently being held is because when the Ethereals awoke them, they immediately attacked. While I’d like to help your species, I’m less inclined to do so if it means we’ll be attacked as thanks.”

“The Ethereals intended to use us as soldiers or pawns,” Axis answered firmly, voice rumbling. “I am not surprised Assimilator Jeen fought, even if it was not in his favor. Some species are willing to become slaves in return for a single favor. We are not. Does your species intend to treat our kind as the Ethereals did?”

The Commander’s mouth formed into a grim smile. “I can assure you that ADVENT, and Humanity as a whole, has no interest in conquering or assimilating aliens. As long as we aren’t bothered, no one else will be either.”

“Then you will have little to fear from us,” Axis nodded. “I was second in authority only to Origin. The Zudjari will follow me, and we will try and find our place in this galaxy once more…” he trailed off. “I have much to think about and consider. The Mosaic cannot be formed in this galaxy, but if that were the case…why should we have been preserved?”

“You’ll have to think about that,” the Commander said before the Zudjari lost himself in self-reflection. “We’ll have to formalize an agreement with ADVENT regarding the eventual treatment of the Zudjari; you’ll need to be caught up on everything before that though. But for now, we’ll protect you, and you help us in return. I expect ADVENT will agree to help your species.”

“That will suffice for now, Commander,” Axis nodded, looking around. “Then I will go to my room…or a cell, if you have one.”

Vahlen sounded surprised. “You want a cell?”

“I do not wish company, or to be disturbed,” Axis said flatly. “I can tell your species is an inquisitive one. I do not want to be prodded or questioned now on my people, history, or any inane question that will arise from such.”

“We can arrange that,” the Commander promised. “And…welcome to XCOM, I suppose.”

“Perhaps we should consider a name change,” Creed suggested dryly. “Soon we’ll have more aliens than Humans here.”

Jackson rolled her eyes. “I’ll let you know when alien numbers actually come that close.”

“That’s enough for now,” the Commander said. “Everyone dismissed; Zhang, Aegis, Creed, Iosif, we’ll need to go discuss a more feasible plan with Fiona here at some point. If you’re willing to be debriefed?”

“Whatever you need,” she sheathed her sword. “I definitely need to prepare for a rematch.”

***

_Atlanta, Georgia – United States of America_

_11/13/2017 – 8:19 P.M._

As it turned out, it was difficult to come up with a workable plan for penetrating the ADVENT Recruitment Center, and from there getting to the machine which would awaken his psionic abilities. The most obvious thing was it would have to be done at night, since the process would take at minimum a few hours.

The Overmind had, surprisingly, been rather…present as he planned this out. Not so much giving advice as making him aware of certain crucial details that he had no hope of figuring out on his own. Such as the fact that it would take close to eight hours for the machine to work. But aside from that, the Overmind hadn’t really helped him.

Well, he’d occasionally make a comment or ask a question which made Ivan pause and reevaluate something. Other times he would be a phantom figure in the background; disconcerting at first, but he’d grown more used to it.

The first thing he’d done was get an untraceable cash flow. He knew ADVENT would catch something if he went and withdrew several thousand dollars, even if it was over a period of weeks. So there was an easier solution. Convert money into other assets, jewelry, antiques, and so on, and sell those off to third parties for cash. Completely out of character for anyone who knew him, but it wasn’t as though he was advertising this.

So that had gotten him a substantial amount to work with, and since ADVENT hadn’t shown up with questions, he’d assumed it’d gone unnoticed, or at least flagged as not a high priority. He’d stayed off the Internet as well, and used public places and networks for any kind of searching which might raise red flags.

Thanks to his work, he was able to call in quite a few favors from former clients and friends. Several he had snoop around the Recruitment Center, or go in and pretend to be interested, while taking note of certain things. From there he was able to put together something of a layout of the place, as well as people of note.

It was through these people that he had also become aware of what passed for the black market in ADVENT, something he wasn’t sure would be possible given the obsession with law and order. But it turned out that it _did_ exist, although from how one of his former clients had described it, it was a lot smaller and secretive than anything before.

It had cost a small fortune just to buy one of the gauss pistols. He’d asked about a suit of armor when he’d considered infiltrating that way, and the man had laughed and said “I don’t know what you’re into, but you don’t have nearly enough for a suit. ADVENT has those locked up tighter than gold and they cost a pretty penny because of it.”

So that had been the end of that plan. It wasn’t strictly necessary; he needed a weapon, and now he had one.

The harsh truth was that there weren’t many scenarios that were both plausible and feasible to pull off. Ideally he wanted someone on the inside to help him, but that was out of the question. He was resigned to the fact that it was extremely likely that he wasn’t getting out of this undetected. Assuming he could get the security shut off, _someone_ would be looking for him eventually.

Possibly not a concern, assuming the Overmind followed through on his end.

There was the matter of getting into the building in the first place. Breaking in could lead to a host of problems, so unfortunately the best solution was to find an employee and coerce them into helping him. Not something he was especially pleased by, but it had to be done. Luckily he’d identified a suitable person who would assist him.

Danielle Cortez, an unassuming young Hispanic woman who worked as a technician in the Center. Lived alone, had a few friends, but not many, able to be overpowered if necessary, and thankfully not especially intelligent since he’d been able to enter her unlocked house and access her devices and calendars. He knew her plans and itinerary for the next couple weeks.

It was, admittedly, stalkerish. But he didn’t intend to hurt her, and once he had what he wanted, she would be released and never see him again. A means to an end.

He was, though, going to be extremely vulnerable when he was in the machine, but the Overmind had promised that he would ensure there would be ‘no disturbances’. He supposed he would just have to put some trust in the Overmind that he was going to wake up and not immediately be shot by ADVENT security.

“You have planned well enough.” Ivan grimaced, though he wasn’t startled any longer. “Working within limitations allows room for growth.”

“And I might die,” Ivan muttered, sitting down at his home table, seeing the figure of the woman he was going to be kidnapping later, though with glowing orange eyes.

But the face was completely impassive. “Then you had best ensure there are no mistakes.”

“Trust me,” Ivan grunted. “I’m aware. So, assuming everything goes to plan, what will happen next?”

“You will be extracted to safer territory,” the Overmind said. “I will not share details in the event you fail and are interrogated by ADVENT.”

Ivan just raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. Truly your kind look upon your allies with confidence and appreciation.”

“And your kind utilize humor and sarcasm as a deflective coping mechanism at curiously high rates,” was the deadpan reply. “Fascinating to see it so pronounced in a species.”

“Really.” Ivan got up and went to his fridge to get a drink. “Well, since I’ve got you talking, why _aren’t_ your kind a little more…” he waved a hand around. “Open? Nah,” he scowled. “But literally every single one of you is serious and like a military officer in charge of a base where no fun is allowed. Even Aegis is like this.”

“It is how our species is,” the Overmind answered. “Emotions cloud judgement. Thus they were tempered. We feel our emotions, but they do not control us.”

Huh, interesting. “You can control that?”

“Every aspect of an individual can be controlled and manipulated,” the Overmind said slowly. “It is merely a combination of time, research, dedication, and technological progress to fully master the genome. We came close…very close. I have seen our species come from being a collection of independent clans and states, to the undisputed power of the galaxy, to our eventual fall and now our rise once more.”

Ivan stopped pouring, processing what the alien was saying. He coughed. “Just…how old are you?”

The Overmind was quiet briefly. “Old, Human. Older than your entire species’ recorded history. Old enough to watch an entire rise and fall over thousands of years. Old enough where I have seen everything the galaxy can offer. Age becomes less important to the immortal, and in truth I do not fully know how old I am now.”

Ivan coughed again. “You’re…immortal?”

“Yes, we are,” the Overmind said. “Our species is. An evolutionary consequence of our low birthrates. We lived a thousand years when we were restricted to our planet. As we conquered our genome, periodic treatments ensured that we never degraded, and as a result, never died.”

“Ah, I see.” Ivan took a swig of his vodka. “You’re not actually immortal, you just cheated actually dying. Clever. Don’t suppose you could do that for other species?”

“Perhaps,” was the answer. “None have tried before.”

Hm, well, when he was off Earth, maybe he could try and see if some scientists could look into that. “Well, to tomorrow I guess,” he said, lifting his glass to the emotionless figure. “A toast, a Human tradition. Good luck.”

The figure showed no visible reaction, but a similar glass suddenly appeared in the hand, which mechanically raised to mirror his own. “Good enough,” Ivan conceded.

Well, one way or another, his future would be decided soon. Hopefully it turned out in his favor.

***

_Isolated Location - Argentina_

_11/13/2017 – 11:11 A.M._

This was an unfortunate interruption. Volk pursed his lips. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“XCOM experienced in psionic interference,” Elena nodded. “Intervention inevitable. Revised plans must be established.”

To put it lightly. When Asaru had said that they didn’t have to worry about ADVENT for some time, as long as they weren’t tipped off unnecessarily, he hadn’t thought to wonder what to do when XCOM decided to investigate. The report from one of the Phantom Division who was keeping an eye on ADVENT Brazilian Command confirmed that XCOM Intelligence had sent an agent.

Abigail Gertrude.

Interestingly enough, this was a woman who actually had a history. A former US Marine combat medic. Exceptional student, extremely intelligent, by all accounts a woman with a bright career ahead of her. She hadn’t seen any action, but despite that a few months into her services she’d been reassigned, and that was where the trail ended.

Seeing as how she’d shown up as an agent of XCOM, she must have been recruited by them. It was certainly an odd career change. Combat medic to soldier made sense, and XCOM would have obviously needed women like her. However, combat medic to soldier to intelligence agent? That was rare and unusual. She didn’t, in Volk’s unprofessional opinion, fit the mold.

That said, XCOM wouldn’t send a novice and she’d apparently been putting together a similarly interesting team. A couple Peacekeepers who’d survived the attacks, multiple psions, a diplomat, several of whom _did_ have actual backgrounds to pull from…which luckily gave him an idea of how she was going to tackle this, and confirmed to him that his misgivings about how the operation was proceeding in Argentina were accurate.

In the end, he wasn’t a leader, a revolutionary, or aiming to start a rebellion. Lofty dreams, but he wasn’t cut out for that kind of thing. He was an assassin, a killer, and it was better to focus on using those skills against ADVENT. Supposedly this Betos woman in Africa was also working with another Ethereal, and she seemed to want to be the revolutionary.

“We need to change our plans,” he finally said, to himself as much as Joreal and Asaru. “If we hadn’t been cautious, ADVENT would be invading Argentina soon and we’d have accomplished nothing. They’re going to speak to the government, and they’ll eventually learn about the ones who dealt with us. Scrub their minds, Asaru, we’re changing our game plan.”

Joreal seemed skeptical, but Asaru just widened a blue eye. “You do not want to fortify Argentina any longer?”

“There wouldn’t be enough time, and it would ultimately fail, and be another state assimilated by ADVENT,” Volk shook his head. “This serves as a base of operations. But that isn’t what any of us are. We’re assassins, not guerilla warriors. Our mission is to hurt ADVENT as badly as possible, and to do that we need to start just targeting people.”

Asaru gave a bright smile. “I cannot say I’m disappointed by your change of heart. Macula will be pleased to hear it.”

“Do you have a target in mind?” Joreal asked.

“Elena?” He nodded to her as she cleared her throat.

“Focus should be on highly placed military officials and heads of state,” she said. “The public assassinations of high-profile figures will demoralize ADVENT personnel and citizens. More specialized targets will hurt their intellectual, scientific, and engineering capabilities. Sabotage or tampering of research facilities is also advisable.”

Volk pulled out a small piece of paper. “I already have regional leaders for the Midwest of the United States. Crippling them in this area will likely improve the Collective’s chances whenever they attack again. In the meantime, the first high-profile targets will be Supreme Leader Iseul Gwan, and South Korean President Chia Seo-jun.”

“That would hurt even worse given recent events,” Joreal complimented. “North Korea still views Gwan in a reverent light. His death would shatter morale there.”

“I have the feeling you aren’t finished,” Asaru noted curiously.

“No,” Volk said, smiling for the first time. “Before we do any of this, I want this investigatory team dealt with. We are going to send Abigail Gertrude back to XCOM in a body bag, along with everyone else she’s recruited to her mission.”

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Outpost, Brasília - Brazil_

_1/14/2017 – 12:44 P.M._

“The meeting is set,” Serena said, handing Abby the tablet. “I got the impression they weren’t exactly happy about it, but mentioning that XCOM was also interested definitely got their attention.”

“And everyone on the list will be there?” Abby asked, taking it.

The diplomat nodded. “Yes. If there was any collusion, we’ll know about it. They also stated that only yourself and I will be able to meet them in person, as soon as they have verifiable evidence that neither of us is psionically sensitive.”

“Well, we prepared for that,” Abby said, shrugging. “I assume their people will be coming to take the samples?”

“Within a couple of days,” Serena confirmed. “They confirm that, we’re all good to go. Not that it’ll stop our resident Inquisitor.”

“He might not even need to be in the building,” Silvio commented from his chair at the other end of the room. “The psions usually have a pretty good range.”

“I’ll let you figure that out,” Serena said. “Just wanted to give you an update on that.”

“Appreciated,” Abby nodded. “Dismissed.”

The woman saluted, leaving them alone again.  Silvio appraised her inquisitively. “What do you think the chances are that the Phantom Division tries to interfere?”

“We should prepare like they _will_ ,” she said, sinking into a nearby seat, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Which is why I think we should bring a team of disguised Lancers for our guard instead of standard soldiers. If we are attacked, or something happens, I want to have soldiers on standby who can actually fight back.”

“I’ll get some agent backup too,” Silvio promised, making a short note on his own tablet. “Plainclothes civilians throughout the city. Hide our numbers further.”

Abby pursed her lips. “This will be a big waste if nothing happens.”

“Well, it’s for a good cause,” Silvio shrugged. “And we _don’t_ want anything to happen. But if it does, you’ll be happy you’ve got Lancers and agents to help out instead of standard soldiers. Not to disparage our fine fighting men and women, but from what you’ve said, they aren’t going to stand against the Phantom Division, or these terrorists for that matter.”

“The terrorists may be the larger threat,” Abby mused, rapping her fingers on the table. “They could also hide in any crowd. So far we haven’t witnessed any kind of suicidal actions, but I wouldn’t rule those out.”

“It will be curious to see what they do,” Silvio said thoughtfully. “Doing nothing may make us drop it if there is nothing, but if someone is guilty, we’ll have another lead to follow. But doing something will _definitely_ confirm that we’re on the right track.”

Abby was silent for a few moments, and decided to give voice to a concern she’d been having over the past few days. “I don’t think that we’ll find anything. Not now.”

Silvio frowned. “Why?”

“Because we’re dealing with Nebulan,” Abby explained, reclining back in her seat. “An Ethereal that specifically likes memory tampering. If they learn what we’re doing, there isn’t anything stopping Nebulan from warping their minds. An attack would be out of character…at least in the middle of a city. She’d do an ambush, somewhere isolated.”

“But this is assuming she learns about us,” Silvio said. “She might not, or learn too late to do anything without it being obvious.”

Abby snorted. “I guarantee there is at least one Phantom agent watching the government if they’re involved. The moment they hear about the meeting, they’ll know what we’re doing. Nebulan isn’t an idiot.”

“So what you’re saying is that Wepper should also probe their minds,” Silvio said slowly. “Has he had any luck so far?”

“Partially,” Abby flipped to the relevant document on her tablet and slid it to him. “The good news is that he found the identifying marker which usually indicates if a memory was tampered with or not.”

“That’s…good news?” Silvio looked up, waiting for the catch.

“The problem is that he was only able to reliably find it in victims with whom it had only happened recently,” Abby supplied. “A few hours at most. These were volunteers. And it seems impossible to tell what the original memory would be. The best thing about it is that the tampering marker seems universal, so it would be easy to find…assuming you know the area to look.”

“So it’s like finding a needle in a haystack,” Silvio muttered. “Even assuming he goes at full speed, could he go through their memories fast enough before they leave? All of them?”

“Unlikely,” Abby admitted. “And there’s still too much unknown. We don’t know if this would change depending on the mastery of the tampering psion. We don’t know if it can be done faster. For all we know, this is the worst possible way to do it. I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“This probably would be fairly recent when the meeting takes place,” Silvio said, thinking as he rested his chin on a fist. “Within a week to ten days. At least it’s a shorter window. Might not be enough though.”

“We might have to rely on command conditioning,” Abby finally said. “If we don’t find anything, and they _are_ working with Nebulan, psionic contingencies will either inform us what they’re doing, or at worst make them wonder if we’ve compromised their government.”

“Then you better get authorization for that from Falka,” Silvio said. “We’re only authorized to read their minds. Actually planting commands needs additional approval.”

Abby sighed. “Is that necessary?”

“It is for us,” Silvio shrugged. “With XCOM I don’t know if that would change things, but I’d rather be safe than be arrested by the Oversight Division for ‘Unauthorized psionic manipulation’. Since we’re dealing with an Ethereal, I doubt you’ll have problems getting it approved. But we’ve got rules for psions here, psions can’t do whatever they want and we can’t _use_ psionics however we want.”

“Fair enough,” Abby conceded. “I’ll get a request written up and sent to you. And the requests to Special Forces and Intelligence, for the Lancers and Agents.”

“I’ll get everything prepped on my end too,” Silvio gave a bright smile. “I almost hope they try something. I’m curious how a group of enhanced spies will fare against the best special forces ADVENT has. And psions, of course.”

“Like you said,” Abby answered. “Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”

***

_Stasis Chambers, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_1/18/2017 – 11:00 A.M._

“I’m sorry, could you _please_ repeat that, Commander?”

The sheer disbelief in Saudia’s tone was almost amusing to the Commander, but he couldn’t really fault her reaction. “Aegis believes it can be done. Now that the Manchurian Restraints are completed, we have our insurance policy-“

“Let me get this straight,” Saudia interrupted, lifting a hand. “You want to wake Caelior up from his _very secure and protected_ stasis pod.”

“That is the plan.”

“And then _use_ him against the Collective?”

“Preferably he’ll be more willing to fight for us,” the Commander said, thinking how best to phrase it. “Caelior was…misused back in the Empire. Aegis sharing some of the truth with him definitely took out a lot of the fight he had.”

Saudia looked like she wanted to slap him. “You… _do_ remember this is the Ethereal who single-handedly leveled Tokyo?”

“And we would be fools to not turn that kind of power against the Collective,” the Commander answered. “With some proper education in tactics, and sufficient motivation, we have one of the most powerful Ethereals to exist on our side.”

“And how do you know he isn’t going to try and break free?”

“Because Caelior doesn’t want to die,” the Commander answered simply. “Because he will want to take revenge for the way the Collective used him. Because we’ve taken extensive measures to curtail any sort of action against us. We’re doing this very carefully, Chancellor, and I asked to speak to you here to keep you up to speed on what we’re doing. I’m not asking permission, but I think it’s best if we’re both on the same page here.”

“I’m glad you at least did that,” she muttered, leaning against the wall. “The media insanity around Aegis would be nothing compared to having Caelior showing up. So _thank you_ so _very_ much for not springing something like that on us.”

“We live and learn,” the Commander allowed a smile. “And in the interest of that…” he pulled out a printed piece of paper and handed it to her. “Also keeping you in the loop, we might be acquiring some additional allies.”

“How?” She immediately grabbed the paper, and skimmed it. It wasn’t fancy, and solely for the purpose of sharing information. The Commander didn’t want any virtual copy of it on ADVENT computers. She blinked several times as she blazed through it, looking up at him again in disbelief. “The _Andromedons_?”

“Technically a Union,” the Commander clarified. “Possibly more. But a very-“

“I know who Union Viarior are,” Saudia interrupted. “I’ve also read all the reports you shared with us. And you’re going to _meet_ with V’Zarrah?”

“Yes.”

“How?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Is he coming here?”

“Can’t share that,” the Commander shook his head. “But it’s taken care of. I’m telling you because _if_ we reach an agreement-“

“It could affect the development of the fleet,” she finished slowly, blankly looking at the walls as she processed the implications. “Resources, designs, training; the Andromedons only have the Sectoids as rivals in naval power. We could have a fully-trained and prepped fleet in a fraction of the time if this happens.”

“Let’s not celebrate just yet,” the Commander cautioned. “But you should be aware of it. Share that document with whoever you think should be informed and destroy it.”

“I’ve handled sensitive documents before,” she noted, carefully placing it in a folder she’d brought along, retrieving it from where she’d set it down. “I don’t think it will be necessary to share it with anyone outside Elizabeth, Laura, and Feng. They should be aware.”

“Commander?” Both of them turned as Vahlen walked inside, giving Saudia a brief nod. “We’re preparing to bring Caelior out of stasis, we’re waiting on you.”

“Showtime,” the Commander said, following Vahlen as they exited the room.

“How certain are you that Caelior can be controlled, doctor?” Saudia asked.

“We’ve applied the strictest of Restraints,” Vahlen said. “He will not be able to speak or act when he awakens, not until one of us manually sets his programming. Witnessing the process should give you more concrete reassurance that he will not pose a threat.”

Saudia didn’t seem fully convinced, but that wasn’t something the Commander was concerned about. One way or another she’d come to terms with what they were doing. They stepped into the stasis chamber, which held Caelior’s own pod which was suspended on the far wall, the bare metal dully reflecting the light from the ceiling.

Aegis and several technicians were already there, the latter of whom were closer to the pod itself, while Aegis stood near the door. “We will be sectioning off the room,” Vahlen said, as she stepped closer to a computer console which seemed to control the pod. “Security precaution, nothing should go wrong.”

“Comforting,” Saudia muttered, as a transparent, but shimmering barrier appeared between the trio and Vahlen.

“There is little danger,” Aegis promised. “If necessary, I can restrain him again.”

“Beginning draining sequence,” Vahlen said, and they heard a low hum begin as the green fluid within the pod began draining into chambers within the walls themselves. For a pod as large as the one which held Caelior, it was a good fifteen minutes before Vahlen announced, “Sequence complete, pod chambers opening.”

Right on cue the pod opened up and Caelior almost fell out of it, though he was caught by the two technicians who were prepared for it, then maneuvered him to a specially designed chair proportionally designed for his large size. The Ethereal wasn’t completely naked, but the Commander knew that Caelior was likely not thrilled at the prospect of being observed when he was so vulnerable.

“Caelior, welcome back to the world,” Vahlen said, walking to stand in front of him, her voice sharp and professional as she spoke to the Ethereal, making it clear that he better listen. “I assume you enjoyed your rest. Now, do not panic. The reason you can’t move or speak is because you have been subjected to the Manchurian Restraints, which have locked your body down and made you unable to react to any stimuli.”

As she spoke, the technicians had still restrained Caelior. Better safe than sorry. “This will be changed shortly, but we understandably can’t take chances. The good news is that you are no longer paralyzed, although it will take you some time to your body to fully readjust to walking and using your limbs again.”

She motioned to the trio behind the barrier. “Once the programming is properly in place, Aegis and the Commander will be talking with you about what happens next. Chancellor Vyandar is here to ensure that we aren’t making a mistake in keeping you alive. I hope you’ll prove our decision was the correct one.”

Vahlen pulled up the other chair in the room and sat down opposite Caelior, while glancing at the notes on her tablet. “Now, let’s begin.”

Ideally, in the future this would be done by Julian. But for now, they had to make do, and doing it manually was likely needed anyway since Saudia was here. “How long do you think it will take?” Saudia asked.

“Hopefully not too long,” the Commander answered as Vahlen began applying the Manchurian commands. “But I don’t think we should rush her.”

***

_Throne Room, the Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_1/12/2017 – 7:11 A.M._

The Imperator at least had an explanation. That was more than the Battlemaster had expected, but to say that it was justifiable was so far beyond the realm of possibility that he was surprised the Imperator had thought he would consider it even remotely acceptable. While the revelation of the theorized nature of the Sovereign Ones was something to consider, it in no way justified allowing this Bringer to have free reign over the Creator.

At least this finally explained why the Imperator hadn’t pushed for more thorough integration of Sovereign technology. If he viewed everything as a potential threat they couldn’t completely control, preventing it from being used in the first place was a good way to prevent a supposed ally from stabbing you in the back.

Perhaps, the Battlemaster mused to himself, he would be more accepting of the Imperator’s concerns if he’d actually seen some evidence that this was actually what was taking place. Mosrimor, the lone Sovereign supposedly allied with them, had barely interfered at all, and as far as the Battlemaster could tell, didn’t seem particularly involved to begin with. The _Bringer_ seemed more involved than their apathetic Sovereign ally had been.

However, there was a bigger concern to be raised. “You deliberately withheld this from me,” he said slowly. The twinkling from the backdrop of stars cast a silvery light on the Ethereals in the room, long and dark shadows rising behind them. “This entire time, you neglected to tell me the actual reason for invading Earth.”

“I did,” the Imperator confirmed; an honesty the Battlemaster appreciated for what it was. It wasn’t as though there was much choice. “As well as others. This kind of information should not be common knowledge, and only shared if the need is dire.”

The Battlemaster took a slow and deliberate breath. “Did you not think that _maybe_ , the knowledge that there is a _Sovereign One on Earth might_ be information that I would consider _important_!?” His voice was rising, but he didn’t especially care. “You didn’t just withhold information, you _lied_ to me about why we were invading Earth! We are not _prepared_ to fight a Sovereign One!”

“Deliberately,” the Imperator answered, still calm. “Had we gone in with this objective in mind from the beginning, we might have forced its hand. Now we have the option to actually land on the planet and wage war without cause for alarm. Had we gone with the sole purpose of killing the Sovereign, we might have never stepped foot on Earth and would be facing a _much_ more dangerous Humanity.”

At the Battlemaster’s silence, the Imperator continued. “I did not lie to you about Humanity. I do intend to assimilate them into the Collective, and they have thankfully helped establish a framework of government to work with once their leaders are removed, XCOM is purged, and the Sovereign is dead.”

“I would like to point out the absolute brilliance of your plan,” Mortis said, voice dripping with contempt. “In your oh-so-noble quest to kill every Sovereign in the galaxy, you specifically go out of your way to invade their planets and make them your enemies where otherwise they would have never known you existed. Or _maybe_ , you could have considered well… _peacefully_ contacting the Humans? You do realize there are other ways to get on a planet without _invading_ it? But no.” Mortis waved a hand. “Now you’ve made the enemy of something a _lot_ more dangerous than you that completely didn’t need to happen. _Great_ job. Truly.”

“You have certainly not changed,” the Imperator said dryly. “Spare me the dramatics, Mortis, no one is interested in your contempt. Consider that if I had done as you said, I would have given this Sovereign the opportunity to infiltrate the Collective through Humanity. That is how they _work_. I would not have made an enemy, but I would have allowed what has been built to be corrupted.”

“And how do we know your theory is accurate?” Sana finally asked. “By your own admission, you have only contacted one of these Sovereigns. The Bringer is another, and you suspect there is one on Earth. How do you know that each one is as manipulative and warmongering as you say? What proof do you have of this? The Humans were not under the influence of one.”

“Because a pattern emerges when one looks at the ruins scattered in the galaxy,” the Imperator answered. “It is heard through the words of their puppets, and themselves. Carefully constructed sentences and promises, while being vague on motives or details. If you want a specific piece of evidence, Mosrimor was the one who provided the location of Earth to me without saying why. He knew, or at least suspected there was a Sovereign, and he wanted us to confirm it.”

“Did you consider that maybe we were unlucky enough to get the evil, manipulative Sovereign?” Mortis asked. “Patterns or not, you’re basically doing what he wants anyway, so good job. Puppet.”

The Battlemaster took another breath, and turned around as they debated. “I don’t think you withheld this information because of tactics or strategy,” he said slowly. “You withheld it because I might disagree with you.”

“You are too focused on your view of the galaxy,” the Imperator said. “You do not grasp the larger picture here. It is not a stretch to determine how the cycles of the galaxy play out. The Synthesized are a symptom of a larger war, not the endgame. You have made it your mission to kill the Synthesized, when your true targets should be their creators, and the ones who see species like ours as mere tools.” His lower two hands were clasped together. “The Bringer gave me locations of ruins; this is a use he has provided. I have verified what he has shared myself. More importantly all one needs to do is look to the inner galaxy. There are species under the control of Sovereigns. They manipulate through deities, proxies, AIs, but this is not a realization I came to overnight, Battlemaster. It is the culmination of years of research, and evidence both circumstantial and actual.”

“Tell me,” the Battlemaster said. “Was the Empire under the control of a Sovereign One?”

“Unlikely,” the Imperator conceded. “But we are an…exception, more than the rule.”

A snort came from Mortis. “Convenient.”

“Recall that we _knew_ our species was the result of an artificial creators,” the Imperator pointed out. “Our species wondered for generations, and found no answers. Yet it seems abundantly clear that we were the product of a Sovereign. I cannot explain why it did not take control, or where it has gone, but we now have the answer. Even if they were not under their control, only they have the skill to engineer a species such as ours.”

“Regardless of the validity of this theory about the Sovereign Ones,” the Battlemaster stated, turning back to the Imperator. “Deliberately seeking out the Bringer is unjustifiable, and goes against what you ultimately want.”

“A means to an end,” the Imperator said. “This is perhaps the only opportunity to acquire and control a being powerful enough to fight another Sovereign. And that will unfortunately be something which is needed. Once the last Sovereign is dead, the Bringer will be disposed of.”

“And if you mess up, you unleash that thing on the galaxy,” Mortis pointed out. “You have no idea what you are doing here. Assuming you’re right, you’ve entered into a conflict that might have been going for _millions_ of years. Do you _really_ think you’re going to be able to outsmart and outwit beings which are older than our entire species?”

“Sovereign Ones are fallible,” the Imperator said. “Their arrogance and superiority can be exploited.”

“How interesting,” Mortis answered. “I was just going to say the same thing about you.”

“You may wish to be a pawn for the Sovereigns,” the Imperator said, an edge creeping into his voice. “But I will not willingly become one in this conflict, and I will attempt to break this cycle forever. Perhaps I will fail, but I will have made an attempt most are never even aware of.”

“So don’t,” Sana suggested, stepping forward. “Reject Mosrimor. Reject the Bringer. Sever contact. Withdraw from Earth. The Empire was without a Sovereign, the same can be done here. An attempt can be made to break free of this theoretical conflict without resorting to...making agreements with monsters and invading blameless planets.”

“Do you honestly believe we could accomplish what I intend with such a plan?” The Imperator growled at Sana, making her step back. “You are idealistic, not stupid. The galaxy has changed. The Sovereign Ones are at large, and this time they will not let the remnant of the Empire pose a threat. We have little choice but to similarly augment ourselves, even if it leads to unsavory places.”

“I’m sure that reasoning never once backfired,” Mortis said, starting to pace back and forth. “Yes, our actions are just as bad as the ones we’re fighting against, but this time it’s actually justified, and before you know it, you’re helpfully uplifting and guiding species to use against the enemies because ‘it’s necessary and they do it’, but this time it is justified because the ends justify the means.” He looked at the Imperator. “Does that sound familiar? Isn’t this _exactly_ what you’re doing with this little Collective?”

“No,” the Imperator stated harshly. “We saved the Vitakara from extinction. We made agreements with the Sectoids and Andromedons. Do not compare me to the Sovereigns who create and manipulate for millennia.”

“While not quite the same,” Sana added. “Your denial rings hollow when Paradise is allowed to exist.”

“Paradise will be controlled more tightly,” the Imperator said. “I mistakenly-“

“No.” The Battlemaster jabbed a finger at him. “Effective immediately I will be suspending any and all activity to Paradise and the Creator. The Gateway will be shut down and decommissioned. If you won’t deal with her, I will cut off her supply of food, componenets, and prisoners.”

“This is bigger than what any of us would _prefer,_ ” the Imperator answered slowly. “What the Bringer is doing is distasteful. It is also our best chance to fight the Sovereign Ones. You may decommission the Gateway, but I will simply have another constructed. I apologize, but this is a necessary task.”

“Is this the real reason Aegis defected?” Sana asked. “Because perhaps he was right to.”

“No.” The Imperator shook his head. “Aegis never learned of it, otherwise he would have informed others, I suspect. I suggest all of you take time to actually _think_ about this. Consider what is best for our species and the Collective. Consider what is best for the _galaxy._ If the price of this understanding is a hatred of me, then so be it. I made mistakes in not sharing this with you and controlling the Bringer, but I will not apologize because they were justifiable and necessary.”

He looked at the Battlemaster. “Consider very carefully what you do next. I will not have further disruption in the Collective, not when significant progress is being made now. I have authorized more Ethereals to conduct additional destabilizing operations on Earth. I want this planet conquered and the Sovereign dead. See to it that this is done.”

“You forget I don’t answer to you,” Mortis reminded him. “And I’m very much not inclined to right now.”

“I suggest you reconsider as well, Mortis’Ligna,” the Imperator turned and began ascending the stairs. “If that is your feeling, then you may leave the Collective. But if you stay, you will follow any instructions I give. I will give you time to decide, but there will be no rebels here. Choose between your species or yourself, but it cannot be both.”

It was as clear a dismissal as could be made, and the Battlemaster had all he wanted regardless. He spun around, and began marching towards the exit, Mortis and Sana close behind him.

***

_Atlanta, Georgia – United States of America_

_1/14/2017 – 7:56 P.M._

Danielle Cortez had no plan for tonight. She was exhausted having not slept well previous nights, and was hoping that this would be the night where she could break that cycle. Go home, eat, change, shower, and sleep before work the next day. Seemed a good enough plan, where she wouldn’t have to worry about recruitment numbers and Trask levels.

She pulled into her driveway, got out, and immediately made her way inside and walked directly to her fridge intending to get some water. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, that was, until she turned and saw a figure sitting at her kitchen table.

With a gun.

She let out a brief shriek before the figure put a finger to where his mouth would be gesturing with the gun to _be quiet_. The figure was definitely male, and much bigger than her even sitting down. He wore completely black clothing, gloves, boots, pants, and jacket. The face was shrouded by a hood, but she could see that there _was_ something covering his face.

“Hello, Miss Cortez.” The man’s voice had a trace of an accent, perhaps Russian, but she didn’t know. It was easily comprehensible and polished. Not what she had expected. “Cooperate and you have nothing to fear. Please no sudden movements or sounds. Understand?”

She gave a small nod.

The man stood, towering over her, making her curse her shortness even more, although it honestly didn’t matter at all with a gun in the picture. “You can speak,” the man said. “But I think we can both agree that attracting attention would be especially bad for you.”

She gave another mute nod, become more terrified of what the man wanted. How had he broken in at all? Was he going to rape her? Would it be better to just fight anyway? “You work for the ADVENT Recruitment Center,” he said. “A technician. With the psionic systems.”

What? “I…” she swallowed. “Yes.”

“Glad you confirmed it,” he nodded. “This is what you’re going to do: We’re going back to the Center, and you are going to hook me up to that machine. Do that, and you’ll be released unharmed.”

Danielle blinked. The Psionic Awakening Unit? How did he know about that, and did he know that it might not work? How would he react… “But…we have to run tests…not everyone can-“

“I’m aware,” the man interrupted. “But I wouldn’t concern yourself with that. I know I’m psionically sensitive.”

A reject? It made sense, but he didn’t seem to have thought this plan though. Not the least of which was that when she hooked him up, he would fall unconscious. More than enough time to get some help. Unless he shot her? No…he would need her, he wouldn’t know how to work the machine. Maybe she could still get out of this.

Perhaps misdirect him. “There are security systems,” she said. “At least one guard. I don’t know where all of them are.”

“You let me worry about that,” he said, motioning for her to turn around with a flick of his gun. “As for the guard, we’ll simply use the back entrance. Yes, I know there is one. Give me your cell phone.”

She slowly reached into her purse and took it out, and slid it towards him, hands up in the air. “Thank you.” She expected to hear the sound of it being smashed or destroyed, but instead heard nothing. “Let’s go for a drive.”

A few minutes later they were on the road, the man sitting in the back seat with the pistol likely aimed at the back of her head. She tried not to look in the rearview mirror too much, and just focused on the road. For better or worse she lived fairly close to the Recruiting Center. On the way she tried to think of the rejects from the PRIEST Division.

There were a fair number who simply weren’t suited to have psionics – that had been emphasized during the training. Standards _had_ to be met, and there were absolutely no exceptions whatsoever. Some people took it well, and found other work in ADVENT, but others didn’t react so calmly.

She cursed her forgetfulness, although in truth it could have been someone weeks or months. “Male” and “Well-spoken” didn’t really narrow down the possibilities, especially since he hadn’t given any details, such as the Trask level, or even basic things like skin and hair color. The man had clearly planned this out, though she still didn’t know how he would deal with being knocked out for hours.

She considered questioning him a bit more, but she didn’t know if it was a good idea to press him. Would he actually shoot her if he needed her? Could he afford to do that? But at the same time, could _she_ risk it?

Danielle did not want to die. Not like this.

So she said nothing and they drove in silence.

A short time later she pulled into the alley which led behind the building, and parked. “Get out,” the man ordered, and she complied as he stepped out in unison with her, the pistol still aimed directly at her. She wished she knew more about guns, because she didn’t even know if it was a real gun or a fake, or if the man knew how to use it at all.

Danielle unlocked the back door, and stepped inside, with the man following her. “Go directly there,” he said behind her. “Don’t delay, I know the layout of this building.”

She couldn’t risk that he actually did. She could only hope that the night guard would either be watching the cameras or patrolling where they were going. A hostage situation would not be the worst outcome because backup in the form of PRIESTs could be called, telepaths. Of course, he might know that and just kill her.

But she definitely did _not_ want to give those kinds of powers to this man.

It seemed she had little choice in that, though.

She took the way to the Psionic Awakening room, a smaller rectangular area with little more than two opposing pods on the ends of the room, with the accompanying consoles to begin and monitor the process. There were a few chairs against the wall opposite the entrance for recruits to sit on. “Go to that corner,” the man ordered.

She complied, and heard some rustling in the background. There was a camera in the room, he might have been taking care of that. The click meant he’d locked them inside. In theory, no one would be able to get in and they wouldn’t accidentally stumble around it since there were no windows looking in. But the security guard would be able to unlock it.

There was something she was missing. This person had planned for everything _up to_ going into the pod. Once he was in, she was free to do whatever she wanted. Was there another person who was following them? “Alright, let’s get this started,” the man said, inviting her to turn back around. “A word of warning, once I’m in there…don’t try anything, since I know you’re wondering that. It won’t turn out well for you.”

She bit her tongue, thinking that was an actual bluff. Since he’d locked them in, she was safe for the time being. Even without a phone, she could simply halt the process or keep him under indefinitely. “I’ll need to attach some sensors and insert some IV tubes,” she said, figuring that he would know the process of this, since he already knew a disturbing amount already. If he reacted badly…that might give her more options.

But he nodded, and stepped up into the vertical pod, even as the gun was still aimed at her. Danielle was surprised by how calmly she was doing this, her hands were barely shaking as she prepped him for the process. A few minutes later she was done, at least with that part. “You should keep your arms flat,” she said. “You don’t want the arm crushed when the pod closes.”

“I’ll worry about that when it’s started,” he said dryly, the gun still trained on her. “Go on then.”

She complied, and began the process. “The pod will close in ten seconds,” she told him as the hum of the machine filled the room. “Then it’ll enter the automated awakening process. It will open automatically once the period is over.”

The man nodded, and laid his arms flat against the pod as it began closing. “Your cooperation is appreciated.” Those were his last words before the coffin-like pod closed and began working. She was still for a moment, thinking she needed time for the pod to knock him out before doing anything.

She yawned, realizing how exhausted she was. The process would take eight hours, that would be enough time for a short nap. It wasn’t as though he was going anywhere, and she needed to be clearheaded in case there _was_ anyone else watching her to make sure she didn’t get help. Just a short nap was all she needed.

Sitting down on the floor, she fell into a deep sleep.

***

_Canadian Wilderness – Canada_

_1/14/2017 – 7:00 P.M._

The subversion of Fort McMurray was proceeding very well. Neil was quite happy with how things had been going. With the Overseer under their control, within days they had established a means of information transfer and he had a significant amount of data to work with. More than enough to plan what to do next.

Killing the Sargon was the priority, and Neil had soon realized that there were plenty of ways to kill a Sargon that wouldn’t necessarily implicate ADVENT. Psionics opened many additional possibilities, as they were finding out as Cycelea was slowly working to turn ranking members of the alien forces in the city into additional tools, and he suspected that within several weeks they’d have full control over Fort McMurray, all without the aliens ever realizing it.

He still had commanded the Overseer to continue patrols into their territory, where they either killed them, captured and psionically took control of them, or just wanted them to see the skinned and frozen bodies of their comrades. All to give the Sargon a legitimate reason to investigate himself.

Around the campfire Neil idly chewed on a piece of Borelian meat. Despite some reservations, it actually wasn’t that bad. It was a little more chewy than most animal meat, and if it wasn’t cooked enough it had a really bad aftertaste, but cooked just right it was very filling. Waste not, want not and all that.

With his other hand he drew crude shapes in the snow, a way of visualizing possible ways to kill the Sargon.

“I still can’t believe you eat that stuff,” Cycelea commented walking in from the woods, Snowtrooper armor still on. It was close enough to the fire that Neil had taken his helmet off, and Cycelea followed his example, shaking free her hair. “Ah, that feels good.”

“Mission successful then?” He asked.

“Yep,” she nodded. “I’m getting pretty good at it. To the point where I’m worried I might overlook something important. But I don’t think I’ve made any mistakes. Yet.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing, I’m not concerned,” Neil said, reaching close to the fire and taking a plate of meat to her. “Figured you’d be hungry. Don’t worry, 100% from Earth.”

She looked suspiciously at it, but took the plate and sat down. The wind chill felt nice close to the fire, even as it howled in the distance, picking up and blasting snow around them. Not likely a storm, but he didn’t want the fire going out anytime soon. “Everyone on watch?” Cycelea asked.

“Or sleeping,” Neil confirmed. “Everyone’s got something to get done.”

“Including you?” She raised an eyebrow as she ate.

“Oh, yes,” he gave a thin smile. “Namely deciding how our upcoming Sargon is going to die. Input is needed, obviously.”

“Hit me then,” she crossed her legs, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve got ideas of my own.”

“Alright,” Neil picked up the stick and began tracing in the snow. “We’ve got our traditional way. Have the Overseer lead him out to show the area itself. We ambush and kill him, and since we have control over a lot of aliens, it turns into a chaotic mess. Not good for anonymity, but it would do the job.”

“Doesn’t seem subtle enough for you,” Cycelea mused.

“I think there is a better idea here,” Neil said. “The Sargon will arrive in a vehicle most likely. While he’s touring with the Overseer, we have some controlled aliens plant a bomb, or sabotage it some other way. Have it detonate when he’s nowhere near here. Suspicious, but it could be a freak accident, and even if they suspect otherwise, it wouldn’t be near us.”

“Until they look at where he was last,” she pointed out. “Might draw more attention.”

He scowled. “Good point.”

“However…” Cycelea leaned back slightly. “If you could make it so that it detonates at a _different_ time, like from when he leaves his home base… _that_ would be far more difficult to track. Assuming the bomb isn’t discovered in the meantime.”

“The problem is we’d need to know when he’s using it again,” Neil said. “And we don’t have any aliens under our control there.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Neil corrected. “But we’re not…” He smiled. “Ah, I like where you’re going.”

“The Sargon will likely come with a guard,” Cycelea said. “Elites, but also regular Mutons and possibly Vitakara. Nothing stopping us, or specifically, _me_ from planting some new orders in their minds. Orders that _could_ involve anything as complex as detonating a bomb at a certain point, or even simply attempting to kill the Sargon that way.”

Neil scratched his chin. “Three Inquisitors could subvert a group fast. Especially with all the practice you’ve have been getting.”

“Exactly,” she smiled. “And in the _unfortunate_ event that it works and our alien spy is discovered, it will appear to be an act of a traitor, and not connected to us.”

That was an especially devious plan, and one he quite liked. “Well then, Inquisitor,” he said with a returned smile. “I think I know how we’re going to kill our Sargon.”

***

_The Prism – Classified Location_

_1/12/2017 – 10:09 A.M._

The Battlemaster suspected that Mortis would have been more impressed if they hadn’t just come from speaking to the Imperator. Sana had returned to her own Blacksite, where he suspected that she was just waiting to inform Mortis of everything that had been going on. But Mortis wanted to talk to him first.

“Impressive station,” Mortis said as he looked into the main simulation room. “I suppose there are some perks of this Collective.”

“Some,” the Battlemaster said, placing his sword back within the mounted hold. “Though the usefulness of such is out of reach at this moment.”

“I suppose you would feel that way right now,” Mortis said. “I’m surprised the Imperator kept something like that from you. It seems like crucial information.”

“Because it _is_ ,” The Battlemaster growled.

“I suppose the question is what happens next,” Mortis mused. “I will need to become acquainted on the situation of these Humans, and right now would prefer not to wander aimlessly. The Imperator is of the type who would likely follow through on such a threat.”

“I will inform the others about what has happened on Paradise,” the Battlemaster said. “As well as what the Imperator believes about the Sovereign Ones. Our kind must know the truth of what is happening. The Imperator will not halt that.”

“Are you sure?” Mortis asked.

“He cannot,” the Battlemaster shook his head. “If he bars me or others, then that will raise questions. Too many questions, especially now that you’re here. Perhaps he will preempt what I say, but the truth will come one way or another.”

“I think we both agree that the Imperator is taking the wrong path, yes?” Mortis said, turning back to him. “I dislike it, but he does have a point about the Sovereign Ones. We should not be bound to them, and forge our own path.”

“But not like this.”

“Exactly,” Mortis nodded. “Paradise needs to be destroyed completely. Though I am at somewhat of a loss as to how to accomplish that. I suspect there are enough Ethereals who are loyal to the Imperator no matter what, and the only other option is this species on Earth.”

Yes. Earth. ADVENT and XCOM would be especially keen to destroy something like Paradise. Given what Yang had shared, they likely already knew. “The options are limited. The Imperator will dislike any action taken against Paradise, and possibly remove me from command if drastic action is taken.”

“How important is that to you?” Mortis wondered.

“I am a Battlemaster,” he paused. “Perhaps he could not force me out, but it would be a disconnect I would feel since he would isolate me as a result. There must be a better way. I have put too much into this Collective to damage it because of the actions of the Imperator.”

“From the sounds of it, you are the _only_ Ethereal to put anything into it,” Mortis pointed out. “I suspect the aliens in it have a much higher opinion of you than the Imperator. What is he going to do if you do something he doesn’t like? Execute you?”

“Unlikely,” the Battlemaster admitted.

“So do something then,” Mortis suggested. “Carefully, mind you. Something subtle. Which reminds me…Sana mentioned you have an intelligence chief?”

“Who answers to Quisilia,” the Battlemaster corrected. “Who appears to back the current path of the Imperator.”

“Unfortunate,” Mortis walked to a large chair and sat down. “This is a time where I wish that we had a rival. Someone to use against the Imperator. I observed this in other species. One dominant power is almost never good for anyone, especially when they are mentally challenged.”

“The closest schism was when Aegis defected,” the Battlemaster released a sigh. “But within the Collective there is nothing. The Imperator is without equal. Nor do I necessarily think that should change, even if he makes mistakes, I am unsure what would happen to our species should he die. We do not have more Imperators…and those will be needed against the Synthesized.”

Mortis appraised him for a moment. “Not exactly a vote of confidence for the Imperator. I agree, the Imperator will be needed. However, I do not necessarily think he is fit to lead the Collective.”

The Battlemaster stared dubiously. “Whatever you’re thinking of that could possibly work, it won’t.”

“I have experience dealing with people of subpar intelligence in authority,” Mortis stood. “But I need to talk to Sana to get a clear picture of this situation first. In the meantime…” he waved a hand. “Go check up on that Human that was with you, or go conquer that planet. And let the others know about Paradise if you want.”

“I’ll start working on that,” he said dryly, knowing that Mortis did have a point. He should check on Yang, to make sure she was recovering. It was fortunate she had survived the ordeal at all, which spoke to her skill, but he had the feeling it was also luck. Either way, he was glad she had not died.

***

_Unknown Location_

_1/14/2017 – 5:16 P.M._

Yang groggily awoke, and the fact that she could see again was immediately a reason for relief. That she could also move her limbs after a few seconds of experimentation proved it. She was half-tempted to think that the entire ordeal had been some fever dream after taking a large dose of alien drugs. The only problem with that was that she never took drugs, and unlike any dream, she actually remembered what had happened.

She closed her eyes again.

“Good. You are awake.”

She was somewhat surprised, and unexpectedly pleased that the Battlemaster was taking some time to check up on her. Well, perhaps she shouldn’t be, and winced at that thought. “Second time in as many days,” she muttered. “Thought I would do a little better than this.”

The Battlemaster was in his armor, though it was cleaned up and like new, though he lacked his sword and instead was sitting on a nearby bench that lined the grey metal wall. Looking around, Yang had no idea where she was, only that she was laying on a pretty comfortable bed while a console at the foot of her bed showed her vital signs. The room was dimly lit, but very clean from what she could tell.

“You lived.” Was all he said. “Most would have died in your position.”

She gave a shrug, which was more difficult to do laying down. “Don’t make me feel better. Trust me, if I hadn’t had help I would have died,” she flashed him a smile. “But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

The emotionless helmet looked at her, and she realized that he didn’t really know what to say to that. Right. The Battlemaster wasn’t exactly a humorist, which she supposed meant that he’d actually meant what he’d said. He was not one for empty compliments. It was a statement of fact for him. Well, at least she wasn’t a complete disappointment.

“I apologize for putting you in this situation,” he finally said. “That was a scenario you were unprepared for, and I failed to consider the Creator was more…fortified…than I believed. I have no intention of killing you because of my negligence.”

“Please,” Yang weakly waved a hand. “I guarantee that no one could have predicted whatever the hell the Creator was doing there. And anyway, how am I supposed to be a worthwhile partner if I don’t fight with you in places like that?”

“Because you are not prepared for it,” he answered. “But you handled yourself well, and will emerge stronger for it. But I prefer to not force improvement this way.”

“Well, I definitely know what I need to do to get better,” she said. “Once I’m stronger, I’ll be training more.” There was some silence. “So,” she turned onto her side to face him better. “Is the Creator still alive?”

“Yes.” The word was curt and bitter.

“Really?” She was actually surprised. “What happened?”

“The Imperator arrived and ended the conflict,” he answered heavily. “Then proceeded to reveal that he’d known about that place the entire time. He has decided against taking further action against the Creator, from anyone, myself included.”

 _“What?!”_ Yang could not believe that he’d actually said that. “What!”

“The Imperator has demonstrated questionable judgement here,” the Battlemaster said. Calmly, but there was a low anger underneath it. “But destructive action is not going to be tolerated.”

“ _Why!”_ She didn’t care that she was yelling, the fact that Paradise was _still_ in operation was almost making her sick. “What is he _thinking!”_

“He considers it a means to an end,” the Battlemaster said. “He told me, and I will tell you now.”

“Really?” Yang asked bitterly. “Or would the Imperator disapprove of that too?”

“He would,” the Battlemaster nodded once. “But I do not care. You were there, and deserve to know the truth. You should make yourself comfortable,” he paused. “This will be a long story.”

***

_Officer of the State, Abuja - Nigeria_

_1/12/2017 – 8:11 A.M._

It was time to put the games to an end and shape the SAS into something which could feasibly stand against ADVENT. Betos had initially been hopeful that the men she’d asked to help form it would help develop it into something strong and united, but instead they appeared to have simply seen it as a power grab to further enrich and benefit themselves.

And that simply would not do, especially given recent events.

The attack on Seoul had been a major shock to her, and she had wondered why the aliens would do such a thing, especially given the guarantees of Macula. However, a closer look at it had made it appear that it wasn’t as clear cut as ADVENT wanted to make it seem. For one, she knew that the Ethereals would gain nothing from such an action, especially if they were courting Human allies like her, and second, she couldn’t completely dismiss the idea that this was a false flag attack ADVENT carried out themselves.

Given what she knew about them, it would not surprise her. She didn’t _know_ for sure, but the way ADVENT had taken advantage of the tragedy by first razing an alien-controlled city to the ground without repercussions, and then demanding that she be turned over to them made her wonder. She knew that civilians were just numbers to ADVENT. The destruction of alien installations, and the capture of their most famous defector could be easily justified in their minds.

But she ultimately did not know for sure.

Were ADVENT capable of such an action? Yes.

Would they _do_ it? She didn’t know, and Macula didn’t have evidence for it. The problem was she could pose that same question to the Collective and achieve the same result.

Was the Collective capable of such an action? Yes.

Would they _do_ it? There were almost no upsides that she could see, which was why she was inclined to believe Macula when he said they were not behind it. It wasn’t that they were incapable of the action, it was that they would be idiots to actually follow through.

She had been summoned by the Joint Presidents, as they were calling themselves, after the message ADVENT had sent to them. And thus she was on her way to meet them, and subsequently introduce them to Macula and his forces. Mox and Kellani were behind her, the latter of whom was disguised to hide his Oyariah features.

Kellani was extremely large, however, and it did attract some odd looks, but none of the soldiers were brave enough to stop them, especially with Betos in front. She was in her armor, helmet under an arm as she marched into the building which had been converted into the State Building for SAS Executive matters.

They had to stop for weapons checks, although Betos had made sure that they were clean before even coming. Much as she wanted to have a rifle at her side in there, the security measures wouldn’t have allowed it and she had no desire for confrontation yet. It might come later, but she knew with Macula around that there would be no threat.

Inside the Joint Presidents were seated in a semi-circle, in a fairly ornate room with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, several bookshelves lining the walls, and colorful rugs lining the floors. The men opposite her were all in suits with the exception of Kone, of course, who still had a pistol and knife openly displayed.

“Marshal Betos,” Ndulue greeted with a nod. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Your bodyguards may remain outside,” Kone added, suspiciously looking at Kellani. “This does not concern them.”

Neither Mox or Kellani budged, and Betos simply set her helmet on the table in front of her. “I decide if my soldiers are privy to what I am or am not involved in, not you. You have nothing to fear from them, we were checked before arriving.”

“And we rank above you, Marshal,” Ezeudo said, leaning forward. “This is a private matter between us. If you wish to inform them later-”

“I thought I made myself clear,” Betos interrupted firmly, raising a hand. “They will _stay_. If you wish to debate this, I will leave as I have actual responsibilities to attend to.”

“Very well, Marshal,” Kone’s lip curled up in contempt. “ADVENT has sent a formal request to turn you over to them, or they will annex our countries. We have a month to comply.”

“I am aware,” Betos confirmed. “And how seriously are you considering complying?”

To their credit none of the men denied they were. “This is a…complex situation,” Ndulue began slowly. “We are agreed that without you we would not enjoy the status and alliance we have now, and complying with anything ADVENT demands is distasteful.”

“At the same time,” President Atem said with equal cautiousness. “We do not stand a chance against their armies, even with the weapons and armor you have provided. If it were the Western countries of the old world, I would not give these demands a thought. But ADVENT _has_ shown their willingness to carry out these acts of conquest and genocide. This is a power incised by the alien attacks on their citizens, they demand retribution for those who oppose them. And we – specifically, _you_ , Marshal Betos are the face of the Human resistance.”

“It is a matter of survival,” Kone spoke, the beady eyes behind his spectacles boring into her. “We refuse and risk what we have achieved being destroyed. Comply and ADVENT may leave us alone. We are divided on a course of action, and decided to consult with you to see if there is an alternate option we have not yet considered.” His tone indicated that he saw no other option.

Here it went. “Understand this,” Betos was careful to enunciate everything clearly. “Even if you do turn me over, ADVENT will eventually attack. Their mission is to control every part of the world and if it is not in the immediate future, it _will_ come eventually. There will be some reason, some application of pressure they will use, to bring the SAS into the fold. Complying now will only make their job easier in the future.”

“Perhaps,” Kone said neutrally. “But you do not know for sure.”

“I can promise that you will have a better chance with me in command than if it were otherwise,” Betos said. “ADVENT is only concerned about the SAS because I am here, not because of you.”

Ezeudo chuckled. “Bold words from a woman. Then turning you over to them should ensure they ignore us for some time.”

“And you will eventually pay the price in the future,” Betos answered evenly. “Having worked with your military, they would be destroyed in any encounter with ADVENT without actual leadership and strategy. Which right now has poor representation.”

“Insults do not change minds,” Kone said. “You are speaking the words of a woman who is trying and failing to fight her fate.”

“There is another option,” Betos finally said. “We make an alliance with the Ethereal Collective.”

There was dead silence as the four men stared in shock, clearly not expecting her to say that. “First,” Ndulue said slowly. “We have no means of contacting them, or if they’d be willing. Second, that would _ensure_ that we’re attacked by ADVENT.”

“The SAS will come under attack by ADVENT one day,” Betos answered. “The only way to effectively fight back is to be similarly equipped. As for the aliens being willing…” She motioned to Kellani who removed the helmet, revealing the stone-skinned Oyariah.

“You’ve been speaking with _them!”_ Ezeudo yelled, immediately rising furiously. “What are you _thinking_?”

“We have no desire to enter this war between the Collective and ADVENT,” Atem noted slowly, appraising the Oyariah suspiciously. “This was a mistake, Betos. How long have you been speaking with them?”

“Long enough,” she said. “I did not want to bring them up unless it was necessary, and so I could see what you had planned for the SAS. As well as to negotiate with them.”

“You were not appointed our diplomat,” Kone growled. “You stepped far outside your authority. I have no desire to ally with these aliens, nor be involved in this war. But _you_ Betos, you have forfeited any chance you had at walking away from this free. I suspect ADVENT will be _very_ curious to learn what you know about the aliens. Perhaps that will grant us some more favor with them.”

“I am afraid Kone is right,” Ndulue said. “This changes everything, Marshal. We cannot be dragged into this conflict and what you’ve done will only ensure ADVENT attacks us, especially once they learn about what you’ve done. For the good of the SAS, you must be turned over.”

“I would…reconsider that,” Betos looked to the far wall to see Macula standing there. Appearing out of thin air, which meant he’d been affecting them with his time perception telepathy. The orange glow of his eyes seemed ominous as he looked at the Presidents.

“How did you enter, alien?!” Kone hissed, his pistol in his hand and aimed at the Ethereal. “Answer now.”

“I walked in,” was the answer, as the Ethereal raised his upper left hand, and snapped. Instantly he held Kone’s weapon in his hand, with Kone looking down in shock at his empty hand. It was both amazing and terrifying to see Macula demonstrate his powers. “Unfortunate that I hear you discussing your intentions to turn Lady Betos over to ADVENT, despite taking the steps necessary to ensure your independence. Disappointing.”

“An Ethereal…” Ndulue breathed. “How…”

“Lady Betos has expressed her disappointment in your government,” Macula said as he tossed the weapon away, and began pacing across the room. “A bunch of old men obsessed with power and control. Using your armies to settle old scores and punish your enemies. Petty. Intolerant. Disrespectful to the vision Betos proposed to you. She handed you the keys to eventual control over Africa, and yet you have thrown them away.”

Directly in front of them, he turned to face the men directly. “But unlike you who are stuck in the past and your prejudices, _I_ see the vision she wishes not just for Africa, but Humanity itself. You had your chance to bring it fruition, and you _squandered_ it. You do not deserve the power you hold.”

“You would not kill us…” Ndulue swallowed. “You cannot.”

An obsidian blade appeared in the hand of Macula. “Is that right, Human? Would you stake your life on it?”

“We are the presidents of nations,” Kone stammered. “Our deaths would cause riots in the streets. Chaos in government! Think before something is done which you will regret!”

“You overestimate your worth,” Macula said softly, taking a step forward to them. “The ones you look down on will not mourn you. And each of you is merely a Human. One who can be replaced by ones with _vision._ ” He turned around. “But I am a mere representative here to ensure the success of Lady Betos. Thus, I will leave your fate to her.”

“Think carefully, Marshal,” Ndulue implored her. “You wouldn’t be here if not for us. Executing us because this alien encourages it will only make you their puppet.”

“She only allied herself with you out of necessity,” Macula said, suddenly appearing behind the men. “You no longer have a use. She can do _better_.”

“These men would have turned you over to ADVENT,” Kellani said. “They are untrustworthy and do not deserve mercy.”

“But do they deserve to die?” Mox asked. “Betos…”

“They have lost their place in the SAS,” she said slowly. “But we will not execute them. Not here. They will be removed from power and held in cells. If there has been misconduct and crime, then it will be brought to us and they will be tried. But we will not execute them for the sake of it.”

The blade vanished from Macula’s hand. “As you wish, Lady Betos.” With a wave of his hand the eyes of the men rolled up into their heads, and they fell down or slumped onto the table, unconscious. “It is time to assert your control over your citizens, Marshal. Bring in your people and begin.”

***

_ADVENT HQ – Switzerland_

_1/27/2017 – 1:09 P.M._

Saudia had not expected anything major to happen today, and in fact was enjoying a day of approving projects, reviewing the dozens of reports that were being sent to her, and otherwise giving statements when appropriate. She did understand why there were many prominent officials who usually just had someone write every statement for them, and never touched it themselves. It was a time consuming process and exercise in saying a lot of the same things over and over. But she’d never really approved of that practice; and she certainly didn’t trust anyone to speak for her, especially on matters of state.

Hassan was in front of her desk, and the hologram of Elizabeth was also close beside him as she reviewed the known details from what appeared to be a mass murder attack in China. “Were there recordings?” She asked, glancing up at them.

“The Chinese have not released them,” Hassan explained. “Likely. But they probably want to try and contain this themselves before releasing more details.”

“It doesn’t add up,” Saudia muttered. “A well-respected and highly ranked official walks in one day and begins killing his staff? That doesn’t sound normal. Any history of mental illness in his family, Elizabeth?”

 _“From what records we’ve been able to acquire, no,”_ Elizabeth answered. _“Which is odd, I’d agree. Nor does he seem the type susceptible to blackmail. Finances check out, married with kids, clean criminal record, healthy, and has multiple accolades from the Communist Party. This isn’t the guy to just snap.”_

Saudia pursed her lips. “I suspect you’re thinking what I am?”

 _“Alien meddling?”_ Elizabeth shrugged. _“Possible, but we won’t know for sure until the Chinese release more details. If it is, it’s certainly cheeky. Have an untraceable attack which hurts Chinese leadership, perpetrator dies, and since the Chinese don’t have Manchurian Conditioning, they have no defense.”_

“If it is aliens,” Hassan wondered. “I wonder what their goal was. It seems this may have been a testing ground for something.”

 _“I’d like to put in the request with the Chinese regarding that,”_ Elizabeth pointed to the report in her hand. _“Page 6, evidence number 14. I don’t suppose you know what that thing is?”_

Saudia turned to the appropriate page, and shook her head. She _had_ noted that it stood out from the evidence, and in fact was the only photograph the Chinese had included. It appeared to be a black pyramid, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand, and found in the briefcase of the man who’d carried it with him before his attack. “No. But it might not be anything. A pyramid isn’t exactly a unique ornament.”

 _“I don’t know,”_ Elizabeth crossed her arms, tone skeptical. _“I’m not sure why the Chinese would include the picture if it was just an ornament. And even if it was, why was he carrying it with him?”_

“I’ll pass along the request in my personal message to President Qin,” Saudia said, setting the report on her desk. “And get the media ready within the hour. We’ll do the standard response. ‘ADVENT gives their sympathies for the attacks in China today and stands by to offer support,’ and so on. You know the drill.”

“I-“ the phone suddenly rang, and Saudia pressed speakerphone, knowing that the secretary wouldn’t call through unless it was important.

“Yes?” She asked.

 _“Foreign Minister Xuan is on the line,”_ she answered. _“I would have passed it to Hassan, but I know he’s with you. Do you want to take it or should I-“_

“Put it through,” Saudia interrupted, looking to the confused faces of Elizabeth and Hassan. “Foreign Minister Xuan.”

“It must be more serious if they’re contacting us,” Hassan noted. “Normally that would wait until the official statement. It’s only been hours.”

At a click, Saudia returned her attention to the phone. _“Chancellor Vyandar,”_ Xuan greeted. _“Thank you for answering so quickly. I’m sure you’ve heard of the incident.”_

“Yes, we have,” Saudia nodded. “I would like to extend our condolences. We will officially make a statement of support later-“

 _“Appreciated, Chancellor, but we can ignore formalities here,”_ she picked up a touch of tension in his voice. _“The report we sent you was the same as what we sent to other nations. A formality, as you understand. That was before the more recent development. The situation is much worse than the media is aware of right now.”_

Saudia leaned forward, furrowing her eyebrows. “In what way?”

 _“We don’t know,”_ Xuan said. _“Not fully. But everyone who was working on the crime scene is…changed. They’re killing and dragging people to the scene, and fortifying it. Soldiers are doing this, Chancellor. This has only developed within the past half hour. This must be based in psionics. We need your PRIEST Division to fully contain this. I can guarantee that ADVENT will have full access to all information and materials related to this incident.”_

“I’ll begin mobilization of a detachment of the PRIEST Division,” Saudia confirmed, making Hassan and Elizabeth stare at her more intently. “I assume you have the scene locked down from the outside?”

_“Yes, but we would prefer not to bomb one of our government offices. We do not want the population panicking. The situation is already unsettling enough, this cannot get out of hand. The situation is contained for now, and PLA soldiers are fighting to regain ground, but the ones inside are entrenched.”_

“We appreciate the request and update, Minister,” Saudia said. “I’ll have my secretary put you in contact with Chief Ambassador Hassan to keep you appraised on our progress.”

 _“We thank you, Chancellor,”_ Xuan answered. _“Your assistance will not be forgotten.”_

Saudia hung up the phone after the farewell. “Looks like this is definitely psionically based. A bunch of people at the crime scene also are acting odd and shooting at government officials and soldiers. They’re requesting PRIEST help.”

 _“I’ll have agents on the ground,”_ Elizabeth said. _“This turned into an interesting day.”_

“Unfortunately,” Saudia rubbed her forehead. “Let’s get this done.”

***

_Vitakar Orbital Station – Vitakar Orbit_

_1/26/2017 – 9:55 P.M._

Nartha was quite happy for the short break the Zar’Chon had given him after the ‘successful’ mission with the Andromedons, which had not been in person largely because the Zar’Chon was still handling operations on Earth. It was a good thing that was the case, because Nartha was concerned that if someone _was_ reading his mind when speaking to the Zar’Chon, the presence of the small orb Fiona had given him would be a large red flag.

That was something that he needed to figure out.

The Zar’Chon had tasked him with reviewing a bunch of reports from Earth and giving his analytical opinion of them. It was quite useful, as he knew now _exactly_ what the Collective did and did not know about ADVENT and Earth in general. No names of agents, but he could figure out locations easily enough and volume could also indicate how many there were in an area.

He was keeping a separate piece of paper for notes to turn over to XCOM. There were a lot more agents in America and China than he felt ADVENT would be comfortable with. Sadly he only had access to information acquired, no details as to future plans or operatives, even though someone could probably put the pieces together.

He’d also kept the Nulorian up to date, as much as he could, and while they initially seemed extremely unbelieving that there would be a possible alliance with _Andromedons_ , the proof he’d provided had appeared to convince them. Enough to where they had said that it would go straight to Miridian himself.

Nartha figured it was only a matter of time before he met the illusive figure.

He was saving the reveal of Human agents until there was actually something to show for it. XCOM was apparently working on it and would be in contact soon. As well as the Commander choosing a meeting time for V’Zarrah.

“Hello, Nartha,” he started as the familiar voice of Fiona spoke behind him. “Been a spell, hasn’t it?”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said, turning to her. “But hello to you too.”

“Shun says hi,” Fiona said idly, for once not actually wearing any armor and just normal Human clothing. It was conspicuous since he’d never seen her not in armor.

“Ah, good,” Nartha acknowledged, rather pleased she was carrying messages. “Tell her I hope to see her soon. Speaking of that, I assume you have news?”

“The Commander wants to meet V’Zarrah,” Fiona handed him a sheet of paper. “At this time. He’ll be brought to this location. If you want to come along as well, let me know.”

He looked down at it. “Unfortunately probably not a good idea. The Zar’Chon will be suspicious if I go dark for a long time. This can be done without me, I can get what’s important afterward.”

“As long as this gets to him, that’s fine,” Fiona nodded. “And as for getting some XCOM teams in Collective territory, we’re finalizing that. Within a week, I think.”

“Excellent,” Nartha quickly walked over to his table and pulled out data cube, along with a copy of his own notes. “Take this to the Commander. The Zar’Chon made the mistake of giving me access to intelligence reports on Earth. He might be interested in them.”

“Will do,” Fiona took the offering. “You never stop working, do you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Fair point,” she gave a brief and slightly mocking salute. “Until next time, Nartha.” With a blue-green flash, she vanished into thin air once more. Turning back to the table, Nartha began working on sending the information to V’Zarrah.

He sincerely hoped the meeting went well.


	42. Playing With Fire

 

_Beijing – China_

_1/27/2018 – 6:11 P.M._

Saudia knew there would be a significant media buzz around her unexpected visit to China, not to mention the relative proximity she had to the scene of the incident itself. While she wasn’t directly on-site, she was in a nearby building where she would be able to follow the entire operation. Foreign Minister Xuan was also on-site, and seemed extremely shocked that she was so close.

He probably hadn’t expected to see her in combat armor either. She didn’t view the entire suit as necessary, but protocols dictated that if she was to be in proximity to a dangerous situation, she had to wear protection. She had absolutely no fear for her life, especially not when surrounded by Ethan and the most well-trained and genetically enhanced soldiers ADVENT had, as well as shadowed by Intelligence agents, along with an entire PRIEST Team who were continuously scanning telepathically for threats, and a Defensive specialized psion to shield her in the event of danger.

Overkill, but she figured the price was worth it. She didn’t fail to note how much the people liked whenever she directly participated in something. The picture of herself leading ADVENT forces to arrest the former Prime Minister when ADVENT had annexed Canada had been in the news for days as were statements like “She isn’t letting others do her work”, which she knew ADVENT Intelligence had run with as part of their own media operations.

Of course, right now the media did not have any idea of what was going on, and she expected a slew of questions to answer. Which she would, when she actually knew the extent of the situation herself. Her entourage, along with several ADVENT field Officers and Protopriests, made up the majority of personnel in the impromptu Situation Room. Minister Xuan, along with several Chinese soldiers and officers, made up the rest.

The operation had already started, and with Protopriest support the Chinese had already pushed through the initial floors. With that said, the words from the Protopriest in charge were disconcerting. _“I definitely sense something. Telepathic-based for sure, but it doesn’t seem to be psionic. Or at least nothing like I’ve felt before.”_

Protopriest Alice Dromor had found that more troubling than the rest of them, if her face of concern was anything to go by. “Specify, Protopriest Ji, is it a sustained telepathic command or aura?”

 _“Both,”_ was the answer, as they watched through the armor cams as several Priests annihilated the defenses with psionic blasts or telekinetics. _“It’s like…a loop, almost. The same command repeated over and over, but in an aura. The THD, that’s what this is…but against allies.”_

“What is he referring to?” Xuan asked quietly as the operation proceeded.

“The Trask Hypnosis Doctrine is the method of subtly subverting an enemy group or population,” Protopriest Dromor said without turning. “Usually a repeated phrase or command, sent over and over again against enemy minds. Easy to maintain and devastating if applied correctly. First performed by Patricia Trask, if you were aware of our counterattack against Las Vegas. She used this to kill a significant amount of enemy forces before ADVENT arrived.”

“I see,” Xuan nodded. “So that was how she did it.”

“Updates, Protopriest?” Dromor returned her attention to the operation. “Is the telepathy stronger?”

The soldiers were moving through the building, and coming very close to where the crime scene had been. _“Yes, it is,”_ was the confirmation. _“Enough to where I can sense the source. I’m attempting direct penetration, but it’s impossible. This isn’t a mind, I’m positive it’s an artificial projection.”_

“That’s…” Xuan looked to Saudia. “Is that possible?”

She simply pursed her lips. “At the moment, the answer appears to be yes. But I’ve never seen or heard of something like that before.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Dromor shook her head. “Psionics cannot be accessed by machines. There needs to be an organic component; a mind complex enough to access and manipulate the Psionosphere to this degree.”

“ _Well, should or not, that’s what it appears to be.”_ Everyone in the room leaned forward as the armor cam showed the original crime scene. Several of the affected Chinse soldiers and workers were easily dispatched, and in the center was the pyramid Saudia remembered from the file the Chinese had sent to them.

But it wasn’t the same pyramid any longer. It was floating a few inches off the ground, and the entire pyramid was partially segmented, little chunks and points not quite connected to the greater shape. It was as if someone had broken the pyramid into pieces, and was using telekinesis to hold them in place a few seconds after it had been broken. But these were clean and straight cuts, obviously _not_ broken.

No light or color emerged from it, if anything only the air appeared distorted around it. _“Orders?”_ Protopriest Ji asked.

“Contain it, see what it does,” Dromor ordered, and a few seconds later the pyramid was encased in a box made of psionic shields. The pyramid did not seem to react in any noticeable way.

 _“Nothing,”_ Ji said. _“I’m going to try and force my way in. It’s closer, so I can concentrate better.”_

They waited quietly for a few moments, and then as unexpectedly as it had begun, the pyramid suddenly pulled itself together and fell to the ground, an inanimate object once more. “What happened!?” Dromor demanded.

 _“I don’t know,”_ the Priests moved closer to the pyramid, with Ji picking up the device. _“I began to try and penetrate it and it just…shut down. It’s not emanating anything now. Perhaps it sensed I could penetrate it.”_

“Which means that it’s sophisticated enough to have protocols like that,” Dromor muttered. “Or that it’s powered by a user somewhere else. Neither is good.”

_“What should we do with this?”_

Dromor looked to Saudia. “Chancellor, I would be highly cautious handling something like this. I cannot say that we could effectively contain it if it starts up again. However, we can set up an isolated research facility if you want.”

“No,” Saudia shook her head. “We send it to XCOM. Aegis might know what this is, and how to best contain…or dispose of it. They’ll share whatever they learn from it, and I do not want to risk this activating anywhere else.”

“Understood,” Dromor nodded. “Protopriest, bring back the artifact intact. Be prepared if it activates again. Prep it for transport.”

_“Understood.”_

“Concerning,” Xuan said as the room became more relaxed and the soldiers began talking amongst themselves. “I do not know what the purpose was behind placing such a device in my country, but it is fortunate you were able to intervene.”

“Indeed,” Saudia answered. “We appreciate that you shared this incident with us. Now it will be contained and hopefully explained later by XCOM. A potential crisis prevented from escalating.”

“The President will extend his thanks to ADVENT publicly later,” Xuan assured her. “Although I would request that you forward any relevant results from this artifact whenever ADVENT learns of such. If one of these artifacts appeared in my country, I do not wish us to be caught unprepared again.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Saudia promised. “Now I have my own media to address. They will be demanding answers for this…unexpected excitement.”

“Then I will let you handle them,” he said, giving a thin smile. “Until next time, Chancellor.”

***

_Psionic Training Area, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_1/20/2017 – 11:03 A.M._

And so the saga of XCOM being a haven for all kinds of disaffected and outcast aliens continued. Nuan had honestly been unsure how anything could top Aegis in the first place, but no, not only was there a completely new alien in the Praesidium (Who preferred to keep to himself for now), but fucking _Caelior_ of all aliens was not only around, but actually active.

Was he on their side now?

Iosif was being…helpful. As much as he could be, as they watched what Nuan could swear was a therapy session for Caelior, with Aegis helping him train and walk again. Apparently XCOM had done something which had paralyzed him, and he was almost learning how to walk again. “He was essentially a massive propaganda tool,” Iosif was saying. “A rallying point for the Ethereal Empire. They played into the image he made for himself, and as a result…well, he became an arrogant twat.”

Nuan raised an eyebrow. “A _twat_?”

“How Jackson described it to me,” Iosif shrugged. “He needed a good humbling.”

“Right,” Nuan chewed her lip. “Are you actually allowed to tell me all of this?”

“It isn’t classified,” Iosif assured her. “It just isn’t especially important now anyway. There _is_ a lot of stuff I can’t tell you, but most things relating to Ethereals and their history can be shared. I guess Aegis thinks he can redeem him in some way.”

“You think so?”

“I’m not sure he has much of a choice,” Iosif looked thoughtful as they watched the Ethereal get used to using his powers again by lifting three shipping containers full of concrete. “His entire life and status was a lie, and he is understandably angry at the Imperator for perpetuating it. I think it helped that he was completely beaten. It was good for him.”

Seeing the Ethereal easily lift the shipping containers, even with a wavering arm, made Nuan feel glad that he was, if not on their side, at least under their control. Hopefully. “I guess he’ll be getting back to normal soon?”

“I’d expect so,” Iosif said. “A few weeks at most. From the looks of it, his own skills haven’t deteriorated.”

“Ah, such an impressive display,” Geist noted, walking into the room, arms crossed. “Lifting things into the air. Truly the Ethereals have taken the practice of psionics to its fullest potential.”

Nuan scowled. “Speak for yourself. That can’t be easy.”

“Hello, Geist,” Iosif greeted. “You’re in a good mood.”

Geist raised an eyebrow. “You know what? I just finished having a fascinating conversation with that Zudjari about how they utilized psionics. Imagine my surprise when I learned they had actually attempted some development of the discipline, and in fact created what I consider to be a completely new branch of telepathic theory.”

“Ah, I know,” Iosif recalled. “Memetics. Agreed, that can be useful to us.”

“Yes, and I suspect it would have taken us time to come up with the same theories,” Geist said, leaning against the wall. “But the Zudjari appeared to do more than refine the powers they had, and instead worked on how to expand and modify them. An attitude I’ve noticed the Ethereals simply do not possess. There is a disturbing lack of _creativity_. Lifting crates?” He sniffed. “Any telekine can do that.”

“And you have a much better idea?” Nuan asked sarcastically.

“Spare me your sarcasm, Miss Kun,” he waved a hand. “In fact, I have. Telekines have the world at their disposal, which they can manipulate as they see fit. They can exploit the environment for unparalled movement, they can extend their reach through manipulating tools and weapons, they could have the potential to create or affect weather. And instead most confine themselves to throwing things at each other or picking up opponents like toys. Basic. There is opportunity for so much growth.”

“That…” Nuan paused, thinking. “Alright, you have a point.”

“I think you also have to consider that Caelior is…recovering,” Iosif suggested. “This is a basic exercise.”

“I will need to speak with Caelior about a refinement of his own strategy,” Geist said, turning to look at the Ethereal pair. “His potential is extreme, and one that powerful should not rely on such basic manipulations.”

“You don’t seem too affected by him being here at all,” Nuan noted with interest.

“Caelior?” He glanced to Nuan. “The Ethereal is under control and will be a valuable resource. Should he prove unreliable, he will be disposed of. I have no strong feelings one way or another. The Commander obviously kept him to use against the Collective, and we are no worse off with him here and alive than the alternative.”

Iosif just chuckled and shook his head. “Practical as ever.”

Nuan sat down. “Has the Commander ever just considered recording Geist insult the aliens and their poor usage of psionics and broadcast it? It might hurt some of their feelings.”

“That…” Iosif grinned, and looked down to her. “I’ll have to speak to the Commander about that.”

“Wait,” Geist frowned. “I did not intend to become a mere propaganda piece. Do we want to give them ideas?”

“What?” Iosif asked lightly. “You think any Ethereal is going to take ideas from a _Human_? Us, a mere primitive species?”

“Good point,” Nuan muttered. “Although if I heard Geist insult me like that, _I’d_ certainly want to prove him wrong.”

“Hilarious,” Geist said, deadpan. “However, I suspect the Commander, and yourself, have more important issues to tackle, as I have my own projects.”

“Projects around your psionic ideas?” Nuan asked knowingly.

“Of course,” he nodded. “And by the time the Collective decides to attack again, I hope they will be ready to use.”

“Assuming they do decide to attack again,” Nuan said thoughtfully. “Maybe they don’t want to keep fighting.”

“Sadly,” Iosif sighed. “I’m sure that’s far from the case.”

***

_The Conduit Chamber, Paradise – Orbit of the Dead World_

_1/19/2017 – 10:16 A.M._

The center of the station of Paradise reminded Patricia of several cathedrals she had visited. The high ceilings, the sense of scale and awe which permeated the area, and the feeling that one was standing in something old and grand. The area the strange agents of the Bringer had referred to as the Conduit chamber was this very room.

It was a circular room, with the metal walls rising up from the ground to meet at a certain peak far above her head. In the center of the room was a large, though clearly unfinished, pillar which was elevated off the ground with steps leading towards it. The pillar itself had its innards exposed, revealing wiring, strange transparent materials, and what was likely components to handle psionics.

From what the Imperator had said, it appeared that this would be where the Crossing would take place. The moment where the Bringer would cross over into their own reality. It was…to put it very bluntly, not the best of ideas she had heard. When the Imperator had casually mentioned his plan, she had lacked a proper context for what exactly the Imperator was dealing with.

Now that she did, she wondered if the Battlemaster was right and it would be better to send the Bringer back to whatever hell he had come from. It wasn’t necessarily the sheer loss of life that was happening here that was the only problem. It wasn’t as though ADVENT or XCOM weren’t experimenting on Humans or aliens as well; she’d known this better than anyone, although she agreed with the Battlemaster that sending children and civilians was unacceptable.

But if there was going to be experimentation done, it needed to be for a purpose.

In Paradise, the purpose could be merely entertainment for a show.

She’d come very close to murdering that insane Sectoid when he’d oh-so-willingly explained _why_ he was using children for performances. No wonder the Hive Commanders kept their drones docile, and for the first time she was thankful the Sectoids had such a tight control over their species. It appeared that given the chance, they could be just as bad, if not worse, as Humans.

These Aspects of the Bringer though…they were different. Especially the one that stood in the room beside her and the Imperator. The face of the Temperance was different now. Instead of the strange face it had showed, now it was a marble Humanoid head complete with a neatly trimmed full beard. So it had the ability to shape its features. Possibly good information to know.

 _“There is a chance that the Conduit may not function properly should you proceed with this level of…security,”_ the Temperance finally said, the voice at the same pitch as it always was. It was eerie how it never changed tone once.

The Imperator was not perturbed. “Then work around it. I was far too lax in my oversight of this place. Consider yourself fortunate you have not joined your brethren or been executed as the Battlemaster demanded.” He looked directly into the dead eyes of the creature. “Be thankful that I am allowing this to continue at all.”

 _“Your reasons are sound.”_ The Temperance was clearly not looking to argue. _“We will adapt, and we will earn the trust that His Artist lost.”_

Patricia snorted. “Still want to pin all of this on her?”

The head turned down towards her. _“The Artist made a grave error which did not reflect His will or order, and brought down judgement upon all of us. If you refer to the state of those within Paradise, such is the way of His path. All have a purpose, and all fulfill it. And in the end, each and every individual enters His embrace. It was not merely the Artist, but a combination of multiple factors and misunderstandings. Our restrictions are deserved, and we will work to earn back this trust.”_

Patricia pursed her lips. “We shall see about that.”

“I’m done,” Fectorian stepped down from the Conduit, sounding rather unhappy as he shot a look that was _definitely_ annoyed, even through the helmet, to the Imperator. “Send the signal and this entire area is obliterated along with Paradise, and several trillion nanites will consume the ashes. I suggest you remove my own access to the controls, otherwise one day I will detonate this place whether you like it or not.”

“Noted,” the Imperator said neutrally, turning to the Temperance. “You understand the price now for further acts of antagonization?”

A nod. _“Clearly.”_

It was part one of the Imperator’s plan to resume his iron grip over Paradise. With enough elerium bombs to crack a moon, the loss of the most important piece of technology for the Bringer would be devastating and unable to be replaced. This would prevent an…unauthorized crossing from taking place, or as sufficient motivation not to fuck up further.

The second part was one Patricia especially liked. “Now, turn around,” Fectorian ordered the Temperance, pulling out a small black square. The Temperance complied, and he placed the square on the back of the head, which soon broke into several million nanites which traveled over the body until they burrowed into crevices and openings. For good measure Fectorian places four additional of the nanite pads on the neck and arms of the Aspect.

“I sincerely hope you try something like this again,” Fectorian mocked, as the Temperance turned around. “I’d especially like to see your barriers protect you when you’re eaten alive. Please give me a reason to turn them on.”

“Fectorian,” the Imperator had a neutral tone, but Patricia knew he considered that kind of mocking unprofessional. Although Fectorian was not exactly one who held a high opinion of the Imperator at the moment. If it was up to him, he would have destroyed the entire place, and Patricia wondered if he hadn’t put a back door which might allow him to do just that.

She wouldn’t shed any tears should it happen, but she unfortunately agreed that without a controlled Bringer, it would be difficult for the Imperator to fight a Sovereign One. Though she was still of the opinion that if that couldn’t be completely guaranteed, it shouldn’t be attempted. She would rather the Imperator find another way than risk unleashing this thing on the universe.

“My job in this part is done,” Fectorian said, moving to exit the chamber. “Unless you want to help me establish the surveillance network, I would prefer to work alone. That goes for the statue.”

 _“I will take my leave.”_ The Temperance also quietly walked away.

“Then I suppose we will as well,” the Imperator said, as he waved a hand and the air formed into the shape of a portal. “Let us return.”

Within moments they were back on the Throne Room of the Temple Ship. The darkness was now almost a familiar comfort compared to the harsh, red lights of Paradise. The oppressive presence that loomed over everything there was thankfully gone, and even the Imperator’s own presence was nowhere near as intense and pressing.

Perhaps she’d gotten used to it.

“You disapprove.” The Imperator was moving to his seat, as the map of the galaxy lit up throughout the expansive black chamber.

“I’m skeptical.” There was no point in lying. “I see your reasons for continuing with your plan. But I’m not convinced it is safe to carry out.”

“The Crossing will not take place without my express permission,” the Imperator said, his words echoing with surety across the chamber. “I will dissolve the Aspects and force the Bringer to start again should he continue to test me. They are within a box, one which I control completely. Their only options are to defy me, and suffer the consequences, or comply and follow my exact instructions.”

“Do you need to preserve that… _culture_ they have too?” Patricia crossed her arms. “Is that actually necessary?”

“Yes, and no,” the Imperator laced the fingers of his upper hands together. “There is nothing requiring me to indulge in their twisted fantasies. But I allow them because it makes them more productive and willing to help me enslave their god. If this requires the deaths of civilians and children, the innocent and guilty alike, and in return results in trillions who will no longer be under the thrall of the Sovereign Ones, then that is a price I will pay.”

He paused. “You understand this, Patricia. A price is necessary for the greater good. XCOM has performed similar acts in pursuit of what they – what _you_ – believed was right. Would you consider what has been done wrong?”

She pursed her lips. “That’s the wrong word to use. Just because it was _necessary_ does not mean I think it was right.”

“Exactly,” the Imperator nodded. “I do not take pleasure in loosing the monsters of Paradise, but it is a necessary step to shattering the chains the Sovereigns have placed on the galaxy. I do not expect XCOM or ADVENT to understand. They will condemn this, not because they are necessarily in the wrong, but because they simply do not understand the stakes. I cannot reveal the plan to them, nor do I think many would accept it.”

He cocked his helmet at her. “Tell me, Patricia, do you see another path to facing the Sovereigns?”

She sighed. “Not an obvious or easy one, no. You’ve never seen one fight. Neither have I. Can you really prepare for something you’ve never seen or fought before?”

“Yes, but the methods will be incorrect,” the Imperator agreed. “Hence why Earth is… _important_. And now, we know the name of the Sovereign who resides on your planet. _T’Leth_.”

The galaxy map shrank until it focused directly on Earth. “How likely is it that the Commander is in contact with this T’Leth?” The Imperator asked. “If the Sovereign is bold enough to send agents to such a place, I would imagine by now there has been contact established.”

“Likely,” Patricia sighed. “Knowing the Commander, he won’t be trusting of any Sovereign initially. But he would at least see any enemy of the Collective as an ally.”

“You assume the Sovereign has given him a choice at all,” the Imperator noted. “The Commander is not a powerful psion. He would not be able to prevent himself from being manipulated or controlled. Not from a Sovereign. There is a very real possibility that XCOM and ADVENT have been compromised.”

She frowned. “But…how sure are you of that? Mosrimor didn’t dominate you, this T’Leth might not have either. Not that I think he’s an ally to be trusted, but that is a major assumption.”

“I am not sure,” the Imperator said. “But there is one way to determine the extent of this alliance…if it exists at all.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“You contact them as I have contacted you,” the Imperator stood. “Allow me to show you how. Use this to speak to the Commander. To Creed. To whoever you trust to answer your questions. Find your answers, not from me, but from those you lived with and fought besides.”

“Or I could go to the Praesidium myself,” Patricia pointed out. “Or would you not permit that.”

“My word stands,” the Imperator stated. “Should you wish to leave, I will not stop you. But consider if I am right, and when you return you will become a pawn of T’Leth. Do you truly believe that the Commander will throw away an alliance with one as powerful as him? Do you believe your species has a _choice_ in how to handle a Sovereign? Your species retains their independence at the whim of T’Leth. You cannot change that there.”

“Point made,” she scowled. “Fine. Teach me how to do this.”

***

_Training Arena, the Prism – Blacksite of the Battlemaster_

_1/24/2017 – 11:11 A.M._

It was remarkable just how _real_ everything here seemed. While the Prism couldn’t replicate certain parts of psionics, such as telepathy, it could simulate everything else almost perfectly. There was a sense of weight to the projections that made every test feel authentic. It was arguably better than training against actual opponents since she could set the intelligence and difficulty levels to whatever she wanted.

No more fighting drugged-up Mutons and failed Zararch.

She had also given up trying to figure out how this whole thing worked. The Battlemaster had said it was Sovereign technology which utilized dark energy, and that was as far as she had understood. Yang just accepted that this was how it was. And right now, she was fighting through a labyrinth in order to get to Nico, her opponent here.

They’d been taking turns, with one person preparing the defenses and giving orders to the projections, and the other assaulting whatever location they created. It was a good way to hone their own skills, and especially their tactics. There had been plenty of victories and defeats for both of them, but Yang was feeling good about how she was doing right now.

It helped that she was still furious at the Imperator for what she could safely say was one of the most idiotic decisions she had ever heard in her life. It was gratifying to know that the Battlemaster, and quite a few Ethereals it seemed, were against the decision, but none of them actually wanted to do anything.

Damn chain of command. The Battlemaster was too loyal for his own good. But she knew it was unreasonable for him to throw away everything to undermine the Imperator’s decision. Whatever the case, this entire incident had killed a good portion of the respect she had for him. For a practically and logically driven individual, this seemed just…extreme.

And no, she didn’t consider the Sovereign Ones as good justification. One of their agents had saved her life, so at least _that_ one couldn’t be completely bad. It was a good scapegoat though. Literally anything could be justified if you said it was to prevent the galaxy from being manipulated by space gods.

The anger was still there as she reflected on it, but now she was able to channel it better. It gave her that extra bit of punch and adrenaline she needed in fighting.

It felt _good_ to kill everything she came across.

Four Muton Elites suddenly appeared from all sides, their plasma cannons glowing as they warmed up. Good flanking attempt, and in a maze like this she _might_ accept that Nico hadn’t just cheated and teleported them there. Within seconds she sent her swords towards the weak spots of the helmets, and they easily penetrated, killing two instantly.

With the other two she telekinetically crushed the plasma cannons, rupturing the elerium core to cause an explosion which didn’t kill the other two Elites, but her compressing their internal organs into paste finished the job quite nicely. Telekinetically calling the swords to her hands, she continued onward.

The Prism was also useful for training to kill specific enemies. She’d done enough repetitions on killing Elites that it was already becoming instinct. Most aliens and basic ADVENT soldiers were easy to kill with little effort. XCOM soldiers were a lot more difficult, as were some of ADVENT’s special forces. Likewise, there were Ethereals and some of the more dangerous Zararch agents which also posed a threat from the Collective.

Andromedons were tough to crack as well.

At last she saw a door which she knew would lead to the end. Nico was either out of aliens, or coming very close. She had killed a significant amount on the outer perimeter, and dealt with the ambushes inside. Normally Nico put up a better defense, but she was fairly certain that he’d failed to take her new genetic enhancement into account.

That had been one of the first things she’d done when she’d fully recovered. She was never going to be stuck at a place like Paradise with the body of a regular Human woman. Yang couldn’t completely say how well Ethereal genetic enhancement would stand up to that of XCOM and ADVENT, but from how she felt now, she knew she could hold her own.

Extending a hand, she clenched a fist and the door crumpled and ripped off its hinges. Nothing shot out in response, or came out, so she proceeded cautiously, keeping a telekinetic field active in case something came at her. As it turned out, there was nothing inside except Nico sitting in a chair looking almost embarrassed.

“I forgot you’d been enhanced,” he winced. “Sorry, otherwise it would have been harder.”

“Duly noted,” she said, relaxing. “You took the maze from what I told you about Paradise, didn’t you?”

“You said you almost died in it,” he yawned, standing up. “Thought ‘why not try and see how that works’? Made some mistakes though, clearly.”

“I don’t mind it,” she waved. “It was cathartic.”

“I guess you’re not going to let that go anytime soon,” he said. “Not that I blame you.”

“Not planning to,” Yang confirmed. “You can tell Sicarius that.”

“Believe me,” Nico grunted. “She knows the situation very well. She wasn’t especially thrilled with it either, especially when I told her what you told me.”

That was actually surprising. “The Imperator didn’t tell her?” Yang didn’t bother disguising the surprise in her voice. “Why? I thought that was the one he actually cared about.”

“She _is_ ,” Nico emphasized. “But I suppose she isn’t as…practical as him. She knew the basic plan, not actual details.”

“What a surprise,” Yang muttered dryly. “You would think that something this secret might mean that it shouldn’t be done.”

“Nothing can be done about it now,” Nico shrugged. “Anyway, you want to take command for the next round?”

“Sure,” she said. “Good luck. Because I’m not going to go easy on you today.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t expect you to. I’ll be ready when you are.”

Sitting down in the chair he’d been in, Yang began using the console to set up her own challenge. Eventually the planning and focus distracted her from the issues of the Collective and Ethereals. Here at least, she could do something that was the closest thing to fun in this place.

Which was an unfortunately depressing thought.

***

_Throne Room – Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_1/22/2017 – 1:32 P.M._

Patricia was unsure why the Imperator wanted to speak to her now. She was still experimenting with the far-distance telepathy techniques the Imperator had begun instructing her in, but she had underestimated just how… _vast_ the gulfs between minds were. It was at a macro scale that she was still having some trouble fully visualizing.

Such was expected, according to the Imperator. Even Ethereals had difficulty operating or utilizing their abilities at a scale beyond their own immediate vicinity. Only those who had trained their lives from birth to instinctively grasp this scale could transverse it effectively. The Overminds and the Imperators had the capabilities to perform this, and Mortis and Sana were capable of the inverse.

Humans could do the same, she was sure of it. The Imperator suspected the same.

According to the Imperator, once your target was located it was extremely easy to repeat. It was finding it in the first place which was the challenge. The universe was vast and expansive; all living beings were imperceptible in the cold black of the universe. Even Sovereigns weren’t exempt from this isolation, which she supposed would explain why they were still fighting each other for millions of years unceasingly.

“You have been here longer than I initially expected.” Patricia turned to the silver domed head of Sicarius. The Ethereal assassin had a tendency to follow her, just hiding on the edge of her sight. She rarely spoke, but just watched her. In times where Patricia was alone or even when speaking with the Imperator, Sicarius was just waiting in the background.

Forgotten.

She found the effect Sicarius had on everyone fascinating. Even telepaths weren’t immune to it unless they were prepared. Patricia wondered how many times she’d spoken to the Imperator or other Ethereals with Sicarius plainly in view and her mind simply ignored her. The effect Nartha had spoken of she now knew firsthand.

It was almost sad. Everyone around her soon forgot she existed. The only exceptions Patricia had seen were the Battlemaster, for obvious reasons, and Nico, who she suspected was simply trained to always block out Sicarius’s telepathic aura to forget. It wasn’t difficult to imagine why Sicarius wanted a partner of her own. Having someone who knew you while you were alone in the world was enticing.

She shook her head to avoid becoming distracted. “Surprised?”

“Mildly,” Sicarius just stood there, still as a statue. “But your time for impartiality is coming to an end. You cannot stay on the edge forever.”

“Not forever,” Patricia agreed. “Are you afraid I’ll go back?”

“No.” Sicarius took a step forward. “You know the truth now. There is no going back. You will not choose between returning to your kind or not; you will choose to run from what must be done or face it.”

Sicarius had a point, though Patricia would not have phrased it as such. But the core, that there wasn’t any _true_ going back, that was very real. The Sovereign Ones changed everything, and she couldn’t just pretend that they did not exist. Some may be able to live in willful ignorance, but she was unfortunately not one of them.

It was something she was concerned about. That if she did decide to return, and everyone was still the same…that they wouldn’t listen to her. It would be so easy to dismiss anything said as lies told by the Imperator, that her mind had been affected, any number of admittedly plausible reasons to avoid the truth.

Patricia just sighed, tugging on the white glove of the silver clothes she wore. They were still some of the most comfortable things she’d ever worn. “I know. You don’t have to remind me.”

Sicarius looked at her, probably in sympathy if her face had been shown. But the faceless helmet only reflected light. “I believe you do, Patricia. It is not an easy choice, but time is running out for you. The Imperator will not allow your neutrality forever.”

“When the time comes, I’ll make my choice,” Patricia said. “But until then, I’m not going to pretend that I’ve decided one way or another.”

“I think you have decided,” Sicarius said. “It is now a matter of admitting it to yourself.” She motioned to the Throne Room. “Go to him, I will not keep you longer.”

Patricia gave her a nod and walked up the steps to the chamber door. As she glanced back Sicarius was gone. There hadn’t even been a whisper indicating she had moved. This part of the ship was always eerily quiet regardless, and Sicarius was just the haunting ghost. By now Patricia was at least somewhat used to it.

Inside the Throne Room the Imperator was standing in the expanse in front of a large holoprojection of Earth. It was color-coded, with hundreds of points of interest and slowly spinning. “ADVENT is continuing to prepare,” the Imperator stated. “Their territory has continued to expand as more and more join their numbers. The United Kingdom overwhelmingly voted to join, and it is only a matter of time until the remainder fall into line.”

Patricia took a moment to just observe the idly rotating globe. “The lull is coming to an end.”

The silver helm of the Imperator turned to her. “It is. There will be small doses of conflict before this, I know that to be the case, but the war will soon reignite. The Battlemaster is preparing his legions, he is strategizing how to break the Human lines. ADVENT will not be an easy target. Yet there are places other than ADVENT where the war could reignite.”

“Africa?” Patricia asked. “China? It will only serve to push them into ADVENT.”

“Indeed,” the Imperator said, pacing around the globe. “But Africa…no, there are events taking place there that I would prefer ADVENT not interfere with. Not yet.”

“You’re working with Betos,” Patricia stated, crossing her arms. “That explains quite a lot. I suppose you forgot about the notice ADVENT sent to the SAS?”

“ADVENT has far more important issues to deal with in the world,” the Imperator said calmly. “The notice will fade from their minds for the moment. It will fade from the realm of public opinion and knowledge soon enough. The Overmind is assisting in this. There may be conflict in Africa, but it will not be between ADVENT and the Sovereign African States.”

Patricia decided she wouldn’t ask how exactly he was doing that. She had her doubts at the feasibility of erasing or suppressing something like that, but that was something for them to worry about, not her. The knowledge that the SAS was working with aliens was enough to ponder on. “So what am I doing here?”

“I am curious of your opinion,” the Imperator said, walking in front of the part of the globe displaying North America. “There are multiple fronts to reignite the conflict. ADVENT in America continues to push forward, and our territory there is threatened. I suspect the Battlemaster would want to begin retaking lost ground there. This time there will be no holding back.”

Patricia snorted. “He’d need a massive army and something truly spectacular to break America. He could probably conquer it…eventually.”

“There are the other fronts as well,” the Imperator continued. “Japan. South Korea. There are territories which are not as closely protected. Russia. Germany. India. There are no shortage of places to strike. I am curious, Patricia, what is the ideal decision here?”

She felt it was a trick question. The Imperator wanted a specific answer from her. Well, he would probably accept what she gave, but there was definitely an ulterior motive than simply asking what she thought would be the best tactic against her species. “That depends,” she said slowly. “Are your speaking from the Battlemaster’s perspective – or your own?”

She immediately sensed the Imperator approving of her choice of words. “I am asking the question.”

“The destruction of ADVENT is not a priority then,” she continued, more confident this was what he wanted. “Earth must eventually choose a side, be it that of ADVENT or that of the Collective. The new offensives should not focus on territory ADVENT already has, but what it does not. At worst ADVENT intervenes and emerges victorious, or alternatively the territory of the Collective is expanded. But another country refusing to join one side or another will be removed, and will not revert to what it was.”

She looked at the map. “China should be a priority. Argentina, Africa, and what remains of Europe as well. They should be made to choose a side. ADVENT will not due to their laws, but the Collective is not under that obligation.”

“Good,” the Imperator gave a single nod of approval. “You see what is important in this conflict. The species must be united as one before they are properly assimilated. There is less risk of drawing the Sovereign as well through this. But before that happens, there is another way to incentivize ADVENT to act across the globe.”

“Oh?” She was curious. “How?”

A small vial was lifted from around the Imperator’s waist, and hovered just above the palm of his lower right hand. “A curious discovery the Zararch made when performing research on diseases Humans were weak to. The Sectoids have been interested in such for some time, and they stumbled upon a disease that, in a rare moment for your species, people worked together to eliminate from the world through vaccinations and immunization.”

Patricia tried remembering what that could be, and then it snapped into place. “Smallpox.”

“Indeed,” the Imperator confirmed. “Your species made the disease extinct. Nearly. There are still two places where the disease has been preserved for research purposes. I had Quisilia and Sicarius acquire one of the samples, and at this moment it is being turned over to the Sectoids for some slight refinement and synthesis.”

“You want to release a disease which has no actual cure, _back_ onto Earth?” Patricia demanded.

“I am confident ADVENT can work to a cure,” the Imperator said. “And it will be an additional tool to force the independent nations to take sides. I have also ordered a cure of our own, one which would be a useful recruiting tool for Betos. I suspect an epidemic in China would require ADVENT intervention.”

“I’m not going to pretend like you don’t know the mortality rates for this,” Patricia said slowly. “You do. You really think ADVENT won’t figure out it was started artificially? You think the Battlemaster would also use this? It’s deadly to kids in particular.”

“The Battlemaster now has a useful role as plausible deniability,” the Imperator said. “He is the face of the Collective to your species. He does not need to be informed of these actions. ADVENT may suspect he is lying, but they will not be able to prove it. Aegis will also attest that such actions would be out of character. They believe the Battlemaster has the highest authority. This can be used.”

He moved the vial telekinetically to Patricia, which she delicately took. “We are agreed in the direction the war should take, Patricia, but I am curious what your own thoughts on this are. Do you consider the unification of Humanity worth sacrificing thousands for?”

“A very conservative estimate,” she muttered, torn on what to say. On one hand she knew what the correct answer for the Imperator was. But _was_ the unification of Humanity that important? Especially if it could be done other ways? But it also came down to efficiency, and an epidemic would quite possibly accomplish what armies could not, in a much shorter amount of time.

This was, ironically, not out of the realm of possibility for the Commander to consider. He’d murdered an entire state legislature and proxy assaults on civilians to keep a country from joining the aliens. He’d eliminated the Council and United Nations when they stood in the way of uniting Humanity. He’d always had the will to carry out choices that no one else would consider.

Now it was her turn to make a similar decision.

There would be at least one person who understood the decisions she’d made.

She looked directly at the Imperator. “I would do it,” she held up the vial to him. “For the greater good.”

He reached down and took it from her fingers, the vial looking so fragile between his own. “You did learn from the Commander,” he said. “I am impressed with your resolve.”

She felt similar to how she’d felt when she’d assisted in the destruction of the United Nations. Hollow and disjointed, the airy feeling of a dream, though it was all too real. But this time she’d been the one who’d made the decision, not one who carried it out.

Patricia was under no illusions what the Imperator was doing here. He wasn’t the one making decisions, she was. Against her own species, but she still couldn’t disagree that it was ultimately necessary. For the greater good. Was it different if she was making the same decisions in front of an alien than if she had done the same with the Commander if he decided the unification was proceeding too slowly?

Would she feel nearly as conflicted?

She didn’t know now. That worried her.

But she hadn’t been coerced into saying one thing or another. Every action and word had been her own.

“Why?” She finally asked. “Why are you keeping me here? Showing me things that you aren’t even sharing with your own kind?” She gestured to the globe. “I’d think you’d ask the Battlemaster his opinion before me. Why am _I_ special here…it doesn’t make sense…” she realized her voice had broken slightly at the end, but it couldn’t be helped. There were too many conflicting emotions going through her.

To her surprise, the Imperator lowered himself to one knee to be closer to her eye level. “That, Patricia Trask,” he began quietly. “You just demonstrated to me. Your resolve mirrors my own, something few other Ethereals possess. But the resolve is not enough, it must be used for the right reasons. Isomnum or Macula would have easily condemned the thousands to die as you have, but they do so for petty and destructive reasons. You did not do it because you wished to cause suffering, or saw it as the culling of the inferior, you did it because you believed it was _necessary_. That is rarer than you might expect.”

He paused. “You understand my goals, you understand the logic behind them, and you feel compelled to act on it. Your mind will not permit you to forget. You can see the scope and reach of what I propose; what I work towards; what I prepare for. You see, and do not reject reality, you do not make excuses or justifications to run, but you accept it…and question when you doubt. But that is not a flaw, Patricia, I would not accept someone who would not be as conflicted as you are. The choice you face should _not_ be one taken lightly.”

He stood back up. “And this is why I share things with you that my own kind are not privy to. Because you understand necessity in a way that too many others do not, and you do not make your choices based on logic or morality, but through this lens of necessity. And so I share my thoughts, and ask your opinions, because I value what you have to say, and want there to be no secrets when the time comes to choose a side. Sicarius is right. You cannot remain on the edge forever.”

“I know.” She said quietly.

“Did that answer your question?” He asked after a few moments.

“Yes,” she finally answered. “I think it did.”

***

_Command Center of the Battlemaster, Mars Collective Base - Mars_

_1/24/2017 – 1:00 P.M._

The Imperator wanted Earth conquered, and so it would be done. Though the Battlemaster was no longer as invested as he once was. Not only was there the threat of this Sovereign to contend with, but there were still issues in the Collective which needed to be addressed. And so he would address them one way or another.

Or rather, he already _had_ addressed them. But it would be a short time until the ramifications were felt. In the meantime, he was continuing his own research on Human history. Since the Humans were drawing inspiration from their past wars, looking to how they had developed the means to overcome the challenges he faced today could prove insightful.

The World Wars in particular were of interest, and he was rather impressed at the capabilities the species possessed when pressed to war. They clearly had not lost that advantage, although now had turned it on him instead of each other. But it also seemed like, in true ADVENT fashion, they were also looking to mitigate the weaknesses of the past.

What worked during the World Wars would not necessarily work today.

If nothing else, it was a fascinating history lesson, and offered a better look into the psychology of Humans. Although he did wonder how accurate that really was. Humans were a diverse species in thought and mindset. He didn’t know if he could really say for certainty what most of them thought like. There did seem to be some general constants, but few enough that there was plenty of room for diversity.

He shut down the holoprojector and went over to one of the consoles. The data cube he had filled sat on it, waiting for him to make a decision. The good news was that he had a way to carry it out if he wanted, thanks to the Zararch, but he suspected that the Imperator would disapprove. But at the same time, the Imperator was going to disapprove of his more recent actions, so one more, assuming he found out, wouldn’t hurt him more.

With that done, he could then focus on Earth.

While he stood in front of the blinking console, he did realize that he’d made his decision. Paradise was not something he would ever associate himself with, and he needed to make it clear, even if it gave the Humans another piece of propaganda against them. But the Imperator deserved such. If he wished to stand by his decision, the Battlemaster would force him.

“I suspect you are not going to do something good,” Quisilia said slowly from the entrance. He must have teleported in. “So is this something I should know about?”

“Perhaps,” the Battlemaster allowed the datacube to be inserted and read. “I was not expecting you.”

“Well, I _do_ pay attention to what happens in our little Collective,” he said, twirling one of his obsidian blades in his hands. “Not always on Twitter, despite what some people guess. And surprisingly, this includes military orders. You’re sneaky, Battlemaster…well, if you’re assuming that literally no one is paying attention to you.”

“If the Imperator wishes to countermand my instructions,” the Battlemaster allowed some satisfaction to creep into his voice as he sent the contents of the datacube away. “He can do so himself, although then I will sadly be forced to explain _why_ I felt they were needed in the first place. Which might reflect badly on him.”

“Let’s review,” Quisilia said. “You stopped the shipment of all alien test subjects to the Creator. Then you imposed a restriction on only using clones for physical experimentation and moving all Human captives to controlled worlds in Vitakarian space.”

“Yes,” the Battlemaster said, finally turning to him. “Using the captives as test subjects only gives ADVENT ammunition against us, and cloning is far more efficient. Simply take samples of the captives, grow an identical batch, and you can continue without the same issues. As for the Creator, I do not especially care if she is displeased.”

“The Imperator is more irritated with the fact that you did this without consulting anyone else,” Quisilia added. “Aside from those who support you in this. While you have done good things for the Collective, you should not be making these decisions without keeping _everyone_ informed.”

“Then the Imperator should take a more direct interest,” the Battlemaster said. “I only _have_ this much authority because no one else would take it.”

“And let’s not forget your little plan to get around alternate Gateways for the Creator,” Quisilia sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised Fectorian agreed to help you. You and him are of a similar mind on this.”

“I will let you know I did not shut down the Gateway,” the Battlemaster said. “And in fact, have provided additional protection for Paradise. Who are always on the watch for any threats.”

“The ships Fectorian sent are targeting and destroying anything that enters the system,” Quisilia noted flatly. “A curious malfunction.”

“Yes, a terrible mistake,” the Battlemaster also kept his voice emotionless. “I’m sure Fectorian will get right on fixing that. Maybe he could send some more in the meantime.”

“You are a very bad liar,” Quisilia said. “But I can appreciate your attempt here. But the Imperator does not exactly agree that your actions are conductive. Now, what were you doing before I came in?”

The Battlemaster considered simply refusing to answer, but he also knew keeping secrets wouldn’t help anything. “Informing XCOM and Aegis of Paradise. The Hunter’s confession and the multiple hours of footage from Yang’s armor within it. It exonerates the Collective from the Seoul attack and places the blame squarely on the Creator.”

Quisilia just stared at him. “Battlemaster…just…why would you do that?”

“So I can return to completing the mission I was given,” he walked over to the holotable projecting an image of Earth. “Conquering and assimilating the Humans. However, before I achieve that I need to ensure loose ends and issues in the Collective are solved. Paradise was one of them, and I have done what I can to solve that problem. Not an ideal solution, but now I can continue unhindered.”

“Do you _want_ the Imperator to think you’re trying to sabotage him?” Quisilia asked slowly. “Because that is very close to what is happening.”

“The Imperator can be insulated,” the Battlemaster said. “The Creator is the main perpetrator after all. But it would certainly reflect badly on the Imperator if he did nothing. If XCOM releases this to ADVENT, it is only a matter of time before the Andromedons and Sectoids see it. Questions would arise.”

“You know, if you hadn’t just told me everything I would think you’d actually picked something up from myself and Ravarian,” Quisilia sounded mildly impressed. “Well, I’m not sure how the Imperator is going to handle you now.”

“And are you going to tell him?”

“Depends,” Quisilia sheathed his blade. “If XCOM decides to release it, I won’t keep it to myself. It’s enough that he may take away your command. As it is you may be sharing joint command with another because he wants someone he can rely on handling the Humans.”

“He cannot remove me,” the Battlemaster said. “No matter what he says. I’ve been with the Collective too long to just reassign me. And for joint command…it would depend on who it is.”

“Undecided, for now,” Quisilia said. “However, it may be Isomnum.”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Just…it would be best for you not to fight the Imperator on _everything_ ,” Quisilia advised. “I’m not a particular fan of the Dread Lord, but he is effective in certain areas. Though I did mention that if he was paired with you he might end up dead.”

“A possibility,” the Battlemaster acknowledged.

“Look,” Quisilia’s tone turned serious. “There are a few divisions I’m sensing between our kind. Understandable and I can see both sides. But right now, the last thing we need is this kind of infighting. You think you’re right, and so does the Imperator, and both of you don’t know how to back down or compromise, and I doubt neither of you think you should.”

“Correct,” he stated neutrally.

“But this right now,” Quisilia waved a hand. “It’s not helping anyone. Neither of you are going away. Paradise and the Creator aren’t going away either. But I consider this bickering dangerous when there is an active _Sovereign One_ on Earth, which _is also_ not going away. Everyone needs to focus on killing it, and _then_ we can properly sort out what to do about the Bringer. And any other grievances you have.”

“The Imperator will not compromise on this,” the Battlemaster said. “Do you believe otherwise?”

“You are just as stubborn,” Quisilia shot back. “You’ve done what you can to express your views. But everyone needs to stop that and focus on Earth. The Imperator can end his vague threats, and you can stop trying to undermine his decision. For now, it should stand. Once everything is at a comfortable status quo, we figure this out _together_. As a species, not just with the Imperator.”

“Would he allow that?” The Battlemaster was definitely not convinced.

“He can come or not,” Quisilia said. “But you have a point that a decision like this shouldn’t be made unilaterally. The Imperator won’t make decisions like this without all of our input. So he can argue his point, and you can argue your own. We make a decision as a species one way or another. Compromised Ethereals like the Voice and Creator will obviously be excluded.”

That…did not sound unreasonable. “Assuming this is not said to placate me,” the Battlemaster answered slowly. “I think it is acceptable. Though the Imperator must agree as well.”

“I’ll convince him,” Quisilia promised. “He does not want you as an enemy or you to hate him, but he does believe he is right here. A good opportunity to reset everything, and I think he’ll be willing to participate.”

“As do I,” the Battlemaster said. “But his actions must back up his words.”

“Of course,” Quisilia agreed. “As it will be for you.”

“Then for now I’ll return my focus to Earth,” the Battlemaster said, moving to the holotable. “Go. I need to think alone.”

Quisilia exited the room quietly, leaving the Battlemaster alone in his thoughts.

A war was much easier to deal with than politics. He disliked that was happening now. He’d thought their species was above such things, yet here he was.

More proof that their species wasn’t as superior as some wished.

He sighed, and tried to focus on the latest reported ADVENT movements.

***

_SAS Command, Abuja – Nigeria_

_1/15/2017 – 4:17 P.M._

There was the one main problem that they needed to solve. Now that the previous leaders of state has been removed, and temporary replacements appointed in their place, the next immediate problem to solve was how to ensure that ADVENT didn’t come crashing down onto them. Keeping international silence would work for a time, but not indefinitely.

Macula apparently had a plan for this.

Betos frowned. “How feasible _is_ that?”

“Easier than you might suspect,” Macula was seated in front of a holotable which his own forces had established. “It is difficult to fully grasp the reach an Overmind has. A single portion of a planet is hardly a challenge to a telepath as strong as himself.”

The proposal, as Macula had explained it, involved two parts. The first involved an Ethereal called the Overmind telepathically securing the territory, and then performing weekly repeats of this telepathic observation, which would – according to Macula – go through the minds of everyone, perform cursory checks to ensure there weren’t moles or spies, and then inform Macula or herself of any problems.

Although Macula had said that it was also entirely possible that the Overmind would simply force any individual who was compromised to turn themselves in. With the Manchurian Restraints in play now, that was not as guaranteed since there was almost certainly anti-psionic measures. Such a measure seemed extremely inefficient, until Macula had further explained that the Overmind wasn’t limited to one mind at a time, but could go through hundreds in moments.

“If ADVENT _does_ have agents here,” Betos said slowly. “Then they’ll know something is up.”

“I’ve been doing this on my own in my spare time,” Macula waved a hand absentmindedly. “ADVENT _absolutely_ suspects something is wrong. I would force them to act as double agents, but unfortunately ADVENT was competent and programmed the Restraints to refuse to follow orders from aliens. ADVENT can keep sending agents, but they will keep dying. Which is why to keep ADVENT distracted, we’re going to have to do some of the work ourselves.”

“Meaning?” Betos asked, crossing her arms.

“You have a different role to play, Lady Betos,” Macula clarified. “I’m referring to my _other_ alien brethren. Since ADVENT has made it difficult to tamper with them, I believe I will have to employ the services of Quisilia and Nebulan’s Phantom Division. ADVENT, despite their propaganda, is not always a well-oiled machine. There are vulnerabilities we will exploit to keep their focus elsewhere.”

“Fine.” That seemed reasonable to her. If the aliens wanted to pull their own weight doing this, she was more than happy to oblige. “I think we both have the same idea for what to do next.”

The orange glow of Macula’s eyes seemed to glow brighter. “ _Yes_ , I believe we do. It is time the SAS establishes their own psions to combat the ones ADVENT has. There is little reason to deny your people this advantage.”

“Glad we’re on the same track,” Betos confirmed, feeling like they were finally making some headway. “Training may be an issue, however, at least initially.”

“Some shortcuts may have to be taken,” Macula answered. “But it can be worked around. With ADVENT blinded to our operations, we can fully begin the establishment of the SAS military properly.”

“With what facilities?” Betos asked. “It will take time-“

“On Earth?” Macula let out a low chuckle. “We are not limited like ADVENT or XCOM. The SAS has access to the foundries of the Collective. Your military can be upgraded within weeks, and your soldiers turned to the equal of any ADVENT has. What is needed from _you_ , Lady Betos _,_ is leadership and organization. This is, ultimately, your own organization. It is up to you to shape it into what you desire.”

Betos nodded. There was going to be some significant restructuring and appointing being done over the next few weeks. It was good that resources would not be an issue, at least for now. The Gateway infrastructure still needed to be built, but in the meantime the armor and weapons themselves could be put into production on alien worlds.

There was a nagging issue. “Satellite coverage,” she said. “Is that being handled?”

“Yes,” he said. “Satellites providing coverage over Africa are being subverted. Data being sent to ADVENT is monitored. That is under control.”

She was going to assume that Macula was telling the truth, as there was very little reason to embellish or lie. “There is also the matter of cities and infrastructure,” she said. “Both military and civilian. I expect there will be alien support for this as well?”

“Certainly,” Macula nodded. “Although…it would require a significant amount of external teams to elevate your cities to…acceptable levels. Before this, you must ensure that the populations are ready to have aliens around them. Once that is accomplished, the construction can begin in earnest.”

“I suppose it’s settled then,” Betos stood up and looked at the holotable. “I have a lot of work to do. You handle your end, and I’ll do mine.”

“That will not be a problem,” Macula also stood. “There is much to be done.”

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_1/28/2018 – 8:11 A.M._

Getting a wake up call from Zhang in the middle of the night was extremely unexpected, even more so when it was clarified that it wasn’t an immediate emergency. With that said, the Commander knew Zhang would not waste his time on something unimportant.

He had been correct.

For reasons that both the Commander and Zhang had yet to figure out, they had received a data cube through one of their own agents, who’d found it placed in his home, promptly decoded it, and immediately sent it back to the Praesidium. Inside it were several high-quality recordings, the first of which was the Hunter explaining who had _actually_ been behind the Seoul Massacre.

It had been the Chosen, as they had suspected. But the true orchestrator was the _Creator_.

Amazingly, it seemed like the Battlemaster had _actually_ told the truth.

And that had only been the first video. The others had shown, from the perspective of someone else, Yang Shuren, the Human Fiona had told them about, with the Battlemaster, in addition to Sana’Ligna and Shuren, originally going to Paradise to interrogate the Creator, and then it turning into a full and unrestrained battle.

They’d watched in near-amazement at the Battlemaster fighting the Creator. It was one thing to hear the testimony of Fiona and Axis on Paradise and the depravity they’d seen, but it was definitely another to actually see visual evidence of it himself. He knew there was still an element which couldn’t be transferred, mainly the presence Axis had reported, as well as other telepathic attacks, but that wasn’t strictly necessary here.

The Chronicler, Axis, and Aegis were also in the room now as Zhang finished explaining the overview. Any sleepiness the Commander originally had was gone. This footage was a gift-wrapped opportunity. _This_ was what they could point to as the Imperator allowing to happen, not to mention showing the clear discord that existed between the Ethereals.

“We haven’t determined who sent it,” Zhang finished, shutting down the brief clippings of footage. “But I would think the suspects are very few, and _all_ of them have extremely interesting implications.”

“I don’t think there is a question,” Aegis said. “The Battlemaster is the only one who could authorize this kind of information drop.”

“The one who, if I recall, is orchestrating the invasion of Earth?” The Chronicler shook his head. “Unlikely. That would be extremely devastating if it were the case, and the Battlemaster does not strike me as disloyal; not to the Imperator. This is intentional self-sabotage; Sana is the more likely culprit. Or perhaps Mortis.”

“I would not be surprised if it was him,” Axis said. The Zudjari’s eyes were narrowed. “This Battlemaster was highly displeased with what he saw there, and strikes me as one who would do everything he can to contest a decision he disagrees with. But I can only speak from personal experience.”

“This is correct,” Aegis said. “The Battlemaster has limits he will not cross. Paradise goes far beyond what he would ever tolerate. I suspect that in his eyes, sending this to us exonerates himself and the Collective, and heavily implicates the Imperator and Creator. Which tells me that the Imperator is not punishing her. This is his revenge.”

“But this could easily backfire on him,” Zhang noted. “We can do whatever we want with this footage.”

“I will note that, if I recall, the Battlemaster promised that the _actual_ perpetrators would be handed over,” the Commander recalled. “I don’t think he’d appreciate being called out on failing to fulfill that promise.”

“He could not have predicted what was happening,” Aegis pointed out. “It must have been the Imperator who forbade it. No one else could dissuade him from killing her.”

“I can work with that, regardless,” Zhang smiled. “All the world needs to know is that, ultimately, the Battlemaster is subservient to a master which allows this horror show to continue. His fault or not, he supports a leader which perpetuates it.”

“I do not think antagonizing him is the best course of action,” Aegis said slowly. “That he sent this at all is proof that his loyalty is shaken. We should not throw that away.”

“Forgive me, Aegis,” the Commander said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. “But I’m not especially concerned with hurting the feelings of someone who is _still_ a major threat to my planet. It was nice he sent that, true, but if his loyalty is really shaken he should be more public. Why not release it himself instead of using _us_ as a proxy?”

“Because the Imperator would more than likely silence him, as he attempted to silence me,” Aegis’s tone was growing frustrated as he continued. “Would you prefer the invasion be handled by Isomnum or Deusian? By someone who _isn’t_ as restrained as the Battlemaster has been? That is what you would accomplish by something like that. This is the best he can do while still retaining his position, and for the moment, he considers that more important than causing chaos in the Collective.”

“Not bad, when you think about it,” Zhang mused, making a short note on his tablet. “He uses us to discredit the Imperator, sends it in a way that _we_ would know immediately who it came from. We use it to further disrupt the Collective and shame them into acknowledging their actions. This can get back to the Hive Commanders and Unions, making them raise questions of their own. I agree with Aegis, the Battlemaster did this in the correct way, assuming this _was_ his plan.”

“Which raises the question of _how_ this is going to be handled,” the Chronicler noted, pacing the room. “Send this to ADVENT telling them to acknowledge the Battlemaster was telling the truth?”

“Frame it as a clarification, an update,” the Commander said. “The story just needs to be that the Creator orchestrated the attack, it was allowed by the Imperator, and that base and Ethereal are still in operation based on our most recent intelligence. Point out that the Battlemaster failed to come through on his promise. Don’t press it _too_ much, but make it a firm point. The media machine will do the rest.”

“Do you believe they should have the raw files?” Zhang asked.

“That’s up to ADVENT,” the Commander said. “But I would give them that, yes. Much more material to work with, even if traumatizing. Ultimately, whatever they do will work in our favor. The clarification that it was ‘merely’ the Creator behind it will be lost in the sheer outrage of the public once they see what _Paradise_ holds. Nothing much better to galvanize the public further.”

“This should also be sent to all known alien bases,” Aegis suggested. “It will be difficult to dismiss this as merely fake. I suspect the Battlemaster will not confirm or deny, and if someone _does_ deny it…he will have to correct them.”

“In any event,” the Commander said, rubbing his eyes. “I have some extra material to prepare for V’Zarrah. I think he’d be very… _interested_ in this. Maybe we can have Nartha get it to the Nulorian. Not that the Zararch would probably let that spread, but Miridian can at least make an effort.”

“I’ll have Jackson prep all of this to send to ADVENT,” Zhang said. “Your input was appreciated, Axis. You are dismissed.”

“I see,” Axis looked around. “But everyone else is staying?”

“We have more matters to discuss,” Zhang punched a code into the holotable. “Which is above your authorization.”

The Zudjari merely nodded, and exited the room with no further questions. “Since we’re all here, I’ll update you on several additional matters which have arisen. The first of which is this,” the hologram of a pyramid appeared, with some background text. “This was just captured in China-“

“Where did they _get_ that?” They all turned to the suddenly intense voice of the Chronicler, who was standing and fixated on the hologram in front of them.

Zhang shot him an annoyed look. “China, as I said. Apparently brought in by a worker, and the device seemed to make them act differently. Lose their minds to the point where they killed everyone in the building and held off PLA forces successfully enough that they reached out to ADVENT for help. The PRIESTs involved confirm that there _is_ some kind of telepathic emanation, and sent it to us since we, ah,” Zhang cleared his throat. “‘Specialize in the safe analysis of unknown alien materials and objects’.”

“Which means they don’t want this thing to accidentally kill whoever’s researching it,” the Commander noted wryly. “So instead they send it off to an isolated party with some experience in this. How thoughtful.”

“They are extremely fortunate they did so,” the Chronicler said in a low voice. “Those are Indoctrination Pyramids. Used by the Synthesized. Constructed by them to emit certain telepathic commands to assume control over, and dominate, other living beings. They can be tailored for any species, can be infinitely customizable, and what should concern _everyone_ here, are _directly_ connected to one of the Synthesized Primes.”

There was dead silence at that. “A Prime,” Aegis said slowly. “Would it still work if a Prime is destroyed or gone?”

“Destroyed? No,” the Chronicler shook his head. “It is…closest to the Sovereign Orbs. The Sovereign always maintains a connection to it, even if it is never a priority. Their minds are not as limited as our own, and a machine like a Prime could easily handle multiple streams of data at once. As far as it being gone…that is possible. Instead the Pyramids will be left as idle; traps for aliens to stumble across.”

“Or to use as traps,” the Commander added. “Aegis, are there any Ethereals who have found or research Synthesized technology?”

“Isomnum,” he answered without hesitation. “During the war he was a primary researcher of their technology, and was a proponent of using it against them. It would not surprise me to know this was continued, unless one of these Pyramids was originally found on Earth.”

“Fools,” the Chronicler hissed under his breath. “Every pieces of their technology is a trap for the gullible. The Pyramid could not have come from Earth, T’Leth would have eventually found it by now.”

“Even if it was shut off?” Zhang asked.

“Pyramids do not ‘shut off’,” the Chronicler clarified. “They execute new _protocols_ , some of which are dormancy protocols until it detects it is safe enough, or a new person enters the vicinity.”

“From what I’m gathering,” the Commander said. “You don’t want us to research this.”

“That is _exactly_ what I am saying,” the Chronicler stated. “That is what they _want_ you to do. Curiosity killed the cat and all. T’Leth can contain it somewhere safe.”

“Can it be researched safely?” The Commander asked.

The Chronicler just stared at him. “Did you just forget what I said?”

“No, I didn’t,” the Commander met his gaze. “I’m asking you if it can be done safely. We’re in a more…malleable situation with a Sovereign to help here, and I can see several different uses for devices which can send out telepathic commands on their own. Can it be done safely or not? Please make sure he doesn’t lie, Aegis.”

“Certainly,” the Ethereal acknowledged.

The Chronicler grimaced. “In _theory_ it can be done ‘safely’, which is in a controlled environment, overseen constantly by psions or a Sovereign One, with multiple safeguards to destroy the Pyramid, and isolated enough to not hurt anything or anyone outside the research vicinity.”

The Commander smiled. “Well, it just so happens we have a cooperative Sovereign, and we are also happening to build underwater bases which are fairly isolated from the majority of Humanity. So this is what we will do – you take the Pyramid for safekeeping. Secure it however you want. When a facility to the standards of T’Leth is done, research begins. Does that sound fair?”

“I’ll confirm with T’Leth,” he muttered. “But that would be…acceptable.”

“I’ll let Vahlen know about this development then,” the Commander said, picking up his tablet. “Do we have anything else pressing?”

“The list of agents to begin work in alien territory is finalized,” Zhang said, giving him a nod. “It just needs your review and approval. Chronicler, you should go over this as well. I want these agents sent over within the next week.”

“Just in time for our meeting with V’Zarrah,” the Commander commented. “I’ll get that finished by this afternoon. Also, I want you to get me some information about a certain individual.”

“Who?” Zhang asked.

“Someone interested in joining XCOM,” the Commander said. “Kane McTaggart. Subject Zero for the Phobos Project, and a curious individual. Someone who was able to wake up voluntarily from Isomnum might be useful here.”

Aegis shifted his helmet to look down at him. “No one can voluntarily awaken from the nightmares Isomnum projects onto his victims. Even psions will not recover if they have been compromised. This cannot be done without help and time.”

The Commander shrugged. “He did. Why do you think ADVENT was so interested in building a project around him?”

“It is unlike Isomnum to make such mistakes,” Aegis mused. “I might be interested to speak to this individual. Director Zhang, please forward what you find to me, as well as this Phobos Project.”

“I’ll do that,” Zhang said, standing up. “I’ll have a report to you tomorrow, Commander. I expect it will not take long to acquire the background of this individual. He’s not a spy or highly ranked. No major amount of red tape to cut through.”

“Alright,” the Commander nodded, giving a salute. “We’ve got work to do then, dismissed everyone.”

***

_Unnamed Planet_

_2/1/2017 – 12:02 A.M._

The world was bare and desolate, the moon of a nearby planet. How Fiona, or more accurately, the Chronicler had known it existed at all was a mystery. It was simply grey stone which rose into small mountains in sections while craters of all sizes marred the desolate rock. There was no atmosphere, and looking up revealed a planet covered in white clouds over deep blue oceans. A water world most likely, surrounded by the black maw of space; white stars glittering in the distance.

A beautiful sight the Commander had hoped to see one day. Preferably on the Moon of Earth, but this would suffice until then.

The Commander wore his Titan armor, which had been slightly modified to include a larger oxygen supply. He did not imagine that they would be in this place longer than four hours, but just in case he had brought additional tanks. “Nice place,” Jackson looked around the moon, her voice sarcastic. “A bit bland, but nice.”

“No one will find us here,” Fiona said, deliberately ignoring her sarcasm. “Now we just have to wait for our Andromedon friends to show up.”

“Which shouldn’t be too much longer,” the Commander said, looking at the clock on his HUD. “They are a prompt species.”

His words turned out to be correct as within ten minutes there was the blip of an alien spacecraft, clearly Andromedon, coming down to land. It was definitely smaller than any other Andromedon spacecraft he’d seen, but fitting the standard Andromedon aesthetic of harsh geometric architecture modeled around a rectangular body. It had a flat nose, no windows, no ‘wings’, but quite a few weapons placed along the sides and top.

It turned to its side as it landed before them, landing struts emerging from the bottom to set down gently. The trio began walking towards it, just as the door itself unsealed and a ramp extended to the ground. Out stepped a single Andromedon, V’Zarrah he presumed.

The Andromedon was also similarly dressed for combat. From what he had learned, V’Zarrah was perfectly capable of holding his own in a fight, and his suit was the absolute top of the line. Heaviest armor, chemical dispensers, micro-missiles, blast shields to go over the commonly exposed helmet, and rumored nano-tech offensive and defensive systems.

“You are the Commander of XCOM.” It was definitely V’Zarrah. No other Andromedon present would ask or know that, and the Commander doubted that V’Zarrah would share his plans with many others.

But it was also not a question. It was a confirmation. “Yes,” he answered, their voices seeming to be carried far on the dead moon. “You are V’Zarrah.”

“I am curious how you arrived on this moon,” V’Zarrah walked closer to them. “Your species is intriguing. Strong enough to hold against the might of the Ethereals, sharp enough to turn Zararch agents to your cause, and yet smart enough to realize that without _allies_ your war will be lost. And it all circles back to you, Commander. The cause of the Collective’s current issues.”

The tone seemed to shift. “An impressive feat. Few could do what you have done. For that reason I have agreed to this meeting.”

The Commander inclined his head. “And how much do you know about me?”

“I know that you have a history of determining the most efficient course of action,” he answered. “And then following through on it, no matter what others have said. I know that since you took command of XCOM, you have sought to prepare your species adequately. I have no confirmations as to the incidents around Germany, or the timely deaths of the Council and the United Nations. I do not have proof as to your own involvement in the creation of ADVENT, and the subsequent assimilation of upstart nations and territories such as Canada or the Middle East.” The voice turned to focus on the Commander. “But I have made my way through life seeing the connections, coincidences, actions, results, and the strings that bind them all together. You need not confirm your role, I already know it. And any being who can turn their species into their vision, by themselves or with help, is someone I want to meet.”

It wasn’t especially a surprise that V’Zarrah had been able to put together a fairly accurate picture. Someone with access to as much data as he had would find it rather easy. It also wasn’t surprising there was no condemnation, only respect. The Andromedons were a practical species. “But you want to meet me for a reason,” the Commander said. “As do I.”

“In that you are correct,” V’Zarrah said. “I have grown tired of the apathetic leadership of the Ethereals and their insistence on controlling the foundations of our society. The Federation itself is merely a tool to keep our species in line.”

“I thought it was the result of the Kett’Tasira,” Jackson interjected. “The Ethereals did not insist you follow-“

“The Federation was _temporary_!” V’Zarrah hissed, shifting his massive frame threateningly to Jackson who took a step back. “We are _not_ like the Ethereals. We are _not_ like the Vitakara or your own species. The Federation was meant to ensure our survival, it was _not_ meant to be anything more. And so our species continues to be complacent. We are not permitted to _act_ when action is called. The Federation has grown into everything our species was against. It is past time that it is destroyed.”

“And return to what?” The Commander asked. “A constant war that plagued your species for thousands of years? Is that better?”

“Through war we grew, we advanced, we _evolved,”_ he answered harshly. “We are not your people, Commander. I thought _you_ of all people would understand the necessity of not compromising your vision for your own species. Do you _really_ believe the Unions simply forgot the conflict that has persisted for generations? We _have not_. The Federation has been kept alive by the sole command of the Ethereals, and the Unions simply wait and plan.”

V’Zarrah spread a hand. “There are the alien loyalists, the cowards, the compromised, and the apologists of our species. Those have no place in our society, and they would have been purged long ago – or if they had proven stronger and smarter, they would have killed _me_. The Union Wars will not end until only one faction remains, and _that_ one will be the superior and worthy of leading the Andromedons into the future.”

“And thousands of years of wasted time and lives,” the Commander answered. “Restarting the Union Wars is not something I want to support.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, Commander,” V’Zarrah paused. “I agree in a way. I have learned enough to know that there are greater threats in this galaxy. Ones which require a united species. For you it was the Ethereals. For us it was the Kett’Tasira. I suspect we both know the machines what wiped out the Ethereals. Further conflict, while necessary, might prove our undoing. I do not intend to drag this war out, Commander, I intend to _win_ it immediately.”

A light shined from his gauntlet, and the images of the Union symbols of the Federation glowed before him. “The Federation can serve a purpose. If one faction acts quickly and decisively enough, they can be eliminated. As it stands now, none could act fast enough before the Ethereals intervene. However…if the Ethereals were focused on a larger threat.”

“You could strike,” the Commander finished. “And what, exactly, would be your own vision for your species?”

“Our species will grow and form into a galactic power,” V’Zarrah said. “One independent of alien influence and control, one which is capable of destroying all who oppose or threaten us. And one day, we will return to Andromeda and exterminate the Kett’Tasira from the galaxy. Too many of our kind believe we should simply move on, or that we should be more open to outsiders. We have now seen the results of _allying_ with aliens. And this galaxy is _not_ our home, and it never will be. It may be thousands of years later, but I will ensure our species reclaims Andromeda.”

The Commander nodded. “In that case we have similar goals, minus a return to Andromeda. We are not interested in interfering in alien affairs, and expect the same in return. However, I believe we can be allies…but no more than that. A mutually beneficial agreement, nothing more or less.”

“Yes,” V’Zarrah shut off the hologram. “Another reason I decided to meet you. Your species in particular understands the threat of alien domination. You understand better than most that outsiders should be treated warily at best…and allies watched closely and never relied upon. This galaxy will punish the trusting and gullible, we all use each other as a means to an end.”

“A more fatalistic outlook than my own,” the Commander cocked his head. “But we agree that reliance leads to apathy and complacency. Both our species must be able to operate independently, and anything else is extra.”

“I have a question now,” Jackson stepped forward. “Are you intending to emerge as the sole Union from any conflict, or are there others?”

“There are others who share my vision for our species,” V’Zarrah confirmed. “Ones I have known long enough to trust them as much as possible. If it was during the Wars, we would have merged into a unified Union long ago, but doing so now is…unwise. Unions Apear, Stuirah, and Zacarrim are allies in this.”

The Commander didn’t need to be psionic to feel the shock Jackson excluded. He felt almost the same way. Those were Unions which were fairly major. Apear were supposedly pariahs with everyone due to their work on AI, and Stuirah were the primary engineers of the Andromedon fleet. Zacarrim were a surprise, though mostly because they were extremely apolitical, even if there were no better cybernetic engineers.

“That is good to know,” the Commander acknowledged. “It just so happens that we have some projects of our own which would benefit from those kind of specialists. I would also expect you have expectations for us, in the event that you help us.”

“It is simple,” V’Zarrah said. “You assist us in wiping out the rival Unions, as well as the Sectoids. In return we assist in destroying the Ethereal Collective. We can provide you specialists for your own projects, as well as covertly funnel your people resources which are scarce on Earth. Both of our species will grow through this partnership.”

“In return for the small task of helping you wipe out half of your own species, and _completely_ wiping out another one,” Fiona noted. “Harsh, even for your own kind.”

“I am not negotiating this, Human,” V’Zarrah said to Fiona. “The Sectoids pose an existential threat to our species, and the Unions to be purged are a consequence of the rot which has taken hold in the Federation; that which will weaken our species as a whole.”

“Enough,” the Commander raised a hand. “The Sectoids will not be a problem. From what we know, they won’t give us a choice anyway. As for the Andromedons…it is our own species which is at stake here. If the Andromedons want to kill each other for their own greater good…that is their own decision, and here, we need allies in this war. Consider it a deal, V’Zarrah. You help us defeat the Collective, and we will help you take control of your species.”

“Excellent,” V’Zarrah nodded. “It is good to begin moving the pieces into position. I have waited for a day like this for a long time.”

“I also have this,” the Commander took a small case Jackson had been holding. “I think that you’ll find there is quite a bit of useful information inside it. Including how to contact us again. What you do with the contents? That is up to you. I will inform the Chancellor of our agreement, and next time you, or a representative comes, we can nail down specifics.”

“We will be in contact, Commander,” V’Zarrah said. “Good luck.”

“Appreciated,” the Commander smiled under his helmet. “I feel our luck just got a lot better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few things to mention here. The first being that artist TheBritWriter (Check his Deviantart) drew a piece for me which is based on the Ravaged One's Assault back on XCOM. So definitely go look at that if you want to see what one of the Ethereals in this setting looks like. Will probably be working with him again at some point, was pretty happy with how it turned out.
> 
> Second thing is that I've done some side writing for fellow author SLotH4's Shadow of the Phoenix series (in addition to being an editor as well), more specifically an addendum piece to his universe, essentially a kind of XCOM-Files type thing. This is for Star Wars for those who are unaware, and I recommend you check it out if you want to see how well I do something which isn't XCOM. I'm listed as a co-author in my profile, so you should be able to find it very easily if you go there. It'll be right beside my other stuff.


	43. Phantom

 

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_2/4/2017 – 10:12 A.M._

On one hand, this was going to potentially cause problems in ADVENT. The revelation that the Battlemaster had actually been telling the truth was…odd. In a twisted way, it _did_ make sense, as from the dossier both ADVENT and XCOM had compiled on him, authorizing a strike like that in Seoul was extremely out of character. But that had never truly been in question, what _had_ been was denying he didn’t know it at all, or that the Collective wasn’t behind it.

It would be easy to dismiss the evidence XCOM had provided as fake, but she knew that would just be denying an obvious truth. ADVENT would have to acknowledge that the Collective appears to have _not_ been behind Seoul, which led to the next problem of how to actually distribute the proof of that.

The Commander said he was in favor of the raw footage being sent to media companies to edit as they wished, since the only ones who would be harmed would be the Collective. She personally disagreed with that, as ADVENT needed to figure out their own statement on this before even thinking of giving it to the media, not to mention she wasn’t sure it was within the public interest to show even a portion of the sickness of _Paradise_ , redacted, edited or not.

Paradise itself, as well as this Creator, were a completely separate problem. There was an army there powerful enough to stand against three of the most powerful Ethereals in the Collective, and an unknown alien and Human of unknown psionic powers. If the Collective started using soldiers like _that_ against ADVENT, there would be problems.

However, the silver lining was that this whole operation was so secret not even most Ethereals had known about it, so there was a potential that these would never move beyond that space station. It didn’t change the fact that one day ADVENT was going to have to fight and destroy those things, but perhaps they didn’t need to worry about them quite yet.

That was mixed-to-bad news.

On the other hand, an alliance established with not one, but _three_ Andromedon Unions was perhaps one of the most uplifting things she could have heard. “The Union that produces their spacecraft is part of this alliance?”

“Union Stuirah,” the Commander confirmed. “Arguably the best designers of spacecraft in the known galaxy. Perhaps we can move past them some day, but for now they understand spacecraft _much_ better than we do right now. You can see the implications for Atlantis.”

“Yes, yes,” she nodded, concentrating hard. “However, I know that Elizabeth is going to have issues trusting aliens with what is our most important project; a concern which I share.”

The Commander surprisingly gave a small smile, as he shut down the holotable absentmindedly. “If there is any alien which understands your reservation, it is the Andromedons. I’m not suggesting we give them access to Atlantis immediately, but working with them to design our own spacecraft should be pursued. Their expertise can help us avoid mistakes we can make. More importantly, these Unions have a very good reason not to sell us out.”

“The Ethereals.” Saudia nodded. “That doesn’t mean we immediately trust them.”

“Of course not,” the Commander rapped his fingers on the metal. “But there has to be enough trust to make this work. Viarior has a stranglehold over the entirety of the lesser Unions, allied with Viarior or not. They have dozens of factory worlds and off-the-maps facilities. Their logistics networks are unmatched, and they have been planning for something like this for a long time. I would trust them not to screw up, if only because they’ll die otherwise.”

Saudia knew the Commander was moving towards his own recommendations, or more accurately, _more_ recommendations. “What do you have in mind?”

“Something to give us an edge,” he said, taking a file and sliding it over to her. She appreciated that pretty much everything related to Atlantis or the Andromedons he never shared digitally, it was always through a physical medium in an isolated and secured location. A paranoia she understood, especially now.

She picked it up, and began reading. It was not an especially _long_ document, but it was enough to keep her occupied for close to a half hour, mostly due to her reading part-way, and fitting that into the current war model. The Commander spent the time she read reviewing several of XCOM’s own reports, as Saudia had unconsciously sat down into one of the nearby chairs, with only the hum of the base filling the air while she read.

Saudia finally closed the file, looking back up at the Commander. “Assuming that by some miracle everything works out perfectly, and in the end we beat the Collective, the Andromedons will know an _extensive_ amount about our naval operations, strategies, tech, and tactics.”

A nod. “Correct. But do you see another way to build a functional fleet, train crews, and be able to hold our own without being smashed by the much larger and more experienced Collective armadas?”

“Having Andromedons train an officer corps is a risk,” Saudia pointed out, standing. “I don’t want our eventual navy to be reliant on what they learned from aliens. We should develop our own understanding of naval combat, because this,” she tapped the file. “Will give the Andromedons an advantage.”

“Nothing says we can’t do that eventually,” the Commander added slowly, crossing his arms. “But perhaps at a time where we _aren’t_ facing the threat of extinction. Time is of the essence here, Chancellor. We are not going to win this war without alien help, and that is a fact we need to accept. Will that put us in potentially vulnerable positions in the future? Perhaps, but if we _don’t_ then there will not _be_ a future. We are only as reliant on the aliens as we allow ourselves to be. That does not mean we can’t learn from them or accept that they _might_ have more experience than us in certain areas.”

“I’ll consult with Laura and Elizabeth,” was all Saudia said. “Moving past that aspect, having the Atlantis facilities function solely as shipyards is a good idea, with other parts being produced by the Andromedons elsewhere.”

“V’Zarrah suggested that,” the Commander said. “While it would definitely be suspicious if a factory started producing ships, a thousand factories over a hundred planets, from a dozen different Unions, producing small individual parts for various projects will not raise any alarms. If we can focus our production on assembly instead of that _and_ exclusive manufacturing.”

“The fleet can be produced in a fraction of the time,” Saudia finished. “And if we follow having the Andromedon train teams of officers, the moment the fleet finishes, we can launch our attack to take back the Solar System.”

A smile was what she received in return; a smile of calm confidence with a curious satisfaction in his eyes. “Exactly, Chancellor.”

Saudia had the feeling that there was more the Commander wasn’t telling her. She’d had the feeling for some time. The Commander was curiously not particularly concerned as much as he had been earlier in the war. Perhaps it was because things were falling into place, such as an alliance with the Andromedons, but that couldn’t just be it.

She wondered privately if they were in contact with another Ethereal wanting to defect. It would explain his attitude, and why he wouldn’t necessarily share it with her immediately. Perhaps this Paradise incident was affecting the Collective more than she thought.

Or perhaps he was just in a continual good mood now?

It wasn’t especially important. As long as they kept doing their jobs, the attitude of the Commander was unimportant. It did bring something to her mind, however. “Have you learned anything more about that pyramid?”

“Only that it’s very dangerous and alien,” he answered, the smile vanishing into his more typical neutral expression. “Aegis doesn’t recognize it, but believes it’s a precursor artifact of some kind recovered by the Ethereals. Perhaps Cogitian learned how to use it, although the current assumption is that it was placed by Isomnum or Sicarius to test it. We’re still researching it in an isolated location, it may be some time before we learn anything more.”

Plausible enough, that would explain how it came out of nowhere without bearing any resemblance to modern Collective tech, and this certainly fit the profile of Isomnum. It did make her wonder about the aliens who had made them though. There was always someone else out there, and even after they were gone, their legacy took far longer to vanish.

“We will be in contact shortly,” Saudia said. “AEGIS will be sent in a few days to establish something more formal with these Andromedons. Pass that along to V’Zarrah.”

“With pleasure, Chancellor,” he inclined his head in farewell. “Until next time.”

***

_Fort McMurray, Alberta – Canada_

_1/24/2017 – 9:34 P.M._

Showtime was coming, and Neil wanted to do this in an actual sheltered building rather than around another fucking campfire. And they could do that now, since the Inquisitors had neutered any kind of resistance the aliens could put up. Security was under ADVENT control. Military leadership was under their control.

ADVENT had successfully taken control of Fort McMurray, and it was time to fully liberate it. But not before the Sargon of the region was disposed of. It was time to take the required actions, which was why the Inquisitors and several of his soldiers were around a deactivated holotable. He didn’t care for the tech, not when paper still existed.

“We’ve set it up well enough,” he began. “So far forty aliens have been lost on patrols, and even more have recorded finding the bodies and bones. Morale of the rank and file aliens is low and they’re scared. Whoever’s idea it was to leave a meal of Borelian meat that one time, I want to personally commend you.”

“Thank you sir!” One of the men said, grinning through his beard. “Didn’t take it well?”

Neil held up a small stack of papers. “Got them riled up enough to actually send multiple requests to command demanding to know if Humans actually eat their enemies. We definitely spooked them. None of them want to go out on patrols anymore, so I say we all did our jobs very well, and our good Inquisitors also pulled their weight.”

Cycelea smiled, as did the other Inquisitors next to her. “Guess your purple space magic came in handy,” Walter grunted. “Fine. Thanks.”

“So far we’ve controlled outgoing reports to not make the request for help seem unexpected,” Neil continued. “But also not to a degree which would attract suspicion. Over the next week this will escalate. For the next week there will be patrols sent out and we will ambush and kill every other one. Make it seem to be a direct challenge to our target: Alberta-3.”

“Can’t believe they’re called that,” a woman muttered. “Dumb name.”

“They’re brutes, what do you expect?” Another man asked. “Surprised they managed it at all.”

Neil just raised an eyebrow at the rooms chuckling. “From what I understand, names are assigned. And I’m going to make whoever thinks a Sargon is an idiot eat Borelian meat for a week if they say that again. These aren’t regular Mutons, they’re smart; probably smarter than _you_. And even if they weren’t? We’re still going to treat this as if we’re killing a fucking Ethereal. Everyone clear on that?”

A chorus of affirmations and acknowledgements, and Neil gave a sharp nod. “Excellent. I’ve avoided burying anyone so far, and I’d like to keep it that way. So now for the heart of the matter – how are we going to kill Alberta-3?”

“Please don’t tell me you didn’t figure that out already,” Walter said. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Rhetorical question,” Neil sighed, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps bringing their resident wilderness expert wasn’t a good idea. Too late now. “Of course I have a plan, and if it’s bad, I’m sure you’ll say something.”

“You know it.”

“We don’t want to attract the Collective’s attention,” Neil said. “ _Yet_. So we need to kill the Sargon and make it appear to be an accident. That means that the killing is done off-base.” He noted some inquisitive glances, and raised a hand. “How we do that is through sabotaging his transport. While the Sargon is touring the base Cycelea and her team will convert whatever aliens are guarding the vehicle, and then plant a bomb on it. Time permitting, food and drink will be poisoned as well.”

“So it’s detonated on the way back?” A man asked.

“No, that makes it too obvious,” Neil shook his head. “Detonation will be done through one of his own. We’ll have multiple sleeper agents hopefully, and they will detonate the bomb the next trip the Sargon takes. That way if any suspicion appears, it will be in the wrong city.”

“What happens if the bomb is discovered?” Was the next question.

“Then the agents will assassinate the Sargon,” Cycelea said. “The Sargon _will_ die one way or another, but we’re going to aim for the best possible outcome, not just one that works.”

“Exactly,” Neil said. “Truthfully I don’t expect it to go off _that_ smoothly. For all we know he’ll come with mechanical soldiers or Sectoids or something we can’t subvert. But previous intel makes me confidant this can be pulled off. Worst case scenario, we kill him here. We have control over the military leadership and the Mutons will obey without question, even if it is against their own.”

“So what are we going to do during that time?”

“We’ll be in the city when he arrives,” Neil said. “Falia will suggest that Human shields are necessary. The Inquisitors, several of you, and I will be ‘randomly selected’ and accompany the Sargon out on his tour. If an Inquisitor or I gives a signal, we kill them. Otherwise we wait and listen. To further pull this off, one of us will be ‘captured’ and will be able to lead them into several ambush points which can be sprung if necessary.”

“You really want him to see all of this?” A short-haired woman asked.

“I do,” Neil said. “Assuming the best case scenario happens, the Sargon will inevitably write a report on what he found. I want any discomfort and fear to be spread. All the better if he blames it on rogue Humans and not ADVENT. I don’t know if it’s possible to unsettle a Sargon, but it’s worth it to try.”

“Question,” Allen, one of the other Inquisitors asked, raising a hand. “We pretty much control the entire scenario here. Why not capture the Sargon instead of killing him? We could learn a lot from it.”

“Too early,” Neil shook a head. “I agree, but it’s too early to do that. We’re not equipped to interrogate a high-value target like a Sargon out here, and we want to keep a low profile as long as possible. Once we kill a few more, and the Collective knows something is up, then we can capture the Sargons. But good that you’re thinking ahead.”

“So worst case scenario,” Walter spoke up. “Everything fails and the Sargon survives an assassination attempt?”

“Then we either kill the Sargon when he comes back to investigate,” Neil said. “Or we get out of the region and move on to the next target before an army is sent after us. Which is why when the Sargon leaves we have a very limited window to liberate every civilian in this town. Commander Christiaens has been informed of the strike day, and civilians will be evacuated using some new kind of dropship. Impossible for the aliens to not notice it, so they must be dealt with before that point.”

“Activate our moles?” A man asked.

“Precisely,” Neil nodded to Cycelea. “Overseer Falia orders the Mutons to kill every alien not under our control. The Inquisitors will take care of the Mutons when finished. We’ll restrain the aliens under our control, and let ADVENT command decide what to do with them. They want them, fine. If not we kill them and harvest some meat for the next journey. Worst case scenario we take out an entire alien base, and have automated reports that will be sent out over a period of a week.”

“Win-win,” Cycelea said happily.

Neil snorted. “We’re not going to settle for that. We are going to kill the Sargon _and_ liberate this town. Everyone clear on the plan? Because we’re not going to be meeting here again.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Glad to hear it,” Neil straightened up. “If any of you miss coffee and want to make some, go for it. It’ll probably be the last you have for a few more months.”

***

_ADVENT Intelligence Outpost, Brasília - Brazil_

_2/4/2017 – 11:49 A.M._

They were gathered again for a meeting which Jaylin figured was right before the day they were preparing to head out to meet the Argentinian representatives. In the meantime she’d gotten acquainted with the layout of the area they were going to be in, to prepare it for any ambushes as best she could.

Dr. Wepper wasn’t present, largely since he was still doing some research on his psionic tampering theory, but he said that he hoped to start doing actual tests within a few days. Jaylin had to admit she didn’t know if she’d feel better if there was, or wasn’t verifiable evidence of psionic tampering. Even if there wasn’t, she’d always wonder about it in the back of her head.

“Alright, everyone pay attention,” Abby said, tapping the table. “I don’t want to have to repeat this more than once. Tomorrow may likely be the first time we face the Phantom Division proper, and as such we’re going over the plan one last time.”

“We have acquired a team of sixteen Lancers,” Silvio continued, allowing a satisfied smile to appear. “In addition to a half dozen agents of ADVENT Intelligence. The agents will be disguised as civilians, and the Lancers will be in ordinary ADVENT soldier uniforms. We don’t want to tip off anyone we’re ready for a fight.”

“There will also be another Inquisitor monitoring the crowd,” Marco interjected. “He will be in communication with me or Protopriest Kil.”

“I will be similarly disguised,” Kil added. “And I will be monitoring the Lancers for any kind of psionic tampering. Should that arise, I will immediately let everyone know.”

“So I do want to ask one thing,” Jaylin cleared her throat. “It’s good that everyone will be disguised. But if we _are_ attacked, none of us are going to be in optimal gear. Definitely not enough to stand up against the Phantom Division if they’re as enhanced as you say.”

“Armor won’t matter to the Lancers,” Silvio shook his head. “By that I mean it’s not as important as they want you to think. They’re extensively gene-modded, you can shoot them and they won’t go down in a few hits. If they get their hands on weapons or get in close, the Phantoms will have a bad time.”

Jaylin coughed again. “I would like to point out that there are those of us who lack this kind of modification.”

“If we come under attack you’ll be protected,” Abby assured them, meeting her eyes which only showed confidence. “The focus will almost certainly be on me or the Priests. You and Leon will need to follow my own orders or those of the Priests. Don’t risk yourselves unnecessarily. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“On that subject,” Silvio continued. “There will be Lancer Executor weapons packed into the transports, along with several more of their favorite toys. We also got authorization to bring two SHIVs along with us. Illusions won’t work on them.”

“A shame we couldn’t get an MDU,” Leon chuckled.

“Considered it,” Abby said. “Sadly too noticeable and will _definitely_ put any watchers on guard.”

“Let’s continue with the plan,” Serena said.

“Yes,” Abby confirmed, leaning on the table. “We will travel in three armored transports. I will be in one, Protopriest Kil will be in another, and Inquisitor Tasis will be in the third. If we lose one transport, I don’t want to lose all of our Priests. Jaylin and Serena will be with me. Leon will be with Protopriest Kil, Silvio will be with Tasis. The rest of the seats will be filled with Lancers. The transports will be sufficiently stocked with weapons and gear.”

So she would be with Abby. Jaylin felt better about that. Even if Abby was not the most powerful of the group, she felt more comfortable than being in the transport with a psion. Besides, she had learned that Abby was a reliable and dangerous woman in her own right. Then again, as the marked leader, she was potentially more likely to be targeted.

“Upon arrival at the building, everyone will help establish a perimeter,” Abby continued, bringing up a small hologram of the layout. “Silvio, Serena, and I will go in and meet the representatives. We expect the talks to take several hours at least. During this time Inquisitor Tasis will be monitoring the meeting psionically, and Protopriest Kil will ensure that there aren’t any threats in the immediate vicinity.”

“After talks conclude one way or another, we will return in the same way we arrived,” Silvio said after a few moments. “And assuming nothing happens, we return here and figure out what to do next. This is if everything concludes without any sort of attacks.”

“If we are attacked, it will either be during the talks itself, or on the way to or from the location,” Abby said, the hologram now showing the route. “Nebulan seems to prefer isolation, so if we are attacked, it’s more likely it’ll be along the route. However, if she wants to be unpredictable, it may happen during the talks.”

“And if we’re attacked?” Leon asked. “Illusions will be a problem.”

“You let me worry about that,” Kil nodded to him. “That’s my job. To make sure any illusions are blocked or at least distorted enough for you to know they aren’t real. Kill the things that are living; which I expect the Lancers will also do perfectly fine.”

Leon just frowned. “I don’t mean to insult you, but are you sure you can defend against an Ethereal?”

Kil was silent, then pursed her lips. “I don’t know. The best I can hope for is to delay her long enough to let ADVENT know we’re under attack and they send reinforcements.”

“I will also be able to help,” Marco added. “Two telepaths are better than one. Illusions can’t kill either. If you all or the Lancers kill the real attackers, she won’t be able to do anything.”

“Aside from taking control directly,” Abby said dryly. “But I agree. If she loses her ground soldiers she’ll back off. And from talking with Aegis, illusions are most effective on the unshielded. Blocking them should not take much energy, and more importantly, if Nebulan wants to apply them to _everyone_ she’ll need to break each mind, which is more difficult and takes longer. And I will also be helping.”

“Right, you were a soldier,” Jaylin remembered she’d mentioned it once. “Guess you have experience with this.”

Abby gave a thin smile. “More recent than you think. I have a…specialized suit of armor. I’m letting you know so you don’t mistake me for an enemy if I have to use it.”

That didn’t especially surprise Jaylin, especially since she’d come from XCOM, who likely had more advanced armor than even ADVENT. “Sounds good.”

“Keep in mind we are assuming the worst-case scenario,” Silvio pointed out. “It’s very possible that Nebulan herself will not be involved and she’ll just send a team of Phantom Division operatives, if she attacks at all.”

“Exactly,” Abby confirmed. “Prepare as if we know she’s going to attack, but don’t be surprised if nothing happens. That’s a major part of what we’re trying to find out – who knows what. We’re going to learn _something_ important from this, and attack or no, we will have a much more concrete plan moving forward.”

She straightened. “Everyone get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a stressful day. Dismissed.”

***

_Borelian Wastes – Vitakar_

_2/7/2017 – 5:16 P.M._

The good news was that Miridian was taking an interest in him.

The bad news was that Miridian was taking an interest in him.

What Nartha had deliberately tried to avoid thinking of, despite the necessity of it, was that the vast majority of Nulorian were terrorists that almost everyone would universally agree would be better off dead. It was one thing to target the Zararch, or the military; that Nartha could understand easily enough, and it _was_ justifiable from a certain point of view.

But the Nulorian _were_ considered terrorists for very good reason. _Nothing_ was off-limits for them. Civilians were the most common, sabotage was another common tactic, poisoning, assassination, and worse. They also had a very barbaric tactic of capturing low-level government officials or soldiers and torturing them to death and sending them in untraceable messages. Not to the public, that was always blocked, but it did have the effect of making any Zararch who reviewed it uneasy, especially since much of the videos were scripted to provoke and enrage the Zararch agents they knew were watching it.

And these were still the best people to take down the Collective on Vitakar. Dealing with the monsters in the Nulorian was going to be an entirely separate problem, and he didn’t know how willing Miridian would be to any kind of concessions. Probably none, judging from who he’d sent to meet him.

“Cold?” The Dath’Haram asked him, a low droll voice which was misleadingly conversational. It was just on the edge of continuously amused, and more upbeat than the situation demanded.

“No,” Nartha stated in response. “I dressed well enough.”

The Dath’Haram simply showed his teeth in an approximation of a smile, as the snow flurried and dusted them in the fine white powder. “Zararch agents are always prepared, or so they think. I sincerely hope your friends also thought ahead. If they show up.”

Being in the presence of Nul’sorras’haramoalian was one of the most uncomfortable experiences he’d ever had in his life. The Dath’Haram moved like water, had a voice that would put most at ease, and was half a head shorter than himself. A very unthreatening individual, had Nartha not known he was also one of most infamous terrorists in the entirety of Vitakara history.

He was one of the Nulorian who was known throughout the Zararch – and openly accepted it. The debates had raged on if Sorras was actually insane, or if there was a much greater meaning or message to his attacks. He'd exclusively attacked the Dath’Haram his entire life, killing men, women, and children without mercy. Schools were rigged and bombed, families were slain in the middle of the night, and even Bladedancers had been executed by him.

Nartha had not failed to recognize the golden-trimmed hilt of a Bladedancer sword. No Bladedancer would ever part with it willingly; they would rather die first. Which meant Sorras had killed a Bladedancer, though by what means were up to debate. Although, when was he ever going to have the opportunity to interview the most infamous known terrorist in the Nulorian?

“That blade,” he indicated the sword. “How did you kill him?”

In a one-second flourish the sword was in the hand as Sorras looked at it with pride. “Ah, you’ll have to be more specific, Zararch. I’ve killed three of those Bladedancers, and each one in… _different_ ways.” He fixed his glistening eyes on Nartha. “I presume you want to know if I beat one in combat, or if I used less savory means.”

“I’ve been curious,” Nartha said slowly. “You have quite a reputation.”

“One I’ve done my best to maintain,” he said smugly, letting the blade tip sink a hair into the snow. “The first one I killed in combat, sword-on-sword. They called it an assassination, but it’s in the nature of the Zararch to lie. It was isolated, but there were some witnesses. After I ensured they wouldn’t run off, I fought the Bladedancer.” His tone turned almost longing. “Skilled warriors they are. Ones who won’t answer a threat with _pacifism_.” He spat the last word. “I eventually won, obviously. Broke his sword and displayed the corpse. I foolishly thought that might get my spineless race to actually do something, but no.”

He paused for a minute, and they both listened to the snow being battered around in the wind.

“I’d proven to myself I could kill a Bladedancer on their own terms,” Sorras finally continued, sheathing the sword slowly. “I had no reason to repeat the process. I slit the throat of another in her sleep and took the blade I’d rightfully earned the first time. The third stepped onto a mine I’d laid. I suppose it just proves that if not in a duel, Bladedancers are not hard to kill. That’s the truth, Zararch. I presume I’ve answered your question.”

“Completely,” he said neutrally.

“Mhmm,” he hummed knowingly. “You don’t like me, do you?”

Nartha figured Sorras would understand honesty. “If I didn’t need you, I would kill you.”

The Dath’Haram simply nodded. “I don’t expect you to like me, or understand. But I think you will eventually. You impress me, Zararch, regardless of your personal feelings. Any of our kind who can break the conditioning we grow up in, especially in the Zararch…that is commendable. It is no surprise Miridian has begun to recognize that you were no mole.”

Nartha grunted. “And what does it take to meet him?”

“Soon,” Sorras promised. “Sooner if you were telling the truth about the Humans who can transverse to our world. I am skeptical, but that is why Miridian sent me. He knows I will tell the truth of what I see.”

Nartha checked the time. “We’re just entering the timeframe for arrival. Knowing XCOM, they will be here soon.”

Sorras just nodded and then sat down cross-legged on the snow as they lapsed into a silence that stretched out over minutes. He barely felt the cold, either because of his clothing or because he had blocked it out of his mind. It was dying down slowly, and the sun was beginning to set. Then there was a sudden blue-green flash and a group of armored soldiers suddenly appeared from nowhere.

Sorras was immediately on his feet, and Nartha already moving to greet the group. XCOM must have upgraded their armor, because the soldiers before him were in suits that were much larger and bulkier than the Aegis-class armor. A very noticeable upgrade, in addition to the plasma weapons they wielded. Although, as he took a closer look, some of the suits were a _little_ slimmer and sleek, and there was Fiona in her stony armor, sword still attached to her back.

“We made it,” she said, motioning the group forward. “Hello Nartha. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Not too long,” he answered. “Glad you made it.”

“So,” the armored form of Shun said, looking around. “This is Vitakar?”

He smiled. “Yes, though not one of its most scenic locations.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, reaching up to take off her helmet, and shaking her hair free. “I’ve seen worse views.” She stepped forward and pulled him into a quick hug, which almost caught him off guard but he recovered in enough time to embrace her armored form. Not especially comfortable, but he could look past that.

“Greetings, Humans,” Sorras said, stepping forward and giving Nartha a curious look. “It appears the Zararch agent wasn’t making this up. Miridian will be very interested in this. Who is the leader?”

“Me, right now,” Fiona said. “Fiona Dorren, although when I’m not around, it’s Agent Jarvis.”

“We can make more formal introductions out of the cold,” Sorras answered. “But first I will introduce myself as Sorras, one of Miridian’s best and most trusted operatives, and rather infamous to the Zararch.”

Which was putting it very lightly, but Nartha could correct the record in private. XCOM needed to know that Sorras wasn’t necessarily someone they should treat as a close ally. “Let’s move in,” Nartha said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

***

_Zararch Command, Collective Mars Base – Mars_

_1/26/2017 – 12:11 P.M._

For the first time in a long time, Ravarian was pleasantly surprised with something the Ethereals had done. Granted the reforms by the Battlemaster were needed changes on the whole, though he was not especially clear on why he was restricting usage for the captured Humans and taking some kind of internal revenge on the Creator, who he was still not clear on what had happened in her Blacksite.

What was the point of transferring Human captives off-planet and not utilizing them? Was it some bizarre development of a conscience? Was it some kind of justification for transferring to clones? Mildly irritating, but nothing he could do and Quisilia had essentially said to accept it. Well, it wouldn’t stop the Transference project, although given his new directive, perhaps he should hold off inserting the conditioned Humans immediately.

“What changed?” He wasn’t _completely_ expecting an answer, but he did want to know the sudden shift in mindset. Especially from the Imperator.

Quisilia looked up from his phone, Fluffy curled up around his feet. “I suspect you will not like the answer.”

Ravarian narrowed his eyes to slits. “I’ve had to deal with answers I don’t like for some time, I can hear another.”

Quisilia put the phone away. “Our esteemed XCOM guest. She agreed with it.”

The Ethereal was partially right. Part of Ravarian did _not_ like the answer, the other part was surprised she had given one at all. “She _agreed_?”

“Yes.”

Ravarian waved an arm. “Why?”

“Because Miss Trask is, at her heart, someone who understands the mindset of the Imperator and his goals,” he answered. “Rather remarkable, yes, and I think he’s convincing her that they have very similar goals for her species.”

That was…unlike anything Ravarian had heard. It struck him as profoundly _wrong_ that the Imperator was successfully turning the most powerful Human psion to his side, and if Quisilia was to be believed, without using his own extensive psionic abilities. Words alone. It did not seem natural or right. It was unnerving.

He was no interrogator or negotiator. He was direct, skilled, and intelligent, yes, but his skill was not in convincing individuals to give up their secrets, or necessarily playing a role. He could act, true, but he was not a natural. He could never sway an enemy to his side with words alone. He could make offers, threats, and other kinds of coercion, but oration was simply not something he could master.

But the Imperator could not only turn one to his cause, but a psion and XCOM soldier for good measure. People with that capability unnerved him more than psions, assuming that the Imperator wasn’t using them already.

He pushed that aside, and focused on the part he _especially_ did not like. “Why, exactly, are we basing our operations on the opinions of an XCOM soldier, who I will note, is not actually on our side?”

“Her influence is limited,” Quisilia dismissed. “And I suspect the Imperator would have approved this operation regardless. But having her approve it? It will assist in the Imperator convincing her to turn. A win for all involved, as far as I am concerned.”

Ravarian sighed. “In which case, we should begin the infection points. If China is a target, we could likely infect anyone in a major city and watch it spread immediately.”

“A possible issue is that it will arise _too_ fast,” Quisilia pointed out, telekinetically raising the cat at his feet into his hand instead of reaching down. “China could quarantine a city immediately.”

“We bypass this by infecting an individual in an airport,” Ravarian clarified, bringing up a holomap of China. “Preferably one with flights to Africa. This will spread the virus internationally. I would prefer to avoid having more than one patient zero, because ADVENT might become _immediately_ suspicious otherwise.”

“You assume they won’t blame this on us?” Quisilia asked dryly.

Ravarian snorted. “Of course they will. But I wish them luck definitively proving it. One patient zero is a fluke. If several pop up at once that is clear evidence of some kind of targeted distribution. And smallpox is something which could _theoretically_ arise naturally, as Humans stopped vaccinations for it years ago.”

“I presume those vaccinations are still useful?” Quisilia inquired.

“Sectoid estimations believe they will be,” he nodded, remembering the report. “But they will only be useful in preventing a spread. It is not a cure, and their stockpiles of the vaccines are low. It will take time for the world to adjust. I suspect ADVENT and parts of Africa will be able to mobilize fast enough. China should be devastated, which weakens the country severely. All according to plan.”

“And we have the cure to give to Betos,” Quisilia finished with a satisfied breath. “I suspect ADVENT will wonder how she developed this, but they’ll be too busy with the outbreak to fully pay attention to her or the SAS.”

Ravarian frowned. “I would attempt to keep this quiet as much as possible. That might be what pushes ADVENT to attack her, and right now, it is too early.”

“True,” Quisilia agreed. “And can it spread to Collective species?”

“No.” Ravarian shook his head. “The virus appears to not affect alien life whatsoever. Not unless there is a concentrated effort, all Collective species are immune to the disease. Our own forces will be safe.”

“We will want to time the virus to launch with an attack,” Quisilia mused. “In the meantime, we should begin the creation of a plausible patient zero. Nebulan could perhaps assist in acquiring us a useful subject. Perhaps someone recently from a remote location; South America or Africa, where he was exposed to smallpox and unknowingly brought it back. Yes, this could work.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” Ravarian nodded. “I also think that Nartha should be terminated soon. We have acquired useful information from him, and I do not want a double agent running around the Collective, especially now.”

“I haven’t checked up on him in some time,” Quisilia noted. “I’ll do a final extraction, bring back what I learn, and we can determine the best method to remove him. Though I will confess he is not a recent priority. One double agent cannot do anything when cut off from Earth, and rebellion within the Collective is completely out of the question. Any plans he can conceive of can only be executed after years. Hardly an immediate or pressing concern.”

“Agreed,” Ravarian said. “But my point stands.”

“We will deal with Nartha after China,” Quisilia said. “Until then, keep him confined to a place where he has limited influence. Vitakar is good. He will only have the Nulorian for company and not a group which is actually dangerous.”

“I’ve done that already,” Ravarian answered with a nod. “He won’t be a problem.”

***

_Isolated Location – Argentina_

_2/4/2017 – 8:18 A.M._

One day.

Volk sipped from his cup of water as he listened to the ambient silence of his room. Elena was still sleeping, and wouldn’t wake up for a few minutes yet. He’d forgotten how nice it was to have a modern and clean room to live in. Normally he and his crew lived in conditions much worse than this. Granted, if the aliens hadn’t known how to construct an entire facility in a remote location over a short period of time, he would have wondered as to how advanced they really were.

But they had come through, and now everyone was happy.

Now came the first part of what Volk was considering to be a long, drawn out campaign. The assassination of an XCOM Intelligence agent would draw attention, as well as the attack of an ADVENT convoy. No matter how it turned out, the heat was going to be turned on them, and he was curious both how ADVENT and XCOM would respond, but also Asaru and the Phantom Division.

He heard the bed rustling and glanced over to see Elena on cue sitting up and moving to get dressed; no sign of morning fatigue as usual. “Morning Elena,” he called. “Sleep good?” No response, which meant that she had. If she hadn’t, she would have woken him up in the middle of the night. But he still considered it polite to ask, and he knew some part of her appreciated it.

As she changed, he pondered what he would do if he had a clear shot at Abigail. Asaru wanted her alive, but he wasn’t sure that it would be safe to risk capturing her. By all accounts she was a dangerous operative, and one underestimated XCOM at their own peril. If it came down to it, he would kill her if he had the chance.

Well…not quite. Wound her first. If things were heated or going south, he could kill her.

Elena walked out of the bathroom and straight for the griddle as she had every morning since they had actually set up stoves and brought in ingredients. She was already dressed for a mission, minus the mask and hood down. He gave a short cough as she walked past him. “Elena?” She paused, and looked to him. He pointed at the plate opposite his. “I made you breakfast already.”

She didn’t immediately ignore him, which was a…good sign, and slowly walked over to the table and looked down at the plate of pancakes. Stacked three pancakes high, each layer buttered, and topped with an extremely generous helping of powdered sugar, they were to Volk, perhaps the unhealthiest iteration of a classic breakfast he had ever seen. But Elena loved them for god knew what reason and would never eat any other kind of pancakes.

He held in a sigh of relief as she sat down, looked over the meal closely, shot him a suspicious glance, peeking under one of the layers to make sure he hadn’t put syrup under it (a previous attempt he regretted after Elena had dumped out all of syrup in retaliation), and satisfied, began eating it. Well, it was better than her throwing it away and making it again the _exact_ same way.

Stickler for details, she was. But part of her lovable charm. Even if he screwed up on something like pancakes, she’d let him know it just wasn’t acceptable.

He let her eat in silence for a few minutes, letting his mind wander back to the upcoming operation. They knew that the entourage was going to have support. He was _expecting_ at least some ADVENT special forces, they had to anticipate there might be an attack, but perhaps they’d bypass it with just standard soldiers because of a numerical advantage?

Possible. It was unlikely _all_ of the estimated dozen soldiers would be Lancers or Dragoons. Then again, it wasn’t known just how much ADVENT _knew_ about the situation. This could be them testing the waters, or it could be they were laying a trap of their own. Two sides of intelligent enemies playing mind games. He was honestly very curious to see how this would play out.

Elena stopped eating, her eyes focusing on him. “This is good,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

An ecstatic _Yes!_ went through his head and he smiled. “Knew I’d get it right some day.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, and ate some more. “I will not die tomorrow.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” she said, continuing to eat. “I will not die. You do not need to worry.”

Oh, he saw where she was going with this. Stupid of him to think she wouldn’t notice the timing of him making something innocent like breakfast and the potentially lethal mission the next day. “Call it an unfounded concern,” he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t want to have any regrets.”

“We are prepared; we possess numerical, tactical, and psionic superiority,” she listed off. “ADVENT psionic assets have been identified. XCOM Agent has been identified. Route is known and planned. We possess advantage in combat; snipers will engage at long range. Safety in distance.”

“Like I said,” he repeated. “Unfounded concern. But…I don’t know what to expect. This will be different than the first time.”

She had finished the pancakes, and was swirling the fork around the loose powdered sugar and getting what she could from it. “ADVENT soldiers most effective when prepared and engaging in medium-range environments. Psions occupied by Asaru. Phantom Division possess technical edge over ADVENT. Isolated location prevents immediate reinforcement.”

“Alright, alright,” he held up a hand in mock surrender. “You made your point. Still won’t feel better until it’s done and we’re both back here.”

“Yes, we will both come back here,” she pushed the plate forward slightly and tapped it with her fork. “You will make this again for me. More sugar next time.”

He gave a mock sigh. “Understood Elena.” She gave a rare smile in return, though only for a moment. “Come on,” he stood. “Let’s make sure everything is ready.”

***

_Library of the Temple Ship – Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective_

_1/25/2017 – 1:00 P.M._

It was indeed a whole new world which had opened up to him. It was almost difficult to believe that just over a week ago he’d been stuck on Earth and resorting to forcing a woman at gunpoint to awaken the power within him. But he had succeeded, and now he resided in what he was quickly finding to be the most fascinating place in the galaxy.

Ironically enough it wasn’t a planet, or even the Temple Ship itself, although that came with its own kind of wonder, but the Library, one run by the Ethereal Cogitian. Ivan was personally shocked that so few people were bothering to explore this vast wealth of knowledge within this room. It wasn’t just digital copies of books either, but physical records, artifacts, and other things which he couldn’t even begin to recognize.

Adding to the mystique was that fact that, sadly, the vast majority of records were in Ethereal Script and not English. Which wasn’t unexpected; had the Ethereals had their records in English it would have raised a substantial amount of questions. The CODEX System was going through and slowly translating things into all known alien languages, not just English. But he wanted to learn the language himself, and in the meantime Cogitian had helpfully gone to the trouble of translating a few general documents he felt would be interesting.

And they most _certainly_ were. While he was certainly no historian, nor had previously had much interest in Human history, there was something that drew him to the various alien species, and the old Ethereal Empire in particular. Perhaps it was the alien factor, perhaps it was because he was one of the first Humans to know of it, or perhaps it just drew his attention.

In any case, it was fascinating to see a radically different culture develop and grow, until it ultimately collapsed around them. History seemed to repeat itself well beyond Earth. No matter the power one faction had, eventually it would collapse for one reason or another, even if it was one hundred years old or one thousand. It wouldn’t necessarily die forever, but it would be changed.

The Ethereal Collective was the change of the Empire. Time would tell if the Imperator learned from the mistakes of the past.

He suddenly _felt_ something in his head, which meant that there was someone else that had just come into a room. He was still getting used to that. Telepathy was still a new and odd sensation, and at some times threatened to become information overload as his brain unconsciously picked up every thought, emotion, and fired neuron in whoever he had interacted with, presuming they hadn’t protected himself.

The Overmind had taught him a way to suppress it without it being too overwhelming, but spikes would still happen whenever someone new came by, and he wasn’t expecting it. In fact, one reason he enjoyed the library was because very few people _did_ come by. Still, he wanted to know who it was who came by. They’d likely been here longer than him, and he knew there were at least a few more Humans around. He might as well meet them-

His eyes widened as he caught sight of who it was. Impossible, this must have been some kind of telepathic trick. Ivan carefully set down the Ethereal tablet, shook his head, and looked again. Nope, it was still the same person. Leaning back in his chair, he wondered if it was a clone or some strange lookalike.

Because why the fuck would _Patricia Trask_ be _here_?

If it wasn’t her, then she must have had a twin. He’d seen her several times on the television, and the media had liked to use her as one of the poster girls for XCOM and the war against the Collective. Yeah, he definitely knew her face, even if she was out of her armor and wearing some silvery outfit.

Didn’t look bad on her though.

The chestnut-haired woman suddenly perked up, then looked over to him and Ivan felt the presence of another telepath probing his outer defenses – which unfortunately were not exactly that great. _This isn’t good at all_.

And there she was, walking over to him. She stopped a few feet away, and leaned on one of the display cases, looking at him with her piercing eyes. No question that it was her. “Do I know you?”

Ivan snorted. “Unlikely. But you might be surprised how many people know about you, Patricia Trask.”

Her lips curled into a humorless smile. “So I see. And I suppose you didn’t expect me to be here.” How she ended that statement made it very clear it wasn’t a question. One she’d probably heard before.

“Can you blame me?” He asked. “Aside from the Commander of XCOM, you’re the last person I’d expect here unless as a prisoner.” He paused. “Or are you?”

“No,” she answered neutrally. “I’m free to leave whenever I want.”

There was a short awkward silence. He coughed. “If you don’t mind my asking…”

“Because I can’t yet,” she said, looking away. “I’ve…learned things here. Things which are…important. I have to make my next decisions very carefully. No, I can’t tell you why.”

That had…not been the answer he had been expecting. Although he wasn’t sure _any_ answer would adequately explain her situation. But she didn’t necessarily appear to be completely on the Collective’s side, which was also an interesting development. “You’re new here,” she said after a moment. “We haven’t met.”

“Ivan Smirnov,” he inclined his head. “Formerly defense attorney, formerly unemployed, now training under the Overmind as a psion.”

“The Overmind?” She cocked her head. “Interesting that he’s found his own trainee. Seems a lot of Ethereals are getting them.”

“Including you?” He wondered.

She sat down in a nearby chair, staring off into space. “I’ve wondered. Maybe. Unlike you I didn’t come by choice.” Her lips twitched. “Well, technically I _did_ come by choice, though one where there wasn’t any actual option.”

Kidnapped then. That made a lot more sense than her defecting. Although what was keeping her here was a question he didn’t know an answer to. “Odd that you’re still here, no offense.”

“Trust me,” she said dryly. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know if I have some kind of Stockholm Syndrome where I don’t want to leave, or if the Imperator is really affecting my mind. Just excuses though. I’m not going to blame someone or something else for my own choices, Imperator or not.”

“You’ve spoken with the Imperator?” _That_ was different. Had the Imperator wanted _Patricia Trask_ to be his…what? Apprentice? Trainee? Speaker? Well, whatever he planned, he certainly didn’t aim for the average individual.

“Many times,” she said. “It’s…illuminating. You’ll understand when you meet him.”

“When?” He gave a little laugh. “I’m not expecting to. Not for a while anyway.”

“I think you will,” Patricia said seriously. “He will make a point of it soon.”

“We’ll see,” Ivan said. “What did you come in for, anyway? This isn’t usually a populated place.”

“Research,” she said. “Theoretical psionics. The Empire had a lot of them, even if most never really pursued it further. Maybe there’s something to them. Ethereals can become stagnant over time.”

“Well, good luck,” he said, picking up his tablet. “There’s almost too much for me to find. Not to mention I can’t read half of it.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Ivan,” she said, standing up. “I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

***

_Project Phobos Research Facility – Washington D.C._

_1/30/2017 – 3:54 P.M._

The dossier on Kane had not exaggerated just how _big_ the man was. He was actually bigger than Creed, which the Commander found somewhat impressive. He certainly had the physique to be an XCOM soldier, and the skill if his records were anything to go by. The Commander was curious as to how he hadn’t been selected for special forces, though that could be due to his age. At only twenty-three and with unresolved anger management issues, perhaps he’d been deemed too much of a risk.

“I expect the Ethereal told you about me,” Kane said. “Did he have anything interesting to share?”

Interesting to share? That was...one way to put it. “Aegis has never encountered anyone quite like you,” the Commander answered carefully, wanting to only share as much as necessary at the moment. “Your experience and recovery was not something he considered to be possible, and your reaction to psionics is also...unique.”

Which was leaving out how it was the first time the Commander had heard Aegis sound uneasy. He had said that Kane had the mind of an unsound man, yet who still retained himself. A man who lived in constant mental fury and torment. Aegis had advised “caution” when deciding what to do with him. Something that the Commander planned to take into account.

Kane grunted and replied coldly, though with the slightest hint of amusement “I don’t blame him for thinking that, no one should have been able to survive that with their mind intact. Who knows, perhaps I didn’t.” Kane paused for a moment, appearing as though he was looking through the Commander, through the world around them, his mind elsewhere. “Tell me Commander, do you believe in Hell?”

The Commander had an inkling of where he might be going with this. The dossier had mentioned that Kane had been raised in a religious family. Based on how Isomnum operated, it was quite possible this was related to what he had experienced. He fixed the man with a firm gaze. “No. Not in the context of religion.” He allowed a brief pause. “Sometimes I wish I did, but I cannot say I do believe in such. I am not exactly what you would call a...religious individual.”

“I see; understandable, neither did I, not really anyway. While my parents believed; _still_ believe,” he corrected quickly. “I began to doubt. As a child I was frightened, that’s what the point of it was, to scare me, to make me obey. But as I grew older I put it behind me. At least I thought I did.  Then _he_ showed up…that’s when I learned the truth. Hell is real, but it isn’t something so simple as a physical place, no, it’s a state of mind.”  

“When you say _he_ ,” the Commander interrupted, wanting to confirm his suspicion. “You mean Isomnum?”

“Yes, Isomnum, the Dread Lord as he calls himself.” He gave a short, bitter laugh, his eyes still unfocused and looking elsewhere as he responded. “The doctors said I was only out for a few weeks. If only. No, for me I was there years, decades maybe, in a hell of _his_ and, as I know now, _my_ imagining.”

There was a momentary silence, before Kane leaned forward, his voice dripping with intensity. “You see, that’s what they get wrong. We create our _own_ hell, Commander; in _our_ minds, in the shadows we dare not tread, we build it brick by brick with every thought we push away, every forgotten trauma, every hidden fear, it all goes there. And when _he_ appeared, when the world went _dark_ , it was waiting for me.” He stated, finally meeting the Commander’s gaze.

The Commander shifted in his seat, eyeing the man with a cautious curiosity. If nothing else, this was perhaps the most accurate insight into the effect Isomnum caused in his victims. They _knew_ how the Ethereal used his powers, but every time the victims were too far gone to acquire an _understanding_ of what they endured.

Until now.

“But you still managed to beat it,” he said to Kane. The exact details of what he had endured were personal, and the Commander didn’t have a desire to pry, but the process by which he overcame them? That he wanted to know. “How?”

Kane was silent, his face impassive, his mind once more seemingly in a far off place. “It’s...hard to explain in words. I don’t know if anyone who hasn’t been there can truly understand. “

“Try,” the Commander asked.

 Kane thought hard for some time before slowly, haltingly, he posed a question. “Tell me, what do pain and fear mean for you?”

The Commander frowned. “Elaborate. In what context do you mean? What I’ve personally experienced, or the words themselves?”

“For humans, or life in general, what is the point of it? Have you ever asked yourself that? Why we feel them at all?”

In truth he really hadn’t. He’d accepted those as realities of life long ago, and didn’t see much of a point in asking questions he knew couldn’t be answered. “Not especially. Pain serves as a warning to us, fear as well. Information we can use to either help inform our choices...or let it dominate us. Those are just parts of life. Does there _need_ to be a deeper reason to exist beyond biology and evolution?”

“No, that’s enough for the moment. I’m not the smartest guy around, but from my experience I came to a similar conclusion as you did. They taught us how to deal with fear and pain in boot camp, tried to anyway, the rest we learned in the field. I get the feeling you were military before all this, or at least received combat training. Not sure what branch but you’ve obviously seen action, so you probably know what I’m talking about. Pain is the body warning us of danger, telling us something is harmful, it hurts so we don’t put ourselves in danger again, ideally at least. The same is true for fear, but with the mind.”

Kane looked at his hand and spoke. “If you touch a hot stove it burns, that makes you pull your hand away. Then you fear that, you avoid making the same mistake in the future, that way you stay alive and healthy. It’s all to keep us alive. But what if you are in pain, what if you’re afraid, but can’t do anything about it?”

He looked back at the commander and with just a hint of anger in his voice continued. “What if you can’t escape the pain? What if you can’t escape death? What if you can’t do anything? You can’t run, you can’t hide, you try fighting but it just results in more pain, even worse sometimes, and then you go through it all over again, because death isn’t the end anymore. Instead of freeing you it just starts the next nightmare. It’s all pointless, all the fear, all the pain, you can’t stop it or do anything about it.”

                With his anger growing more and more apparent Kane went on. “What purpose do they serve then?”

The Commander gave a single nod. “In that context, nothing.”

“Exactly!” He slammed a fist onto the table. “Nothing! Not a damn thing! In that moment it only exists to torment you, as a tool make you suffer! And at my lowest point, when my mind was in tatters, my body mangled beyond recognition and experiencing things no human could possibly survive, it all became clear.” 

Kane’s anger subsided for the moment but he resumed speaking shortly. “It didn’t mean anything. Pain, fear, death, nothing at all. It certainly wasn’t changing anything about my situation, and just like that suddenly things...changed. Like a fog was lifted from my mind and everything was clear. In that moment I remembered why I was suffering. Who did this to me, and just like that I knew what it was I had to do. I felt angry, furious, like you wouldn’t believe, fear was gone and pain seemed far away, still there but also somehow not.” 

Clenching his fists hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he looked down at them, Kane’s eyes were now hidden in shadow beneath his brows. “So I attacked. Or tried to at least, I think my guts were spread all around a room at the time, each being tortured by a different being. Demons, aliens, both? Hard to say. I died, again, but when I woke back up I didn’t run, I fought.”

“From that moment on I never again cowered, never again ran, if they came for me I would fight back, if they broke my arms I would kick them, if they cut off my legs I would bite them, if they broke my teeth I would bash my head against them over and over, so long as it was possible to fight back I would, and when I died I’d do it all over again.” A bloodthirsty grin ripped across Kane’s face as he recalled what he went through.

“At first I failed, over and over and over again.” He said, waving his hand now in small circles.  “But eventually I started to win, it was slow going but I managed to kill some of my tormentors, not Isomnum, or the other two, not yet, but the lesser manifestations? His minions? The lowly servants?  I could kill them just fine. Then I kept going, and when something died, it didn’t come back again, but _I_ did.”

The Commander cocked his head, noticing something that hadn’t been mentioned before. “The other two?”

“His overseers, those second only to him, the two he came to save back in D.C., the Battlemaster and the Warlock.  In my nightmares they served him, reported directly to him, protected him and carried out his will.  It wasn’t always one of them or Isomnum torturing me, hunting me, but I always knew they were out there somewhere, always knew they were responsible.  Somehow.”

Hm. It might be a problem if Kane put the Battlemaster on the same level as Isomnum. Especially around Aegis. That would be something to watch for, though the Commander didn’t know if that outlook towards him or the Warlock could be changed based on what he had been through. “And you eventually killed all of them,” the Commander finished. “That was the solution. Once that was done...you woke up.”

“Yes, the very thing meant to prolong my suffering was the key to my victory, because I never truly died. I could continue to throw myself at them as many times as it took, and it took a lot of tries, for all of them. First the Warlock, then the Battlemaster, and finally Isomnum. As I beat him into a bluish pulp with his own limbs and at last crushed his skull I woke up, and found myself in what looked like a hospital bed, tied down and stuck full of tubes.”

At last leaning back in his chair and seeming to relax Kane finished his tale. “At first I thought it was a trick, another nightmare. They had to sedate me several times before I figured something was different and actually tried listening to them. I was free, I hadn’t escaped Hell, I’d conquered it, all my fears, all the pain, everything, it was over. I _killed_ it all. Unfortunately this also meant I’d failed.”

His story was certainly one of the more interesting ones the Commander had heard. He was impressed that throughout all of that, Kane had managed to retain his sanity. At least enough to hold a calm conversation. Perhaps he still wasn’t quite right mentally, only a telepath would know, and all he could sense from Kane at the moment was an intense resolve. But he _seemed_ , at the moment, to be stable enough.

“Thank you for telling me that,” the Commander said. “I’m not sure even I would have been able to overcome a similar situation, nor would anyone else. You did though. But you want to join XCOM now, not return to ADVENT or keep assisting in the Phobos project.”

The Commander rested a forearm on the table, maintaining eye contact. “You could likely join the Lancers with your skills if you feel you’ve done all you can for Phobos. But you specifically want XCOM. Why?” He did know the answer Kane had given to Saudia, but was curious if he would elaborate on it more.

“Like I said, I failed. They’re _still_ alive!” He growled, his hands gripping the table so hard they looked about to bleed. “What happened to me isn’t unique, I’m just the only one to come back on my own, and while I’ve done as much as I could to save the other victims not all of them made it. They weren’t the first casualties of this war, not his first victims, and they won’t be the last. It won’t end, not until those responsible pay.”

He was getting angry again, and breathing heavily. “They must die. Isomnum, the Warlock, even the Battlemaster, them and the rest of the Collective, only then can there be peace for us. So long as that monster, no, that _creature_ lives no one is safe. That is why I am asking you to let me join XCOM, the Lancers are good, damn good, but they don’t fight Ethereals; they can’t handle them, but I can, and XCOM _does_ fight Ethereals.  More importantly, you kill them.”

Sitting up straight and after a few moments once more seemingly calm, he looked straight at the Commander, his eyes hard and his face set. “That is why I want to join you. They took everything from me, they have innocent blood on their hands and until they are defeated this war will never end. Let me help you Commander, let me have my vengeance. It’s all that is left for me. You’ve read the reports, I’m immune to telepathy, or damn close to it, Isomnum has no hold over me anymore, and he never will. I have a better chance of running into Isomnum or the others with you than with anyone else and if you let me I will end them.”

“I’ve done all I can here, they have everything they need from me and at this point I’m little more than a third wheel. There’s no one else from the attack that can be saved either. This is the last thing left to do. Maybe if I kill them for real the last few soldiers will wake up, but I doubt it. At the very least the ones who didn’t make it might rest easier, and no one else will ever need to fear the Dread Lord again.”

He had the right mindset for fighting an Ethereal, the Commander couldn’t disagree on that front. But XCOM wasn’t composed of one man armies, and the soldiers within it needed to be reliable. On _that_ front, he was unsure how well Kane fit, if he did at all. “You’ve made your case for why you want to join. I can’t disagree with it. What I need to know is how _reliable_ you will be.”

 “I don’t have a use for lone wolves and one-man armies,” the Commander said, lacing his fingers together. “I give my soldiers freedom in how to carry out my orders. But I _expect_ that these orders _are_ followed, as well as those of my Squad Overseers. Joining XCOM, there is a chance that you will not fight Ethereals. If you saw Isomnum, and you received a direct order not to engage, what would you do?”

Kane frowned and looked down at the Table between them as he considered his response. “I can’t think of any reason to spare that filth so I’m going to assume what you really want to know is if I will follow orders or act on my own, am I correct?”

“Correct.”

Looking up from the table to meet the Commander’s gaze Kane answered.  “Before my...encounter with Isomnum I was a soldier, had been for years.  I was trained to follow orders, it was drilled into me, because when soldiers act alone or disobey there are consequences.  For them, for the mission and for the men fighting beside them.”

“Joining XCOM would mean I report to you, and if I got sent to the field I would report to the Overseers. If I went rogue I’d become a liability, that’s what your worried about. The truth is I’m not entirely sure what I would do, I have no desire to endanger my allies or the mission, while my immediate goal is vengeance against those three I am fully committed to victory in this conflict.”

Kane let out a rare sigh in frustration, the gears in his mind furiously turning. “If disobeying you or the Overseer meant putting others needlessly at risk, or posed a threat to the mission or even the war...I would like to think I could put my own goals aside. I would like to, but if you put me in a room with him right now and told me not to hurt him I do not know what I would do.”

The Commander was not completely surprised to hear that. An honest assessment of what he might or might not do was a point in his favor. It was far better than lying to himself, and if Kane had said the _opposite_ of what he had just stated, he would be suspicious. “I see, and had suspected as much. I can’t have someone who would put his own priorities before the mission, no matter how much they were justified.”

He leaned back in his chair. “That being said, I think there may be a workaround for your own situation. If you come to XCOM, we can make you tougher and stronger than you were before. But you would also receive the Manchurian Restraints to prevent you from endangering a mission or soldiers. It would not be as restrictive as our psions, but considering your unique circumstances, I feel it is warranted. I do think you would be an asset in XCOM, Kane, but only if I know you are reliable.”

                Kane grimaced as he considered the offer. “You’re asking a lot of me, I’d be trusting you with my own mind, I just escaped from one mental prison and now I find I may need to submit to another. All for the chance to kill those bastards, unless you decide I can’t.”

                “Yes,” the Commander said. “To protect XCOM and others in case you are not yourself. And if it makes you feel better, I do this to everyone who might pose a risk. Granted, not for the same reasons as yourself, but my psions, own Internal Council, and even myself are under the Restraints. Not common knowledge, but I don’t make exceptions for anyone, myself included.”

He was clearly debating things internally, weighing his options and trying to decide what to do.  After minutes of silence, punctuated by occasional grumbling and muttering before he seemed to come to a decision.  “And if I agree to this...you will let me fight for you?  Give me the chance to end those scum?”

“Yes,” the Commander answered. “I will.”

Another pause occurred before Kane set his expression and looked the Commander in the eyes. “I do this for you then I need to know you’re serious. One thing I will _never_ do, Manchurian restraints be damned, is surrender or allow these bastards, this “Collective” to win. Are we on the same page here?  I want them crushed and this Imperator of theirs _punished_! Along with everyone else who was behind this war.  I will give up everything, _suffer_ anything, for this. Are you prepared to do the same?”

“I can promise this much,” the Commander said slowly. “We will defeat the Collective and kill the Imperator, or die trying. There is no other acceptable outcome.”

“Then I agree to your conditions, when can I start?”

“Immediately,” the Commander said, standing up. “I’ve ensured that you can return to the Praesidium on the Skyranger with me without delay.” He extended a hand. “Once we arrive, R&D will figure out how to begin applying the Restraints and gene mods. Welcome to XCOM.”

Kane shook the proffered hand firmly and gave a single, resolute nod in response, before turning away to gather what little he had in his quarters. Then paused briefly and asked. “One last thing, you have information about them right? On Isomnum and the rest, along with everyone else in the Collective that matters, including combat footage?”

“Yes, we do,” the Commander confirmed. “Some of it is classified, but combat footage, information, and basic dossiers on the Ethereals and aliens is available to everyone. If you want to research yourself, it will be open to you.”

“Yes, that should be enough, thank you sir.”

“Excellent,” the Commander said, and after a few minutes allowing Kane to gather his few belongings, walked out of the room, with the newly christened XCOM soldier close behind him.

***

_Borelian Wastes – Vitakar_

_2/8/2017 – 7:11 A.M._

The outpost was quiet for the moment, with the other XCOM agents sleeping and their armor and weapons stored safely away. Having now gotten a closer look at the Titan and Warden armor as it was called, Nartha was almost jealous that he didn’t have a suit of his own. Although fortunately they had packed equipment for more clandestine operations.

Though if Sorras had anything to say about it, the strikes would soon be very loud.

For now though, Nartha and Shun were largely alone in the quiet morning, this being the first time they’d had to talk without anyone else around. Shun wasn’t in her armor any longer, though it was cold outside and even chilly in the outpost, so she was somewhat bundled up in socks, pants and a sweater.

To help wake and warm her up, he’d made her a classic Zararch Morning Stimulant.

Judging from her expression, she did not like it. “You don’t like sweeteners do you?”

“Doesn’t need any,” he took a drink of his own stimulant. “Anything else would dilute the purity of the mixture. Wakes you right up.”

Shun set her cup down. “Oh, I _definitely_ believe that. Once I tasted it I definitely woke up.”

“Ha ha,” he said, wishing rolling his eyes would be even seen by Humans. “I’ve taken this for years. Morning Stimulants work, trust me.”

“And why is it called a ‘Morning Stimulant’?” She lifted a hand, making air quotes. “You couldn’t even come up with a name for it?”

“I hardly think your species is in a better position,” Nartha pointed out smugly. “You just call yours ‘coffee’ which I will note is just the name of the plant.” He smirked. “‘You couldn’t even come up with a unique name for it?’”

Shun just looked at him, and without breaking eye contact, downed the rest of the Morning Stimulant. “Cappuccino, latte, mocha, affogoto, espresso; go ahead and tell me we call _coffee_ all the same thing.”

“I don’t understand half of what you said,” he answered. “What were those?”

“Kinds of coffee drinks,” she elaborated. “All of which are different, I might add. And on Earth, we refer to ‘coffee’ in the generalized sense. I guarantee if your species was in charge of naming coffee, it would be ‘coffee type 1’ and ‘coffee type 2’ and so on.”

He blinked. “What’s wrong with that?”

She seemed to find that very funny. Shaking her head, she answered. “Technically nothing, I guess. But it’s not exactly creative, is it? Not very unique or memorable.”

“Yes…” he was not sure he wanted to engage in this topic. “I believe that we have a different standard of naming conventions. At least you will never be confused if you see something labeled by my species. I would never have known what a capochi-capacina-“

“Cappuccino,” she supplied.

“Yes, that,” he accepted. “I would not have known what that is if you didn’t explain it. How do you know so much about coffee anyway?”

“Half that stuff even non-coffee drinkers know,” she snorted. “And I had a friend who was a big coffee drinker. Always kept wanting me to try new stuff. I spent way too much money at Starbucks,” at Nartha’s confused look, she added: “Coffee place. Very popular, even in China.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I wished I had spent some time in Human restaurants. If only to compare the difference.”

“Oh, how are Vitakara ones?” She asked, resting her forearms on the table.

“Very high-quality and formal,” Nartha explained. “People only go to them for special occasions. Birthdays, gatherings, birthing announcements, that sort of thing. Likely less than Humans tend to go, if I recall some of your species tendencies.”

“Yeah,” Shun gave a smile. “Humans don’t really need a reason to eat out other than that’s what they feel like. Yeah, it’s for special occasions too, but that isn’t it the majority of the time. Anyway, moving on from food and coffee, I’m wondering something.”

“What?” He asked.

She grew noticeably more serious. “The Commander gave all of us access to documents on the Nulorian. They aren’t exactly…”

“Terrorists,” Nartha supplied. “That’s what we called them in the Zararch, and it hasn’t changed.”

“And Sorras…”

“I know.” Nartha paused for a moment, releasing a sigh. “Not exactly people I’m comfortable enabling, especially now that I’ve begun thinking about it more.”

“Is there no one else?” Shun asked. “You made contact with the Hierarchy, yes?”

“A representative, but the Hierarchy is too embroiled in their own problems to focus on a unified resistance,” Nartha said. “It’s a start, but it will take time for anything to develop. The Nulorian _are_ the best option we have. The best we can do is hopefully keep them in check.”

Shun rested her chin on a fist. “What about the Sar’Manda? No one seems to have looked into them.”

Nartha cracked a smile. “Are you kidding? The Sar’Manda told an entourage of Ethereals to, borrowing a Human expression, ‘go fuck themselves’, metaphorically speaking.”

“Which is good?” She pointed out.

“Not if you know a lot about them,” Nartha explained. “The Sar’Manda do not care about anyone outside the Empire. They could care less who wins this conflict. They could care less if the Aui’Vitakar existed at all. If half the species killed themselves in a war, they wouldn’t think about intervening. _Isolationist_ is being generous, and they only bother to maintain trade and their place on the Aui’Vitakar as a formality, and half the time their members don’t show up for voting.”

“Still,” Shun said. “I think we should at least look into the Sar’Manda. What do we have to lose?”

“We insult the Manda’valrain and he orders our execution, or turns us over to the Zararch,” Nartha answered. “The Sar’Manda _despise_ being told what to do by someone else.”

“Aren’t there Sar’Manda in the Nulorian?” She pointed out.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Nartha reminded her. “One of the first ones I met was an Oyariah. Plus Dath’Haram. It’s not surprising a Sar’Manda would also join at some point. Honestly, Miridian would know more about the susceptibility of the Empire. But don’t get your hopes up for that.”

“I hope Miridian is reasonable,” Shun said, standing to go fill her cup with plain water. “I don’t think the Commander wants terrorists deciding how to run the next Vitakara government. And if AEGIS is going where I think they will, there may be two competing counter-governments.”

Nartha blinked. “What?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t have heard,” Shun sat down. “The Vitakara defectors have been working with AEGIS.”

“As in…the Ethereal?”

“The, ahem,” she cleared her throat. “Alien Emissarial and General Integration Service. Diplomatic branch between ADVENT and alien governments or parties.”

“Makes sense,” he nodded. “And they’re…doing what with the Vitakara?”

“Nothing so far,” Shun said. “But Zhang’s said that they’re working on establishing an independent Vitakarian government. Opposing the Aui’Vitakar.”

Nartha whistled. “The Zar’Chon is going to _hate_ that. Although I’ll be honest; ADVENT being involved so closely makes me question its…legitimacy. It is better than the Aui’Vitakar, but I don’t want another puppet government.”

“I don’t think it will be that,” Shun assured him. “The Commander wouldn’t allow for that, and I don’t think Saudia will either. In any event, it hasn’t even been announced yet.” A short banging interrupted them, and Nartha stood and moved to the door where the knock came from. A quick look outside confirmed it was who he hoped it was.

Unlocking the door, Sorras stepped inside. “Good news for you, Zararch,” he bared his teeth. “Miridian wants to speak personally. To you and this XCOM Commander. The teleporter too. Two weeks.” He looked to Shun. “Inform him at your leisure, Human. Miridian is giving you plenty of time to make this work.”

“And what do we do until then?” Nartha asked.

“We are going to _plan_ ,” Sorras said, his voice hungry. “For the first time we are in striking distance of the puppets who have enslaved our species. Now we will prepare to burn it all to the ground.” He alternated glances between the two of them. “And this time, we will succeed.”

***

_Palace of the Argentine National Congress, Buenos Aires - Argentina_

_2/5/2017 – 1:13 P.M._

“I can assure you, representative,” Director-General Nesto Al Sadd said. “Argentina has had no contact with any radical anti-ADVENT terrorists.”

Well, she would know from that question if he was lying or not, assuming the Inquisitors were doing their job. But in the meantime, Abby was content to let Serena do most of the talking. The Argentinian government had at least sent only high-ranking officials to speak to them, such as the esteemed Director-General of Argentina’s intelligence arm, the Foreign Minister, as well as the Minister of Justice.

 _He is telling the truth,_ Marco telepathically told her. _At least as far as the question was worded._

A good start then. At the very least they would be able to get a very clear idea of who, if anyone, was involved with alien infiltration. “Unsurprising,” Serena said seriously, briefly inclining her head. “We had suspected as much, as it would be a curiously risky decision with ADVENT on your border. I am sure you are well aware how seriously we take the alien threat.”

“Abundantly,” Foreign Minister Charro Milani said, still eyeing the trio with guarded suspicion. “We are well aware of how ADVENT treats those who they view as an inconvenience.”

“ _Threat_ , Minister Milani,” Serena smiled. “A threat. If it was merely an inconvenience which drove ADVENT policy we would be fighting other countries as much as aliens. We simply do not have time to hunt down everyone who perpetuates lies and propaganda against us.”

The three men clearly did not particularly like her from that, and each of them were no doubt wishing to be anywhere but here. There was a clear power disparity in the furnished room they inhabited. The Palace was extremely luxurious, certainly the nicest place Abby had ever been in. It was probably common for diplomats though, since she imagined they rarely interacted outside these controlled environment.

“Regardless of the word choice, the answer remains the same,” Al Sadd repeated. “We have no contact with the kind of groups you say.”

“How certain of that are you?” Abby interjected, speaking for the first time since the introductions. “We are aware that ADVENT is not looked upon with fondness in this country. Is it possible that officials could be in contact with these groups and hidden it from one or all of you?”

“No,” the Minister of Justice, Timo Herrera shook his head emphatically. “No officer or individual within my department would ever work with a terrorist. We enforce the law as is dictated, we do not support terrorists in any capacity, whether they perform actions we are sympathetic to or not.”

Abby was inclined to believe him. Marco soon confirmed this.

“Director-General?” Serena asked pointedly.

The man was slightly hesitant to answer. “I do not believe so.”

 _He does not believe that,_ Marco informed. _Press him._

“You do not believe so?” Serena said. “So you do not know?”

“It is unlikely.”

“That is not a denial,” Silvio noted. “Compared to your colleague, it sounds like it is a possibility, albeit a small one.”

“All I can tell you is that I would be highly surprised and disappointed if any of my people were involved in such activity,” Al Sadd said. “But I operate on the assumption that there is always the chance of something, even if it is unlikely. This is a case where I can safely say that it is _extremely_ unlikely, but I cannot discount the possibility entirely.”

_The chance is higher than he lets on. I do not think he is involved though; he will likely investigate after this meeting._

In which case it might be time to reinforce this potential suspicion. “There is another possibility, representatives,” Abby said again. “The reason XCOM has taken a direct interest in this matter is because there is a very high likelihood that there are not just aliens behind this terrorist organization, but an Ethereal.”

All three of the men visibly reacted. It was subtle, mostly a few blinks or they stiffened, but it was there. Apparently that possibility had not occurred to them. “An _Ethereal_?” Herrera said incredulously. “Are you certain?”

Abby reached down to her bag and pulled out a thin file, which had been prepared for this very question. “You tell me. Not just an unknown Ethereal, there is a very specific one we believe is behind this.” She slid the file across slowly to the Director-General. “It is not out of the question that this Ethereal is coopting individuals telepathically within the Argentinian government, and quite possibly without your knowledge.”

“Do you have proof that this is the case?” Milani asked. “Your claim is substantial?”

“That they are doing this to Argentina?” Abby asked. “No. If this is within their capability to do? Absolutely, and the proof comes from one of their own. Aegis, who is familiar with the capabilities of this Ethereal. Using a disenfranchised terrorist organization as a front to expand alien influence in the region would be standard procedure for her.”

They gave the men a short time to read over the short file, which included a description of the first attacks on Peacekeeper bases, a dossier on Nebulan, and finally had a comparison between the attacks and known capabilities of Nebulan. _None of them appear to be involved. If collaborators exist, they are low-level or all of them have been affected by her. I do see any indication of tampering. The questioning would have revealed anything strange._

She exchanged a short nod with Serena who’d received the same thing. This was ultimately good news, since alien efforts in the region were not as developed as they had feared. It _did_ raise the question of what the Phantom Division and Nebulan were actually _doing_ , but now that they could largely rule out government influence, at least of any substantial measure, they could perhaps narrow down where they had gone.

“We will need to discuss this matter internally,” Al Sadd finally said. “Psionic influence is something we need to account for to ensure that there are not any attempts to artificially create a conflict between us. We do not want conflict with you, representative, and with this new information we will work to ensure it remains that way.”

Serena nodded. “That is good to hear. ADVENT would, of course, be willing to help determine if any of your people have come under psionic influence.”

“How?” Al Sadd asked slowly. “We will not allow psionic interrogations of our agents.”

“Nothing so drastic as that,” Serena said, pulling out another beige file. “There are much simpler methods.”

Abby knew she wouldn’t have much input once Serena started on this topic, which was fine. They’d learned what they needed to. Now it was a question of what Nebulan would do next.

***

_Fort McMurray, Alberta – Canada_

_1/31/2017 – 10:00 A.M._

The UFO the Sargon arrived on was larger than Neil had expected. Although from the few reports he’d read, even the small ones seemed to have a large amount of wasted space and standing room. It was as if each one was designed to carry a small army beyond the needed pilots. In fact, even the so-called “Scouts” were large enough to carry a dozen Mutons.

This UFO differed from others in that it had no openings or gaps whatsoever. The multicolored shield that so-often was displayed across the front was replaced with a complex opening mechanism that had a ramp which extended to the concrete. Falia was standing outside with a mixture of Vitakara and Muton soldiers behind her, waiting at attention. The mixture of Humans was just off to the side, shivering in the cold.

Neil disliked being out of his Snowtrooper armor as well as being disarmed, but it was necessary for the ruse. Cycelea was also around him, with the other Inquisitors sprinkled throughout, as well as his other soldiers hiding in the crowd. Neil silently wished the Sargon good luck in managing to circumvent every contingency they had.

_Welcome to McMurray, Sargon. Enjoy your last days on Earth._

First came four regular Mutons. Wearing their green helmets, they didn’t seem any different than the standard ones that had been stationed at the base. Same armor, same weapons; plasma weapons, and a couple of grenades. Expected, and the remainder might be Elites, or if they were _really_ unlucky, Vanguards.

And then out stepped something he had never seen before. It appeared to be a soldier constructed out of black metal; standing roughly the size of Human, or a short Vitakarian. The helmet was smooth and eyeless, and the chest had silver markings which culminated into a symbol that looked suspiciously like an Ethereal.

The whirring noises they made as they walked out, as well as the clanking when they moved, indicated that they _were_ machines and not soldiers in armor. They also carried plasma weapons, and nothing else from what Neil could see.

“What is _that_?” Cycelea said quietly next to him. “It’s definitely not alive.”

“Don’t know,” he whispered quietly without looking to her. “A potential issue.”

Six of the machines came out in total, the final two flanking the Sargon himself. The alien was not quite the size of an Elite, but easily towered over the standard Mutons, made all the more imposing by the green armor he also wore, including a helmet. Hooked to his back was a kind of plasma cannon that looked closer to what Neil had seen on the Mechtoids.

Nothing else came out after them, which was the good news. The bad was that three of the metal soldiers were standing guard on the ship while the remainder of the Mutons and soldiers formed up behind the Sargon as Falia also moved forward to greet them. “Sargon, welcome to Fort McMurray.”

“Overseer Falia,” the Sargon answered in an oddly bland voice. It occurred to Neil he’d never actually heard a Muton speak before. Their voices were low, yes, but there was definitely room for some personality and emotion if they wanted. It was just the Sargon had a decidedly neutral tone. Perhaps that was intentional. “You requested my input on handling an outside threat. I am here to assist.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Falia turned and began walking in lockstep with the Sargon. “First we can make an inspection-“

“Unnecessary, one of the Custodians will ensure the base is clear.” At the direct motion from the Sargon, one of the _Custodians_ as they were called, apparently, split off from UFO and throughout the base. “Take me to the site of the attacks.”

This worked out well, fortunately, as now Neil wanted to be as close to the Sargon as possible wherever they went. It appeared he had underestimated the alien to a degree, although he had previously _not known_ about the metal soldiers. Those _had_ to have been a recent development, as someone should have known about them before now.

Falia reacted quickly. “In which case, we’ll need to take Human hostages. These Humans are more wary of attacking if they are with us. We want to take every precaution to avoid an attack today.” On her cue several of the Vitakarian soldiers moved through the crowd and took hostages at ‘random’, which translated to his soldiers, Cycelea, and himself. He put up a faux resistance, though eventually played the role of a defeated citizen.

Eight of them were finally chosen, and brought before the Sargon who looked them over for an uncomfortably long time. He looked into the eyes of each one of them for a minimum of a few seconds before moving to the next one. The last he focused on was Cycelea. He stayed on her for half a minute. “Complexion irregular for this region. State your name and citizenship status.”

The hell? Neil hadn’t thought to think that Cycelea’s skin color would have any kind of impact. Were there secretly alien racists? “My name is Jacklyn,” Cycelea said quietly, putting up a show of her own. “Jacklyn Myers. I’ve lived here for several years, I’m telling the truth.”

“Human complexion does not necessarily indicate living area,” Falia said, trying to shake the sudden suspicion. “She is not the only Human in this area to have similar complexion.”

“Cross-check records,” the Sargon commanded to the Custodian just behind him. “Jacklyn Myers.”

“Accessing Fort McMurray citizenship database,” the flat electronic voice of the Custodian said, with no visual indicator of what was going on. “One entry found. Ethnicity is listed as Caucasian. Discrepancy detected.”

“It must be a mistake!” Cycelea said, Neil got the impression that she wasn’t acting here. “It has to be.”

The Sargon lifted a fist, motioning she needed to be quiet. “Likelihood of Human administrative incompetence high. Update database to accurate data. Continue forward Overseer.”

Never had Neil been so happy for the perceived incompetence of the government. Holding in a sigh of relief, they began exiting the town to follow the typical patrol path. The Sargon asked few questions, and seemed to mostly be observing the countryside and town as they walked through it. It was close to an hour before they reached the beginnings of the forest, where the Sargon saw the efforts of their psychological war on the aliens.

Frozen corpses of Borelian and Vitakarians were thrown out, the former mostly just bones which littered the entire patrol route. One of his soldiers had also had the idea to stick playing cards on the bodies in various places. In the mouth, in chinks in the armor, or in the skin itself once it had been opened with a knife. Neil personally didn’t find it _that_ intimidating, and a waste of good cards, but if it made the aliens a bit more afraid, he allowed it.

“This is the most common site of attacks,” Falia said, motioning to the foreboding and silent woods, only punctuated by the whistling winds through the trees. “Doesn’t matter how many we send, four, eight, nothing is guaranteed. They leave the bodies as a message.”

The Custodians were moving to the bodies, one of them delicately plucking the Queen of Hearts from the mouth of a frozen Vitakarian. “Human playing card. Significance unknown. Similar cards noticed in nearby bodies.”

“Container found,” another Custodian picked up another gift they had left. Neil kept the smile off his face as the Custodian opened it. “Contents identified as Borelian. Attached note reads “Send more”.”

“They’ve been leaving these,” Falia sighed, stepping towards the Sargon, disgust in her voice. “It has…made some of us uneasy. We had previously not known that Humans eat their enemies.”

The Sargon looked between the contents of the container, the corpses, and the aliens which had accompanied him, then the Human ‘hostages’. Neil did not especially like how hard the Sargon was trying to think about this. This was definitely _not_ a stupid alien. “Human likelihood of eating sentient creatures is low, likely purely psychological warfare. Successful psychological warfare.”

He looked to Falia. “Bodies placed deliberately, includes various attachments and symbols designed to provoke a psychological connection to them and induce fear or uneasiness at their presence. This implies that one or more of these Humans has training in psychological warfare, has training in engaging guerilla conflicts. Likely ADVENT support. ADVENT support implies extensive resources not possible for guerilla locals. Weaponry used to kill forces also insufficient for local hunters or forces.”

The Sargon was _not_ supposed to have figured _that_ out. Even if he was guessing, it was a scarily accurate guess, which meant that it was only a matter of time before he began reaching the logical possibility of psionic support.

Fuck. He might need to signal the attack now. When he’d heard Sargons were smart, he hadn’t expected to be dealing with some kind of organic machine.

“We haven’t found evidence of ADVENT activity,” Falia made an attempt to deflect. Cycelea must have been giving direct instructions. “When they ambushed the first patrol, their weapons were probably taken. Not to mention Humans here are more skilled at survival than most of their kind.”

The Sargon appraised the entire group; his mind impossible to guess under the helmet. “Move the four of them away,” he commanded. Neil found himself being forced slightly closer towards the tree line, and turned around. Three of his other soldiers had also been moved, visibly worried and he couldn’t blame them.

The Custodians had their weapons trained on them. “Do not move,” the Sargon ordered. “Soldiers, move away from them.”

The Vitakara who had held them returned beyond the invisible line in the snow the others were on, and he was suddenly yanked into the air with something wrapping around his arms, legs, and throat. He heard nothing behind him, but instinctively knew what was lifting him up, with only the barest amount of weight being put on his toes preventing him from immediately suffocating.”

“ADVENT support implies psionic support,” the Sargon said. “Possibility of base personnel compromise is high. I have been keeping reports on this base for weeks, Overseer, well before you sent an official request. I suspect a significant amount of personnel are threatened or compromised by ADVENT forces and they must be purged today. Humans have likely established psionic commands to make attack of allied forces or species impossible. We will determine who is compromised now.”

There was no choice now. The attack needed to be signaled. Three of these Custodians and a Sargon, not to mention at least four Seekers. Assuming they were the ones he had previously read about, the Seekers could be disposed of fairly easily, but he had no idea about the Custodians or Sargon.

No one had so far managed to kill one, and if their combat skills were equal to their mental skills…this was not going to go as well as he had hoped. It was _already_ moving onto the worst-case scenario. _Send the signal Cycelea_ , he thought, as he saw the Falia aim her weapon at him. Within seconds the game would be up and all of them would die.

The air seemed to be charged with electricity as Falia shifted her rifle up and shot the Seeker, while the other Vitakara in unison, shot at the other Seekers before turning their weapons on the unprepared Mutons. The remaining four Humans, Cycelea included, dashed to the woods as gauss and plasma fire rained from behind the tree as the Snowtroopers unleashed their arsenals.

Neil yanked the mechanical coils off of him just in time to see the Sargon and Custodians spring into action. The massive Muton grabbed Falia by her head in a surprisingly quick motion, and jabbed an armored thumb into the eye then used that as a grip before he crushed part of her head before tossing the body to the ground; yellow blood staining the snow and his hand.

The Custodians shot at the compromised aliens with merciless precision, killing them in a few shots to the head or neck. Their focus on the aliens allowed the majority of Humans to scamper to the woods for cover, although Neil saw two get mowed down by Custodian fire. The Sargon was reaching for his plasma cannon as the crack of gauss weapons slammed into his armor.

“Pin the Sargon down!” Neil called as one of the Snowtroopers tossed him a rifle. “Everyone else kill the others!”

The Custodians were marching into the woods, unafraid of the barrage of fire, and Neil soon saw why, as the Custodian took several direct hits from a Snowtrooper right before a few plasma shots from its own rifle finished him. The Custodian suddenly froze in place. “Shoot it now!” Cycelea called, a hand extended toward it. “I can’t hold it for long.”

Someone tossed a grenade at it, and Neil emptied an entire clip into the head and chest of the thing, bringing the sparking body to the ground. The Sargon was using his plasma cannon now, and the forest was lit up with the bright green bolts and splintering trees. A crack signaled the fall of several of the smaller ones, ironically creating more cover.

More Snowtroopers fell; two, then three by the remaining Custodian and the plasma barrage of the Sargon. A round slammed into the rifle held by the Custodian, and it exploded in its hand, making it stumble back, but not actually killing it. Neil also saw that it was slowly repairing the wounds it had, but luckily too slow to protect itself against the barrage of gauss fire.

Then only the Sargon was left. The armor had taken a large beating, but he was dedicated in his pursuit to leveling the forest. More Snowtroopers fell or were injured, while Cycelea once more extended a hand, sweat beading her face and locked in intense concentration. “Aim for the head!” Neil yelled, and every single firearm shot where he directed.

The downside of the massive size of the Sargon was that he was a big target that couldn’t hide behind cover they could, and was in perpetual exposure. But now the tide had turned, and not even the armored helmet of the Sargon could protect against the hail of metal.

Neil didn’t know who fired the last shot, but that had been enough to send the massive alien to the ground, shaking it as he hit the thin layer of snow and onto a pile of Vitakara bones and corpses. The snowy battlefield grew silent once again, as all of them stood cautiously.

“Well,” Cycelea finally said, looking at the corpses of Humans and aliens. “That…could have gone better.”

Neil just nodded. “Yes, it could have. But we killed it, at least.” He eyed her closely. “You didn’t tell me you were a telekine.”

She sniffed. “Trust me, I’m _not_. You just saw the extent of my telekinetic capabilities, and I have a pounding headache because of it. Don’t ask me to do it again, please.”

“Take something to help with it,” he instructed. “We’re not done yet.”

She grimaced. “We still have the other three of those Custodians in the town to deal with.”

“Yes, we do,” he reloaded his weapon. “Everyone that’s still able needs to prepare to move out. We’re on an accelerated timetable now. Our primary objective is complete; now we have to finish the job.”

***

_Backroads - Argentina_

_2/5/2017 – 5:14 P.M._

In a crowded car with other Lancers, Jaylin felt like the talks had gone very well. Abby had said that the government was cleared for now, and were taking steps to ensure that their own agencies weren’t compromised in some way. Good in that they weren’t a potential enemy, and bad in that it meant that they didn’t really know where the Phantom Division was operating from, or what their plans were.

Abby had clearly not let her guard down, as the moment they walked into the car, she rolled around a massive case to a changing area and then emerged wearing a kind of armor she’d never seen before. It almost looked like it was made out of stone, and had an odd symbol on the front of it. It _almost_ resembled XCOM armor in a way, especially the helmet, but she got the distinct feeling it wasn’t something XCOM had made.

She was riding without the helmet now, and Jaylin decided it was probably safe enough to ask some questions. “The armor,” she said, nodding towards it. “XCOM?”

Abby gave a faint smile. “Not exactly. An…appropriation of alien tech.” She tapped the chest. “They won’t be missing it.”

“What’s it made out of?” One of the Lancers asked. “Looks like stone.”

“Don’t know, and don’t remember the designation the science teams gave,” Abby answered, shaking her head. “Doubt its stone. If I recall, it’s a combination of alien alloys and an exotic material not found on Earth. Extremely durable and strong.”

“Huh,” another Lancer said. “Shame its extraterrestrial. Those would make some excellent suits of armor.”

“I’d test it out first,” another said. “Looks strong, but who knows?”

“This suit can take direct plasma shots,” Abby said with a smile. “Trust me, I’ve used it before.”

“So how many aliens have you killed then?” A Lancer asked. “I’ve only got six so far.”

“Every XCOM soldier has kills in the double digits,” Abby said. “I’m no exception. More than thirty, I think. Just aliens too.”

“Damn,” one whistled. “Even your intel agents have higher killcounts than us.”

“I’m sort of an exception,” Abby clarified. “I was a soldier before I transferred to Intelligence.”

“Why make that change?” Jaylin asked, having been curious about that for a while. “Not a common transition.”

Abby went silent for a moment. “I took the advice of a friend. I think he’d have approved of my choice.”

From her tone, Jaylin suspected that this friend was no longer alive. She figured it was best to not keep pressing forward after that. It was rare in war that soldiers didn’t lose at least some of their friends, and Abby was clearly no exception. Jaylin didn’t know how much that changed for intelligence agents, but from some things she read it was the same or worse.

A dangerous line of work, intelligence was.

That seemed to have sent the entire convoy truck into some reflective silence. Jaylin herself had had quite the change of career, from Riot Police, to Peacekeeper, to now ADVENT intel attaché. It was an interesting development, and one where she felt she was making some kind of impact, even if it was fairly small.

Definitely more dangerous, especially since an Ethereal was involved, but that was one of the interesting parts of it.

 _“Convoy one under fire,”_ the driver stated into their ear. _“Potential threats spotted on the road. Initiate defensive protocols.”_

All of them were moving at the words as the convoy slammed to a halt, and the Lancers grabbed their weapons, as did Abby. Jaylin readied her riot shield, remembering the plan. There was an extensive amount of Lancer-tier equipment stored in cases in the back which the Lancers would go to and then use against the enemy. The convoy trucks would be used for cover, and the psions would either protect against psionic attacks, or use their abilities offensively.

“Guess they were watching us,” Abby muttered, putting on her helmet. “Let’s make them regret it.”

Leading the charge she pushed open the door and the Lancers and Jaylin charged out after her into a hail of what looked like white plasma fire and gauss shots from a distance. A quick look around the area confirmed that it was an excellent place for an ambush. The road went through a shallow gorge with forested hills which allowed plenty of sniping range and vision.

The road itself had no cover outside of the convoy trucks, but those would have to suffice. Several of the Lancers opened up the doors, and slid down additional metal sheets which extended to the ground in order to provide protection to their feet and legs, as they returned fire to the forests and hills while the other Lancers recovered their additional equipment.

 _“There is definitely a psion with them,”_ Marco said over the comms. _“Me and Protopriest Kil are beginning protection. Until we confirm, do not take what you see as reality.”_

The first convoy truck suddenly exploded in a rain of metal and fire, knocking down pretty much everyone nearby and throwing the Lancers to the ground. Someone had to have died there, and Jaylin couldn’t see who. She then remembered that that convoy truck had been the one which held the SHIV, and while she couldn’t completely see through the smoke, she was _pretty_ sure that they were down their one and only SHIV.

Wonderful.

Through the smoke she saw the form of an alien, but this one didn’t fit the formal description of the Phantom Division.

The armor was back and sleek, but unlike the descriptions provided, it had obvious heavy weapon systems incorporated into it. The wrist had several launchers, and there were twin micro-missile launchers on the shoulders. The figure was massive as well, and was manually reloading the launchers. In the distance she saw several black armored forms dashing down the hills – _these_ were the expected soldiers of the Phantom Division. Figures in black armor, no markings or even notable armor segmentation.

What worried her was their known capability to go invisible.

Some of the downed Lancers rose to their feet, to the clear surprise of the alien in the heavy armor. They had definitely not been expecting Lancers then. In torn and damaged armor, the Lancers charged the alien trying to bring him down. The other Lancers had acquired their full weaponry, and were firing back at the aliens with more accurate precision.

“They will try and come from behind!” Abby yelled, firing her plasma weapon into the forest. “Watch for their invisibility!”

Watch for something they couldn’t see? Jaylin figured she just meant for them to be aware that was within their capabilities. But multiple Lancers were watching their backs, ready for any kind of attack. “This is Lancer Valdez to all nearby outposts,” one of the Lancers near Jaylin was saying. “We are under attack and require immediate assistance.”

Several shots rang out, and a Lancer by the third convoy went down. The helmet was shattered, and the head definitely bruised, but the Lancer managed to get back up-

Only to be shot again, and this time he stayed down. It was honestly more than Jaylin had expected. Maybe Lancer-tier helmets could have protected him more, but they were stuck with weaker ADVENT soldier armor. _“This is definitely her!”_ Kil shouted through the comms. Jaylin saw the woman, on one knee and the air shimmering around her. _“She’s strong!”_

“There they are!” A Lancer shouted as a Phantom Division alien materialized out of thin air holding an impossibly thin blade. It was stabbed into the nearest Lancer who twisted and managed to only have it stuck in his upper left chest and not heart. They _did_ use nanoblades it turned out…and those were strong enough to penetrate Iron Skin.

But the Lancer was not dead, and lashed out with a mace in his hand and slammed it into the head of the alien, sending it sprawling to the ground, and he leapt on top of it and kept bashing until it was dead and two more of the soldiers had appeared and began firing at him, killing him for good. The other Lancers used the advantage to charge the aliens, some carrying melee weapons while others fired their rifles.

Jaylin turned back to focus on the other front, with more plasma fire coming down on her. Ah, there. Abby was engaging several Phantom Division soldiers at once, moving extremely fast in her armor and absorbing multiple shots at once. She definitely hadn’t exaggerated the durability of the armor. Jaylin lined up her weapon, and fired off a few shots at the leftmost alien who was kneeling behind some self-made cover.

She scowled, wanting to get a better shot, and briefly stood partially exposed to fire again.

Jaylin never heard the shot that killed her.

***

Volk had to hand it to ADVENT, they’d planned for this to happen. From the moment he’d seen the remainder of the convoys had responded to him shooting out the tire in formation, it was very clear that they had a plan and protocol for an attack ready to go, and more importantly, were disciplined to actually go through with it.

There were psions with them as well, which they’d known about. He wished that Asaru would beat them so they could get this mission done faster, because otherwise ADVENT was going to find them and cause a lot of problems. She _had_ to be more powerful than two psions, right?

Then there was the interesting detail that the ADVENT soldiers who were escorting them were _not_ standard soldiers, but ADVENT special forces. Almost definitely Lancers. There were no others he could think of who could take two _direct_ shots to the head. Which meant that he needed to prioritize his shots a bit more.

Elena was similarly positioned to provide sniper fire, as were a few more of his men. As he observed the battle taking place, he looked to the composition of the soldiers. The Lancers were all wearing standard soldier armor. That was helpful. There were two soldiers in Peacekeeper attire, one of them Riot Control. There were a couple who were completely obscured not wearing any armor – likely the diplomats and another psion.

Then there was the XCOM agent who seemed to be invincible.

Volk was working on how best to deal with her. At least she was being held up by the Division soldiers. That would be enough.

“Target non-Lancer personnel,” he stated. “Thin their numbers. Take the Lancers off Joreal if you can.”

The first clue that these should have been Lancers in disguise was when several of them rose from the explosion from Joreal and began charging the alien. The massive Vitakarian was holding his own easily enough, and seeming to enjoy facing the two Lancers, but Volk wondered where the advantage really laid. Both were extensively modified, both were motivated, and both intended to kill the other.

Two on one. Not odds Volk would ever support.

While his snipers dealt with them, he quickly ran through how to quickly thin the numbers. The easiest way was the elimination of all non-Lancer soldiers – who likely would not be augmented. Good enough. He focused his sights on the female Peacekeeper. Definitely Riot Control, as her shield was up and she used it to help protect against plasma fire.

He felt he could easily take off her head where she was now, but she was clearly wanting to get a better shot on one of the Division soldiers attacking Agent Gertrude. And…there. She peeked out just a _little_ bit more than usual, and that was all he needed to fire. The shattered armor splattered red, and her corpse fell to the ground.

One down.

He moved to the other Peacekeeper. He was also trying to shoot at the Division soldiers attacking Gertrude, but he was not even pretending to be careful. Almost as if the snipers didn’t exist for him. Volk only felt minor disappointment at such an obvious lack of situational awareness. Before the body hit the ground he was already scanning for where the others were hiding.

Another down.

The next shot would require a reload. _“Unidentified unarmored female down_ ,” Elena reported tonelessly. _“Executing.”_ A second shot rang out, essentially confirming the kill. Likely one of the diplomats. Not exactly a dangerous combatant, but not one they needed alive. The enemy psions were unfortunately proving to be a lot more difficult to find.

They were smart. Even the armored Priest was keeping herself protected. Against an Ethereal, they needed everything they could. Volk was taking Asaru out of the equation, and assuming she was stuck until the psions were dead. Or at least one was. The Lancers were dropping, but they were holding surprisingly well against the Division.

Time for the nuclear option. Volk was _extremely_ hesitant about using this little development of the Phantom Division, but it was warranted here. “Get rid of the cover. Commence nanite destruction.”

He loaded a highly specialized cartage with a single nanite round. It was essentially hollow, and contained nothing but short-term nanites which would eat through everything for a one-minute period. He just needed to place them in a useful area, and that would be sufficient. So he aimed on the ground behind the wreckage of the third convoy, likely where one of the psions was hiding behind, and fired.

Confirmations rang out as his snipers performed similar actions. While he reloaded with more standard rounds, he peeked through to see the damage. Several had shot the Lancers, who were screaming as the nanites ate into their skin and they couldn’t protect themselves. More screams wafted up, and forced more out into the open to get away from the moving black spots of death.

Several more down.

 _One of their psions is no longer defending them._ Asaru’s voice appeared in his head. _The other cannot protect them. They are lost. Capture the XCOM agent._

Volk allowed a satisfied smile as he turned his attention to the final objective. Turned out that all of his concerns had been for nothing.

But it wouldn’t be a victory until Agent Gertrude was captured.

***

They were going to lose.

It was an odd sensation coming to that conclusion, especially as she blasted the head of the alien in front of her apart after a sustained barrage. But the tide had turned, if it had ever been in their favor to begin with. Risking a glance back showed a bunch of half-destroyed convoy trucks and the aliens finishing off the last of the Lancers.

The other massive alien had killed one of the Lancers on his own, and the other was being shot from snipers in the tree. The psions must be dead, which meant that her time was running out. Her own armor was still reliably taking the white plasma shots, but she knew that alone against the Phantom Division she would die.

What the hell had she been thinking?

Going up against an Ethereal with what she’d had was not nearly enough to defeat an Ethereal like her. Plans and strategies didn’t help when Nebulan and the Phantom Division could just attack them, rendering any plan they had useless.

She had underestimated the Ethereal, still. Been played or done as much as she could, it didn’t matter now. She was not equipped to fight an Ethereal like this now, much less kill one. She needed to get out of here if she wanted to live, and the longer she fought, the less chance there was of that.

Abby hated it, but there was no other choice. The other Phantom Division soldiers were either running towards her with nanoblades in their hands or firing with their weapons. She was still nowhere near spent, so she charged the last place they might expect – directly into the sniper nests. She charged one of the surprised Phantom Division, and lifted the soldier into the air before tossing him behind her with a force that surprised even her.

She needed to push the suit to its limits one day.

Bounding up into the forest, she suddenly ran smack into a tree. Or more accurately, mowed down a small sapling. Her head split in a pounding pain as she realized that the forest seemed to be shifting and phasing in and out of existence as her Manchurian Restraints worked to combat the hostile psionic influence.

A figure stood in the middle of the shifting forest. The form of a Vitakarian woman. “Your people put up a fight, agent,” Nebulan’s voice was layered and rich, and she had no idea if it was even remotely close to her real one or not. “But you cannot fight an Ethereal. Not like this.” The alien smiled as Abby took a tentative step forward, the pain in her head splitting as she grimaced under her helmet.

“What did you _think_ would happen, agent?” Nebulan asked, more genuine than mocking. She sounded almost disappointed as she stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. “Does Aegis think so little of me that he would send a lone XCOM agent and a few psions to combat _me_?”

Abby took a shot at her with the pistol, which went through the head of the illusion, who still continued speaking as yellow ichor leaked out of the remains of the head. “Foolish. Unfortunate. You would have been useful to us, agent. Much of your species would be, but they are being turned to follow a losing side.”

 _“Losing,”_ Abby choked, falling to one knee, hard to think straight as even the ground seemed to shift from grass, to gravel, to empty space; the pain in her head reaching a breaking point. “You may kill me, _alien_ , but you will not stop us. You will _wish_ I was the only thing you will face, because there will be a reckoning for my death.”

The illusion of Nebulan shifted and changed until Abby was looking at a reflection of herself, although one in the uniform of the Collective. “Kill you, agent?” She said softly, leaning down and looking into her eyes. “No, not yet. We need to learn everything about you. You’ve raised many, _many_ intriguing questions.” The eyes briefly glanced to the symbol on Abby’s armor. “You will die, agent,” she continued slowly. “But not today. Not yet.”

A crack from a weapon fired, and Abby felt the leg supporting her shatter and she collapsed onto the ground, white-hot pain shooting up her leg. The pressure on her mind disappeared, and she found herself on the ground in an Argentinean evening, breathing heavily into the orange-blue sky with clouds passing overhead.

Would it be the last thing she saw?

A figure wearing a brown hooded trench coat, with a mask underneath entered her field of vision, a pistol in his hand. She wondered if he would say something, but he just put a boot on her arm to keep it in place. She used the other to lash out and he promptly shot the gap in her elbow, causing her to scream out in pain.

“I wouldn’t do that again, Agent,” he said, the mask synthesizing whatever his real voice sounded like. “We only need you alive, not mobile. Save yourself some pain.”

“Traitor,” she hissed as he pulled out a rectangular device.

He looked over to her. “To you, perhaps.” Placing the device on the gap in her arm, she felt something be inserted into her and slowly found herself falling unconscious and the world blacking out around her. The last thing she saw a white cloud, and the fading orange light.

Then she drifted off into a painful sleep.


	44. The Broken and Defiant

 

_Backroads – Argentina_

_2/5/2017 – 7:12 P.M._

“They definitely got a call out,” Volk said as the Phantom Division soldiers continued to strip the ADVENT soldiers of their weapons, armor, and recovered their own dead as the fires caused by the convoy truck explosion kept dying down. “We shouldn’t loiter here any longer than we have to.”

“We’re working as fast as we can,” Joreal said, as he was slowly doing some field repairs to his armor. “To their credit, they put up a good fight despite being horribly outmatched.”

Volk however felt like something was wrong with how this had happened, and it all centered around the XCOM agent who was lying on the ground before him, now properly restrained. He would have done something to make sure her wounds were at least patched, but her armor absolutely refused to come off, and when he’d tried digging around, little _wires_ had sprouted up and stabbed into his hand.

It had _hurt,_ to put it lightly.

“So what are we going to do with her?” Volk pointed to the woman. “I mean, you want to get her out of her armor, be my guest. But we need to make a decision.”

Joreal just looked at him, pausing his cleaning of armor. “What decision? It’s not like we’re just going to leave here, definitely not _now_. We can get the armor off later.”

Volk just tapped his own lightly armored chest. “Question: What exactly do you think XCOM is going to do next?”

“Try and find us,” Joreal said. “I’d assume they would. Probably won’t rely on ADVENT.” He paused. “Who will also be after us since we killed several Priests, Intelligence agents, and a diplomat for good measure. But same problem. How are they going to find us?”

Volk sighed. “Have you not considered the possibility that this very odd and unique suit of armor just _might_ have a way to track it? Which means we might be leading ADVENT and XCOM straight to our base of operations. If we get her out of the armor, we don’t have to worry about that. Bringing her _back_ with it is just asking for XCOM to quite possibly bring down the cavalry on us.”

“I have looked into her mind,” Asaru materialized beside them, mimicking the agent herself for some reason, including her voice. “From what I have found, the suit likely does not have a tracking device. And if my suspicion is correct…well, we cannot leave it behind, no matter the risk.”

Volk just stared. Which wasn’t as effective with his helmet on, but he was not going to just consider that a good explanation. “Two questions: First, how _thoroughly_ have you examined her mind? Second, is that _confirmed_ she doesn’t have a tracker, or is it possible that she _doesn’t know_ there is one?”

“We did a quick scan of the suit,” Joreal reminded him. “Didn’t detect any outgoing signals.”

“Yes, because there’s no possibility those could be hidden,” Volk noted sarcastically. “If _you’ve_ never seen something like this before, then it is completely possible that that little issue could be bypassed. You saw how much damage that took. This is not made by amateurs – and was likely not easy to make.”

“I have seen enough of her mind to know she at least believes there is no tracker,” Asaru finally said. “The…conditioning she has been subjected to forces me to not push too hard, otherwise it will break her mind. But she is too valuable to leave behind.”

“What do we actually know about it?” Volk asked. “You seem to suspect something.”

“That it is possible that she works for someone besides XCOM,” Asaru said slowly, looking down at the restrained woman. “That suit has only been seen once. And that she is still wearing it is…concerning. I will tell you if my suspicions are confirmed, but we will not leave her behind. She will need to be moved off-world.”

“Alright, fine,” Volk settled for that non-answer, and fully intended to press her on it later. “Then we should do the transfer somewhere besides HQ. So if there is a tracker, we don’t compromise our main base of operations.”

“How?” Joreal asked, motioning up. “Call down a transport and use a Gateway we don’t have? Our options are limited here. Going back to HQ is the quickest solution since ADVENT and XCOM will be all over this area in hours.”

“Then we should just kill her and cut our losses,” Volk scowled. “No, I don’t like it, but I also didn’t expect this woman to have armor glued to her skin that’s somehow more advanced than your own. Not worth compromising everything just to maybe learn what it is and how she got it. Next time we should be more prepared for this possibility so it doesn’t happen again. But for-“

“Overruled, Volk,” Asaru raised a hand, shaking her head. “Risk or not, it’s worth it if I’m right. Load up her body, administer medical nanites for her wounds. I don’t want her dying because we couldn’t get her armor off.” Two nearby Phantom Division soldiers complied and began getting the needed tools to prepare the unconscious agent.

“You’re making a mistake,” Volk warned, not bothering to disguise how utterly stupid he thought she was being. “You’re going to potentially risk everything for…what? A suit of armor?”

“Bases can be rebuilt or established,” Asaru said, some steel entering her own voice as she looked at him. “And you could very well be wrong. For this, I am most certainly prepared to take risks. This is something the Imperator himself will be directly interested in. I will not throw it away because you think the risk is too high.”

“Duly noted,” Volk said icily. “It’s a good thing I made contingency plans in this kind of scenario. You focus on your special armor and I’ll try and make sure you don’t end up collapsing everything we’ve done so far. And don’t think about trying to stop me.” He stormed directly through Asaru’s illusion to find Elena and his soldiers.

Assuming that by some miracle everything worked out smoothly, Asaru was definitely going to have to explain herself more than she had right now. He didn’t understand it. Asaru was not an idiot, and seemed to enjoy devising plans and contingencies that made sense. This was the first time where she was being, for lack of a better word, an idiot.

No matter how valuable Gertrude was, she definitely wasn’t worth risking an entire operation. Not to Volk. So the best he could do was try and mitigate the damage this decision could cause. And since they were keeping her alive, maybe have a nice chat with her right before she was given to the Imperator.

This turned a nearly perfect mission into one still up in the air. At least it had gone well so far.

Now it just had to stay that way.

***

_Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_2/5/2017 – 10:51 P.M._

_“Attacked?”_

“We’ve lost all contact with them, and ADVENT forces on the scene confirmed it was the same one Agent Gertrude was a part of,” Zhang informed tightly. “Everyone there is dead, anything left was likely stripped, all enemy corpses are gone.”

“And Agent Gertrude?”

“Gone. No body or indication she is alive or dead.”

“If she was wearing her armor, they would have wanted it,” Creed recalled, pursing his lips. “Unfortunately I don’t think they’d be able to get it off. So they probably took her body back to wherever their base is.”

“Get the Chronicler up here right now,” the Commander said without turning to look at Jackson. “If Nebulan is brazen enough to attack us this directly, we will respond in kind.”

“The operation was a mistake,” Zhang muttered, shaking his head. “I did not expect such a brazen attack. Not yet. Otherwise I would have given her a dedicated force…” he trailed off. “This is my fault, Commander. An ill-conceived plan against Nebulan.”

“We pay the price for underestimating Ethereals,” the Commander said, sighing. “What we do now is fix this, Director. And if Agent Gertrude is alive, you apologize to her yourself. Keep in contact with ADVENT and I want you working with them to find out where the aliens are hiding.”

“Forensics teams are going over the wreckage and bodies now,” Zhang nodded. “Causes appear to be varied. Nanoweaponry, plasma, and even physical projectiles are reported used. Explosives too, judging from the wreckage.”

“Even Lancers are going to lose to the Phantom Division every time if they aren’t prepared,” Creed said, leaning on the holotable and looking on the blank map. “Combine that with Nebulan’s support, and controlling the ambush point, and they never had a chance. You need an XCOM and PRIEST joint force just for Nebulan, let alone when she’s supported by the Phantom Division.”

“Which will be provided if we find her,” the Commander said, face set in stone as he considered what would happen next. “The conflict is reigniting. They are moving towards their next major attack. The operations in Canada are damaging them, and so they are responding in kind. It will continue to escalate.”

“They lost a Sargon, we lost an Intelligence agent,” Jackson noted quietly. “Objectively…there are worse trades.”

“Objectively, yes,” the Commander sighed. “But Abigail has been with XCOM since the beginning…if she dies…”

“Then all of the original XCOM soldiers will have died in this war,” Creed finished somberly. “Patricia had mentioned how she was ‘almost the last’. But she isn’t dead yet. I don’t believe that. Either of them.”

“Patricia is on the Temple Ship with the Imperator,” the Commander reminded him. “If she’s still alive, it means she is bait or has some other role in his plan. Or worse, being experimented on. I don’t know why they would keep Abby alive either…the Manchurian Restraints prevent her from cooperating, and I suspect she doesn’t know more than what the aliens know already.”

“The suit,” Creed reminded him.

“Which also doesn’t make sense,” he scowled. “They would have to guess it has a tracker in it, even if it doesn’t, the risk is extremely high. Taking it doesn’t seem right, even if they want to get their hands on Sovereign tech. Not to mention they won’t get much out of it. It’s bonded to Abby somehow, and it might even destroy itself if forcibly removed.”

“Technology from an unknown Sovereign is valuable,” Jackson suggested, pacing around the table. “They have to suspect that one exists at this point. That might be worth risking being tracked down. Although they might reconsider if they knew Abby wasn’t actually an agent of T’Leth.”

The barrier to the Situation Room dissipated as the Chronicler stormed inside, eyes blazing with intensity. “Agent Gertrude has been taken?”

“Or killed, we don’t know,” the Commander answered, restarting the holomap. “They were ambushed and everyone was killed. Her body is missing. All we know is that she was wearing her suit. It is possible the Collective wants it for study.”

“While they won’t learn anything, I would not want Abby to lose her life this way,” the Chronicler answered, pulling out his phone and quickly tapping on it. “T’Leth builds safeguards into everything he designs – you’ve seen how this works since you took scans of her suit. It will self-destruct upon the death of the operator and attack anyone who tried to wear or use it. They will learn very little, even with their best technology.”

“When you say ‘self-destruct’…”

“The suit will cannibalize whoever is inside,” the Chronicler answered, not looking up. “And break the suit apart into tiny particles. Reconstruction is impossible.”

“So it’s possible that Abby could have just been killed then,” the Commander said.

“Possible, though unlikely,” the Chronicler said. “Otherwise T’Leth would have been notified. All of the suits and weapons have trackers that are undetectable by modern scanners which monitor user vitals and location. Losing a weapon is not a major development. Losing armor _is_ because it means the suit – and user – are almost certainly dead.”

“And if nothing happens, you are not notified,” Zhang confirmed. “So you would not have been able to detect if she was wounded or not.”

“Yes, vitals only display life signs,” the Chronicler said, frowning. “There _is_ the possibility of a manual self-destruct, but I would prefer not to-damn it!”

“What?”

“Good news and bad news,” the Chronicler said, face hardening. “Abby is alive and I have a very neat path to her latest location. The bad news is that her tracker just stopped transmitting ten minutes ago.”

“She’s dead?” Zhang asked.

“No, it stopped transmitting,” the Chronicler corrected. “Which means-“

“She was transferred off-world, into Collective territory,” the Commander finished. “We’re too late.”

“Except we have a direct location on Nebulan’s base!” Creed interrupted. “If it has a Gateway, it has to be important, especially in South America.”

“Let me see the map,” the Chronicler pushed forward, as he typed the coordinates on his map. “I’m inclined to agree with him. The Collective has almost no notable presence in the region. A Gateway would be a big piece of infrastructure for them. Ah, there we go.”

“In the middle of nowhere,” Jackson said, eying the location. “Interesting.”

“I’m not writing off Abby yet,” the Chronicler said, gazing intently down at the holotable. “The Collective will not learn anything, but she does not deserve to die through protecting T’Leth’s secrets. If we know where she was sent, Fiona can take a team to break her out. Assuming such an attack is possible. But holding her in a Blacksite is manageable.”

“And in the meantime we attack Nebulan,” the Commander finished. “Regardless of Abby, that is a step we should take. She will not attack our soldiers without consequence. Jackson?”

“Already on it,” she said, working furiously on her tablet. “Zhang, you forwarding all of this to ADVENT?”

“As we speak.”

“Tell them to bring overwhelming force for our friendly neighborhood illusionist,” Jackson had a lethal smile as she talked. “An army of MDUs and SHIVs will suffice. If they don’t want to just missile strike the location.”

“No. Only bomb it as a last resort,” the Commander interrupted. “I want to recover as much intel from that place as possible. We can always destroy it later. And I know we can put together a strong enough force to kill Nebulan.”

“Understood,” Jackson nodded. “Teams are being put together now. Aegis?”

“Yes.”

“If you would, Commander, I would like to send two people along on this operation,” the Chronicler said. “Both with a stake in the outcome.”

“Who?” The Commander asked. “Fiona?”

“Crevan Machas,” the Chronicler answered. “The finest artisan of T’Leth, and a designer of his technology. A powerful man in this own right as well. He was Fiona’s mentor. He has an interest in ensuring that this technology stays out of the hands of individuals like the Imperator.”

The Commander felt he could accommodate that. Knowing more about who was working with T’Leth was always welcome. “As long as he doesn’t tamper with anything and doesn’t deviate significantly from the plan, I’ll allow it. And the second?”

“Lincoln Harper,” the Chronicler said. “Led the Australian Resistance and worked with Abby in Australia. She helped save him once, and I suspect he would want to return the favor.”

“Done.” The Commander nodded.

“Commander?” Jackson interjected. “You said that you planned to _kill_ Nebulan, not capture her?”

“If she surrenders, we will accept it,” the Commander said calmly, turning to her. “But until that point, my orders are her execution. Is that clear? And I want to talk to Vahlen.”

“Yes, Commander.” A pause. “What should I tell her?”

“That I want to do a field test.”

***

_Mess Hall, the Praesidium – Classified Location_

_2/5/2017 – 11:35 P.M._

It was just as well that his sleep schedule was all messed up, because then Oliver wouldn’t have found himself in such an interesting situation. He was now enjoying a decent meal with the Chronicler’s…subordinate? Friend? Whatever she was, Fiona, and opposite her was the odd Zudjari, Axis.

The alien was especially interesting since the Zudjari were something that he’d never seen before a few weeks ago. The vertically slit mouths were an interesting feature of the species, though it didn’t really impair them from what he could tell. Made sense. What was more interesting was that Axis had a very particular way of eating his food, or at least, arranging it.

Instead of picking one dish of each type from the limited amount of options, his entire plate this time consisted of small portions of vegetables. The only way this made sense was that he was experimenting with different types of food to see which one he liked best. After the incident with the chocolate and Vitakara, Oliver suspected that ADVENT was making sure aliens could actually eat their food before giving it to them.

He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Fiona. She was fit, but didn’t have the physique of a soldier. She carried a sword of all things (although that was less strange when there were Templars around), could teleport, but also had white hair (probably dyed) and no gene modding that he could see. Or at least she had shared.

Oliver would have also been confused as to why Axis had made a point to sit by her, since the few other times they had interacted he had sat alone, but when Fiona explained that they had met before, and she was the reason he was here today, it made more sense. “So,” he said. “What’s your story? Must be a pretty interesting one for you to end up with the Chronicler.”

Fiona stopped chewing her food, looking at him thoughtfully. “Probably less interesting than you think, honestly.”

“Well, I’ve got time,” Oliver said. “And if you want my uninteresting life story, I can return the favor.”

“Do not ask for my life story, Human.” Axis added, not looking over.

“Private person or is that a Zudjari thing?”

Axis silently ignored him. Fiona snorted. “Well, for starters I was adopted. Didn’t really know my real parents, or had a desire to investigate much. But had a pretty normal childhood outside of that. My mother was a teacher and my father a fencer.”

“Explains the sword then,” Oliver noted.

“Yes, I loved watching him,” she said, her voice turning slightly distant. “Almost like a dance at times. Never thought I would actually need to use it, or would want to. Not in a world with guns and psionics.”

“Times change,” Oliver grunted. “And they change _fast_.”

“Anyway, I eventually moved away and through a series of very unfortunate events and bad decision making, ended up in a street gang, made some enemies of some killers, and spent a couple years on the run.” She took a long drink of her water. “Met someone who helped me, figured out my abilities, and offered to help and train me. Took him up on it, since I had nowhere else to go. And so I became part of the Chronicler’s little army.”

Yep, there was definitely a lot she was leaving out, although Oliver didn’t exactly blame her. Telling a stranger the bad decisions you made when you were younger was not really fun, and it was understandable she’d keep tight-lipped about it. It was interesting how it seemed anyone could end up in this if circumstances favored them, or they just got lucky – or unlucky depending on how you viewed it.

“Did your parents know?” He asked.

“They knew I was having some troubles,” Fiona shrugged. “But they know I’m fine now, although I definitely didn’t tell them the truth. I’ve still got some people who want to kill me, and since they know who my family is…well, a problem I just want to avoid.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “You never dealt with them?”

She snorted. “Ha. No, I wish I had at times, but honestly they aren’t important and it would distract me at this point. If they ever come across me, I’ll happily kill them. But the Chronicler doesn’t want me wasting my skills on petty criminals. Best to let them stew in their impatience to try and find me…although by now I’m sure they’ve moved on too. We’ve both got better things to do now.”

“That we do,” Oliver agreed. “Although given how ADVENT operates, I’d bet they become a victim of this war by proxy. They don’t like those kind of people from what I’ve seen.”

Fiona smirked and pointed her fork at him. “Now _that_ would be funny. Axis, is everything alright?”

Oliver saw that the Zudjari had spat out a half-eaten carrot and was staring at it in what appeared to be pure and unfettered disgust. “I cannot understand how you Humans tolerate this…thing. I do not know why I keep trying it.”

“You’ve…tried it before?” Oliver inquired.

“I try it every time I acquire a plate of your Human vegetables,” Axis said. “It is healthy to continually challenge and reevaluate our tastes and perspectives. I question the validity of this when eating these sticks of orange rot.”

“Well, you could just…not eat them then?” Fiona suggested casually. “We all have different preferences.”

“No, because one of these times I may understand why carrots are good,” Axis insisted. “And if I stop eating them, then I will be less convinced that they are actually terrible.”

“Uh huh,” Oliver was tempted to laugh at the seriousness the Zudjari was displaying. “So intentionally doing things you don’t like is a Zudjari thing?”

“Within reason.” The alien began eating broccoli, which he seemed to like just fine. “If it is something other people enjoy and consume, there must be a reason for it, and an effort should be made to understand why people reach this perspective. If one does not continually reinforce their own opinions based on experience, why does their word on the subject have value?”

“I mean,” Fiona paused. “I guess on certain things, that’s admirable. But food? Not really important.”

“You are not an Axis,” he said as an answer. “You do not possess the mindset for one.”

“And I’m perfectly happy with that,” she said, smiling. “Well, that’s interesting. I’d always wondered how you chose your meals.”

Oliver’s wristband began buzzing. He looked down at it in disbelief. “Mobilization,” he said slowly. “I’m being deployed.”

Fiona turned instantly serious. “What? An attack?”

“Don’t know,” he said, getting up. “But we’re being deployed. You might want to talk to the Chronicler. The war may have just started again.”

***

_Unknown Location_

_Unknown Time_

Abby actually couldn’t recall ever waking up in her armor, but there was a first time for everything.

She soon realized she couldn’t move.

The arm the man had shot wasn’t responding at all, and she could barely move her fingers. Her leg was similarly numb, although she noted that they must have at least repaired it somehow. Nanotech? She couldn’t think of another way they could have gotten under the armor without getting hurt or damaged.

But she was definitely restrained. There were metal restraints around all of her joints, as well as around her neck and torso. Even with the strength the suit gave her, it wasn’t much help if she couldn’t move at all. At least she wasn’t hanging suspended in the air, even if she felt like she was tied up against a wall.

The room she was in was a big square with bright white light illuminating it. There was nothing else in the room that she could see, aside from the small chair opposite her near the middle of the room, and a stranger sitting down on it.

He was wearing the same kind of uniform as the man who’d shot her, and the mask hanging from his belt confirmed it. He definitely wasn’t that old, and his beard was full and brown. His unkempt and fair long hair fell close to his shoulders, and was propped up by a dark green headband of all things around his forehead.

Abby also spotted the rifle which was propped up in the far corner, and the pistol also hanging from his waist. He held something in his hand, which she couldn’t see, and sat with one leg swung over the other. Waiting for her to wake up. She didn’t feel the need to encourage him, and the helmet at least made sure he couldn’t see her face.

She stayed like that for a few minutes. The man finally sighed. “You can drop the act, Agent. We have sensors. Maybe not the right stuff to break you out of that suit, but I do know if you’re conscious or not.”

“I’m surprised I’m still alive,” she said, not really feeling up to maintaining the ruse – especially since he seemed like he wanted to talk to her. She would have to be careful, but she was curious about these Humans who were working with the Collective.

“You can thank Asaru for that,” the man jerked a thumb towards the exit of the room. “If it were up to me, I would have killed you. A big security risk, but you’re apparently worth it. One reason why I’m here. Why exactly are the Ethereals so interested in that armor you wear?”

“Asaru?”

“An Ethereal,” the man said. “One I’ve been working with.”

“Ah, Nebulan.”

“Is _that_ her name,” the man allowed a laugh. “No wonder she sticks with Asaru. Assuming that’s her name at all. She strikes me as the kind to never share her real self with anyone.”

“Who are you?” Abby demanded. “I don’t recognize you from anywhere.”

“It would be really odd if you did,” the man said. “Since you’re going to die soon anyway, you deserve something. Konstantine Volikov. Or just Volk. Freelance mercenary or assassin, depending on your definition. Killed a lot of bad people over the years. Killed a lot of people associated with them too, who may not have been as bad.”

“How noble,” Abby said flatly. “One of the good assassins then? Now working against your own species?”

Volk smiled and raised a finger. “‘Good’ is somewhat subjective, don’t you think? But in the context of my line of work, I can safely say I was a lot more ethical than certain members of ADVENT. I didn’t take big contracts or do it for the money. People were suffering in some form? They got word to me and I took care of their problems.”

“And now you fight against us.”

“This may surprise you, agent,” he shrugged. “But not everyone thinks ADVENT is the best direction for our species. Call me a believer in classic democracy, but ADVENT is a bit too authoritarian for my tastes. They’re not the first of their kind, just look at history for that, but I can safely say that they’re the most competent – which to me, is very dangerous.”

Abby let out a sharp laugh. “Do you honestly believe that the _aliens_ are going to be better?”

Volk uncrossed his leg, and leaned forward. “Better? Absolutely not.”

“What?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Volk seemed to find her surprise amusing. “The Ethereal Collective is no better than ADVENT, and as much as Asaru likes to blame a lot of it on ‘propaganda’ I’m not the idiot assassin she sometimes thinks I am. I don’t believe the Collective is _worse_ , as they both commit atrocities – such as the experimentation on captives, invasion of planets or countries who oppose them, and so on.”

“But you still side with them over your own species.”

“I _do_ ,” he nodded. “Because the alternative is a future dominated by ADVENT – and unlike the previous incarnations of that kind of government, they will not fall to violent revolution or peaceful change over decades. The systems are not designed for that. They are designed to keep people loyal to ADVENT, approving of their constant watch. Their representatives ‘elected’ are chosen by the government, and any form of dissent and protest against anything they disagree with is met with swift and sudden _justice_.”

He paused. “It’s unfortunate. I do admire ADVENT’s competency, and some of their measures I do agree with. But the system will be abused far more than it already has been if it is allowed to win. I give Saudia and the Commander credit for putting it together. They learned, and if they win, it will be deserved. But I’m not going to let that happen without a fight.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abby would have shook her head. “ADVENT was _designed_ so that it couldn’t be abused.”

“Every single system invented can be broken and manipulated,” Volk countered. “ADVENT is no exception. I’ve done my research, which is helpfully public – Election Oversight has direct authority over who can and cannot run. Which is run by appointees from the Executive Branch. The Congress passes laws and legislation hidden from the public. I would say you probably know more than me what kind of extensive authority ADVENT Intelligence has over surveillance,” he waved a hand. “Granted, it’s not like that’s actually new. But at least there was at least an illusion that governments respected privacy. They don’t even bother with that anymore.”

“And what illusion are you under that the aliens will be any less controlling and more benevolent?” Abby shot back. “Do you _really_ believe they will suffer rebellion or any kind of insubordination? Are you that naïve? The Ethereals don’t _care_ about us, or the little people. They see themselves as _better_. _Superior_. ADVENT does what they feel is best for Humanity. I’ve _spoken_ to one of them who says this! You can _disagree_ with that, but I can guarantee that they believe every action they take is for the best interests of our species.”

Volk stood up, appraising her. “I am aware of Ethereal and alien superiority. Will the aliens be benevolent or controlling? I can’t say, but I can look to the other species. The Sectoids have autonomy. The Andromedons do as well. The Vitakara are under the Zararch in their police state – similar to ADVENT now that I think about it – but their circumstances are brought on through Ethereal manipulation and their innate pacifism. Humans are a little more likely to strike back, if you haven’t noticed.”

His lip twitched. “I’ve been promised certain things for the future governance of Humanity. Acceptable compromises for autonomy. Do I expect the aliens to follow through? Not completely. If they turn out to be just as bad as ADVENT, then I will happily wage the same war I am now.”

“Alright then,” Abby growled. “So why not do that now?”

“If I have the choice between a government established by Ethereals, or by ADVENT, I will take the Ethereals,” Volk explained. “ADVENT is too smart and competent for its own good. I don’t think I can win against it on my own. But the Ethereals? Too self-absorbed in their own importance, too focused on other things to be bothered to worry about their collective species. I’ve talked with enough aliens and read enough reports to know the Ethereals are simply not interested in managing a multi-species government, and rely on others to keep them in line. The Hive Commanders. Andromedon Federation. Zararch. No Ethereals.”

He looked down at the symbol on the chest of her armor. “In some way, Agent Gertrude, we both want the same thing. I would prefer our species not to be under an authoritative and controlling power, and for us to expand and grow our own influence. But our visions for Humanity differ too drastically. You believe ADVENT is the future and fight towards it. I abhor this future and will take on whatever means I can to change it – and make something better.”

He waved a hand aimlessly. “Will I succeed? Maybe, maybe not? I could still die, or Asaru could go back on her word and control my mind. But she’s _seen_ it, and still done nothing. Perhaps she underestimates a mere Human, perhaps she does not fear because she is genuine. I can’t be neutral in this war, Agent, and you agree. Everyone must pick a side to support. I have chosen mine.” He gave a thin smile. “And ironically, for likely the same reasons as you have chosen yours.”

Abby let the silence hang for a minute. “Why are you telling me this at all?”

“Because I want to know what’s so special about that armor,” Volk nodded to her. “Asaru made a massive risk bringing you back without understanding it. Which means she knows something, and I want to know why.” He pursed his lips. “You deserve to know why a Human is, in your eyes, joining the wrong side. So I’ve told you, because you are going to die, Agent, one way or another. But if you care about the future, I need to know if there is something else to be aware.”

Abby had an idea of what they wanted, and she realized that they were going to be very disappointed. She allowed a laugh. “You caught the wrong person. You, or the Ethereals, aren’t going to be able to get anything out of me because I don’t know it. But there is something else out there. Something even the Ethereals fear.” She smiled under her helmet. “But they won’t tell you that.”

Volk appraised her for a minute, then nodded. “Thank you, Agent. I have what I wanted.”

“Tell Nebulan I’m sorry she wasted her time,” Abby said. “And that XCOM is coming for her now.”

“I didn’t come because Asaru asked me,” Volk said, turning away and picked up his chair. “I’m here on my own. She’s busy preparing to move you. I don’t know where, but you will be off Earth very soon. Within an hour at most. I wish you good luck.”

“Much appreciated,” Abby said dryly. “XCOM will be coming after you now too, and they will kill you.”

He just smiled, showing bright teeth. “I suppose we’ll see, Agent. I hope they put up as good a fight as you did.” Volk stepped out of the room before she could retort to his final words, and the hum of the room she was in became the dominant sound. The minutes ticked by, or maybe it was seconds. Time didn’t matter here.

There was a function in her HUD which had flashed ever since she had woken up, but she refrained from thinking about it too much.

Not yet. Just wait a little longer and see what happens.

XCOM would come. She could only hope she was still around when it happened.

***

_Throne Room of the Imperator – Temple Ship of the Ethereal Collective_

_2/6/2017 – 12:15 A.M._

It was the first time Imperator had asked to speak to her in the middle of the night. A brief telepathic communication was all that was needed for her to be woken up and be fully awake. Mildly annoying, but she knew he wouldn’t have bothered if it wasn’t something important.

As it turned out, it was.

“There has been a development.” The Imperator sat on the throne overlooking the empty room. The hologram projectors were on, though not showing anything. Waiting for the appropriate moment, she supposed.

“What kind of development?” She asked.

“Nebulan’s actions in South America have come under ADVENT and XCOM investigation,” the Imperator said, with the hologram of South America helpfully appearing. “A team was formed to investigate, led by your former squadmate and now Intelligence agent Abigail Gertrude. Her team was primarily composed of these individuals.”

Pictures of several other ADVENT personnel flashed up, none of which she recognized. “I’m aware of Abby’s operation,” Patricia recalled. “Zhang had mentioned he’d be sending her there. I was never able to be updated since I’ve been…here.” She nodded to indicate the rest of the room. “What happened?”

“Nebulan ambushed their convoy and removed that threat to her operation,” the Imperator said slowly. “Agent Gertrude is recovered and will be transported to the Forge, where it will then be transferred to the Temple Ship.”

Patricia felt cold at that. This was definitely intentional. “ _Why_?”

“Because I suspect she is affiliated with the Sovereign One, T’Leth, or aware of his operations,” the Imperator said, and the hologram of an armored figure appeared. Patricia wouldn’t have been able to make out the gender or identity, but she then remembered a _very_ important thing she had previously forgotten.

“The armor,” she recalled. “The Chronicler. She spent a long time with them. We didn’t know what it was or how it worked. Sovereign tech was all we knew.”

“She is potentially compromised,” the Imperator said. “An agent of the Sovereign One.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Patricia shook her head. “She even said that what the Chronicler said when he was…controlled…was disturbing. If she was an agent-“

“And why would she keep the armor?” The Imperator asked. “Why would T’Leth _allow_ someone not under his direction to take advantage of the technology within it? You may not have known about it, but that does not change that she has likely been compromised. You cannot trust her.”

“You want me to speak to her,” Patricia said slowly. “Another test.”

“I suspected you would object to interrogating her as a Sovereign Agent,” the Imperator explained, shutting off the holograms. “But you are a person who could determine where her loyalty truly is. I have little interest in a lone XCOM agent. I only value the knowledge she has, and the armor she wears. Should those be provided to me, then I will allow her to be returned to XCOM.”

“If I convince her to give it to me,” Patricia finished. “She isn’t going to trust me here, and I won’t lie to her.”

“Then don’t.”

“And if I can’t convince her?”

“Then she will be turned over to Fectorian and the Voice to begin analysis,” the Imperator said. “I have not ruled out a possible rescue attempt from T’Leth to preserve his secrets, but he would not risk penetration of a fortress watched by Mosrimor himself. You would likely not see her again, but this is the first opportunity to learn about this T’Leth and his capabilities. A sacrifice, but a justifiable one.”

“And if I get her out of the suit, she will live,” Patricia repeated. “No strings attached.”

“I have not lied to you so far,” the Imperator stated. “I will not lie now. I do not give you false hope for your friend. You understand the stakes. How you handle Abigail Gertrude is up to you, but understand she will likely reject you for what you have come to realize.”

“I know.”

This was going to be difficult to put it very lightly. How was she going to convince Abby, who she was certain was _not_ a Sovereign Agent, that she needed to tell her everything about it, give over a priceless suit of armor to the _Imperator_ , and trust it was the right thing to do? Not to mention she was going to think Patricia was compromised and under the Imperator’s sway, even if that _wasn’t_ true.

Was Abby really going to accept a seemingly-empty platitude of “This is not as simple as it looks”?

Patricia had been able to do that, even if it had not been what she would call a fun experience. Not always pleasant to learn that the sides of the conflict you were in were not so clear cut. But Abby? She would call what the Imperator said lies, and say he was using her. It was frustrating because even if she told the truth, there was a very high possibility that it wouldn’t be enough.

Abby wasn’t a telepath who could verify if one was telling the truth or not. All she had to go on was trust and experience. Patricia really hoped that would be enough to make her at least listen. But if Abby was wearing that armor, she had a sinking feeling that XCOM itself was too far gone. Too influenced by a Sovereign One.

She hoped not. She hoped Abby would say otherwise. If she knew about what was recently going on at base at all.

“I will inform you when she arrives,” the Imperator said. “Think on how you will convince her.”

Patricia walked away, pondering how to do exactly that.

***

_Skyranger, En route to Mission Site_

_2/6/2017 – 12:07 A.M._

Oliver really, _really_ wanted to have been at the meeting when XCOM had decided to make…certain decisions. Decisions which, while certainly… _unique_ , were utterly bizarre when viewed from any kind of reasonable standpoint. Of course, with XCOM, nothing was ever normal and by now he should have realized that.

But he imagined that this _particular_ conversation had gone along the lines of the following.

_“Everyone, we need a new weapon,” the Commander said. “Something that the aliens won’t ever expect. Something that no one would even think of as a good idea.”_

_Shen made an awkward cough. “Perhaps that would be because it wasn’t a good idea?”_

_“Quiet,” all of them said in unison._

_“I’ve got one!” Zhang said ecstatically. “We make our suits of armor shoot nanites and can reproduce themselves! Nothing wrong could possibly happen!”_

_“Good, good,” the Commander said, but shook his head. “But too standard; too predictable. Next!”_

_“My turn!” Jackson said. “We make an AI that’s much better than anything they have! Nothing wrong can ever happen when making a machine smarter and faster than us!”_

_“Almost, almost,” the Commander muttered. “But we need to think outside the box, people!”_

_“I’ve got it!” Vahlen suddenly shouted. “We make an army of giant killer octopi and use them against the aliens!”_

_The room burst into applause with some of the Internal Council randomly shouting out “Brilliant!” as they toasted to this completely normal and sound idea and immediately drew up plans to make it reality, as well as the other, more mundane ideas._

_And that was how XCOM ended up with giant killer octopi._

Giant killer octopi that made the happiest little trilling noise whenever they poked their heads out of the little aquarium that it rested in. It was downright creepy how there were different tones to its trilling, and it varied depending on the person in question. The Shoggoth seemed to like him…or so he hoped.

The Handler for the Shoggoth, Sylvia Allais, had not exactly made him feel better by telling all of them that “The Shoggoths are really, really smart. Don’t worry, they like Humans and would never hurt any of you.” It had taken every bit of willpower not to pull away when the black tentacle reached out and touched his skin, before being withdrawn back into its tank.

But not before it made the happy trilling noise.

Of course, Geist was fascinated by the creature, and hadn’t taken his eyes off the creature since they’d taken off, not even putting his helmet on. For all Oliver knew, he was trying to probe its mind. Zara Venator just coughed. “I hope these creatures live up to the hype. No offense, little Cthulhu.”

The Shoggoth trilled. Zara stiffened. “Please tell me that was a coincidence.”

“It has eyes all around its body,” Sylvia explained happily; the young woman seemed ecstatic to be here, which was an interesting change. “They’re smart, like I said. He probably knows that he’s the center of attention and wants to make everyone happy.”

“So,” Analyn Roxas coughed. “You, ah, been doing this long?”

“XCOM brought me on because I did work with military dogs,” Sylvia said, letting the Shoggoth wrap its tentacle around her unarmored hand. “They wanted someone to do the same thing with Shoggoths. Granted it’s not _quite_ the same thing, but they’re smart and easily trainable, and adorable in their own way.”

Oliver looked at the massive black tentacled creature. “Adorable.”

“Oh, yes!” Sylvia nodded. “You should have seen when I gave it a Rubik’s cube. It only took a few days for it to be solved.”

“What,” Zara said flatly. “Are you making that up?”

“Well, maybe embellishing it a bit,” Sylvia hesitated. “It’s not _quite_ a full Rubik’s cube. But it is a cube where the sides can be manipulated. But we’re working towards helping them understand how to solve a full Rubik’s cube. Just need to build one that’s their size. The little ones we have just aren’t good enough.”

“A fascinating creature,” Geist finally said, still not taking his eyes off of it. “Their minds are near-impossible to penetrate.”

Oliver shot the psion a look. If _Geist_ of all people was unable to take control of it, then that was certainly an interesting piece of information. “Really?”

“He is correct,” Crevan Machas said, speaking for the second time. “It has been designed while preserving the distributed intelligence of the octopi. Nearly impossible for any traditionally trained psion to control. A perfect weapon against Ethereals.”

Out of all of them, Crevan was the one who stood out from the group. The first thing Oliver had noted when the Chronicler had introduced him was that he was freakishly tall, standing well over six feet. His first instinct was “Genetic modification” but he had nothing to back it up. His blue-green eyes also added to this, which while it probably wasn’t an _unheard_ of color, it had to have been rare.

The only indication of his age was the greying hair which was kept neatly back and wasn’t overly long. The demeanor of the man was…restrained at best; almost standoffish. Crevan had not spoken much, aside from a few polite acknowledgements. He was almost certainly a psion, though what kind or how powerful was up for debate.

If he was with the Chronicler, he supposed very powerful indeed.

Which then made him wonder, as Crevan didn’t wear the stony armor that other soldiers of the Chronicler had, but instead an odd mix of armor and cloth, with the chest, legs and arms having silver engraved armor on the limbs, while a teal blue cloth ran underneath it all. He’d also seen it have a hood on the back, though Crevan was not wearing it now. The last odd note was he wore fingerless gloves that went up to the first joint.

He was an odd one, and Oliver was curious to see what he was capable of.

He definitely did not seem to like the Shoggoth though.

“Alright, enough playing around with the little hellspawn,” Zara stood up. “You’ve all been partially briefed on what’s going on, so I’ll just go over it again. We’re headed to where we believe Nebulan has a base of operations; we are expecting heavy resistance and Nebulan herself. That means telepathic attacks possibly from within the skyranger. Psions will be protecting everyone as best they can, and we also have Aegis and several soldiers of the Chronicler to help with that.”

“Phantom Division?” Geist asked.

“Highly likely,” Zara confirmed. “And since she knows she’s taking a risk, there is a possibility there are more enemies we haven’t accounted for. The odds _are_ stacked in our favor, but do _not_ get cocky or overconfident. We’re fighting an _Ethereal_ , and that’s never taken lightly. We have three objectives in this mission: Find and recover Agent Gertrude, recover anything of value from the base, and kill Nebulan. Understood?”

“ _Yes, Overseer!”_

“We’re going to be using the Shoggoths to assault the base itself,” Zara said, nodding to Sylvia. “If what you’ve told me is accurate, they can clear the base from within. Archangel Taira will telekinetically drop them off. They’ll be able to fend for themselves I hope.”

“Definitely,” Sylvia confirmed.

“Shouldn’t we keep one in case Nebulan shows up?” Analyn asked.

“Nebulan doesn’t fight on the front lines,” Zara shook her head. “She might not be in the base, but she will never show her true self on the battlefield, or put herself in unneeded danger.”

“What are the chances she’d just flee?” Viktor Midthun asked.

“She might have already,” Zara admitted. “We don’t know. But if this is her main base of operations, she probably doesn’t want to let it go without a fight. The chances she will flee will likely depend on how we do. One reason we’re dropping the Shoggoths at the base. She will attempt to flee through a Gateway in all likelihood, and her psionics will be useless on them. Not to mention they specifically love to hunt down Ethereals.”

Oliver was very glad he didn’t have to worry about giant killer octopi coming after him.

“The frontal assault will consist of the rest of us,” Zara continued. “Archangels Taira and Hammarström will provide air cover. Aegis, Harper, and Machas will provide anti-Ethereal support as needed, as well as assisting in crushing their defenses. All goes well, this will be a short fight. But I wouldn’t count on it.”

“What about ADVENT?” Sylvia asked.

“They are also en route,” Zara confirmed. “Latest numbers were twelve teams of soldiers, around fifty, ten from PRIEST, a dozen MDUs, and a mixed team of Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons numbering twenty. They’ll be arriving no later than fifteen minutes after us. They will assist in flanking maneuvers by attacking from the angles we are not. The base will be surrounded, and we will eventually capture it.”

 _“Squad Overseer Venator, this is Big Sky,”_ Jason informed over the comms. _“We are approaching the landing zone. Please prepare for landing, there don’t seem to be any AA defenses, but I’m preparing for any evasive maneuvers. Landing is estimated to be two minutes.”_

The lights flashed to red.

It was about to begin.

***

_Unknown Location – Argentina_

_2/5/2017 – 10:40 P.M._

The battle was clearly not going to be over anytime soon, or at the very minimum, Asaru was preparing for the worst possible scenario. From the moment they’d returned she’d immediately left to…well, presumably contact someone of a higher rank than her, while Joreal began instructing the Phantom Division to prepare all defenses for battle.

For his part, he’d instructed Elena do the same, as well as begin backup and purging procedures for all their data. Unfortunately, there was a significant amount and Elena had apparently had an argument with one of the aliens on actually letting it happen. She’d finally gotten through, after Volk had intervened, but only _now_ was the procedure starting.

Collective systems really did have the most ineffective purging protocols possible. Copying everything was going to make everything take twice as long, but he couldn’t fully blame Asaru for not wanting to lose everything in case it turned out to be a false alarm. That being said, since she alone had put herself in this situation, he wasn’t feeling too bad for her.

What Agent Gertrude had said was…interesting.

He would have to inquire about it later.

Although that topic was fading from his mind when reinforcements began arriving from the Gateway. Out from the purple whirlpool had walked out nearly forty of what he could only describe as metal soldiers. Custodians were what they were called, and without wasting any time they had coopted the communication systems and established a direct connection to something called a Battlefield CODEX.

He hadn’t personally interacted with the metal soldiers, but they had not bothered communicating with him either, though they didn’t have any issues instructing Phantom Division soldiers where to go and give orders on what was needed. Asaru was occupied, so they were following the instruction of the Custodians.

It was slightly unnerving to see.

Out had also walked four aliens he’d never seen before. They _appeared_ to be Mutons, but were taller than even the Elites in thick black armor. Praetorians, Joreal had called them in awe. “They’ve _never_ left the Temple Ship before,” he’d said. “The Imperator must _really_ be expecting something to happen and this Human is _very_ important.”

At least Agent Gertrude was off-planet. Or at least Volk didn’t know where she was going. He _expected_ that she was being transported to the most secure location in the Collective, or perhaps being moved to multiple locations to reduce the chances of XCOM managing to track her down. But since the Collective was _still_ sending reinforcements, it appeared that there wasn’t just the _chance_ of a fight, there _was_ going to be an attack.

All for a suit of armor.

And now, even Asaru was seeming to become…concerned with the kind of reinforcements she was receiving. A half-dozen Spectres had just walked through the Gateway, and had immediately been appraised by the Custodians and followed unspoken commands. Perhaps they were also connecting to this Battlefield CODEX?

The Spectres were something that was as close to a WMD as he had ever seen. And from what had been demonstrated, it took another WMD to kill one. It was beginning to look less like this was preparing for a fight as it was a massive field test of sorts. It _would_ line up with what Gertrude had said.

Something the Ethereals would fear. If such powers were after them…then this was one of the best ways to gauge your own strength against them, especially if they were expected to respond in force. This wasn’t just a Phantom Division concern any longer, it appeared to be on the behest of the Imperator himself.

Volk felt like all of them were in much deeper than they had realized. Even Asaru seemed to be recognizing this, especially now that their latest guest had graced them with her presence.

“I did not request any assistance from Isomnum,” Asaru was saying, her Vitakarian form sounding irritated. “Take yourself and your minions away. I have enough soldiers here to kill ten XCOM squads.”

Her name was Sonoda Ikuko, and where she had come from Volk had zero idea. All he knew was that she was supposedly Human, and was a representative of Isomnum. She was flanked by two Sectoids who were encased in some black armor which seemed to have actually _infused_ itself into their bodies. They stood straight and tall – Vanguards for sure, and clearly cybernetically augmented.

But they felt _wrong_. There was something around them, and the pressure on his mind made him think that Asaru was protecting him from something. Ikuko in contrast was wearing what looked to be a completely standard lab coat, with several surgical tools and vials strapped to her waist and diagonally across her chest. She was definitely a middle-aged Asian woman, with her black hair slowly greying but put up very neatly into a bun.

And she was not intimidated by the apparition before her. “No,” she said softly, her voice with a malevolent echo to it. “I was sent at the behest of the Dread Lord himself. Only he can command me. I will assist in your defenses, and I can assure you that…well.” She moved her stone-grey eyes to look directly at Volk and smiled. “You _want_ me on your side. Your own people are insufficient.”

The woman smiled wider. “And you should prepare for one more. The Voice has been informed, and she will send one of her puppets to ensure that the Sovereign who dares interfere with us will be dealt with. This is by direct order of the Imperator. Do I make myself clear?”

“The Imperator would have informed me about this first,” Asaru growled. “You echo Isomnum’s insolence in speaking to your superiors.”

“Go and hide, Nebulan,” Sonoda said with a smile. “Hide as you always do when confronted with challenge. Go complain to the Imperator. Forego this pointless debate, I have work to accomplish.” She gestured as the two Sectoids marched away, and Asaru’s body vanished, though not before shaking her head at the woman.

Volk now felt very uncomfortable, being in the same room alone with her. She didn’t seem to have some kind of psionic aura around her, but anyone who worked with Isomnum was _not_ someone he wanted to be around alone. “And who are you?” She finally inquired, slowly walking over to him. He rested his hand on his pistol, not even pretending to be subtle. “Her latest interest? You aren’t a terrible specimen, I must say.”

Volk just coughed awkwardly. “Ah, _no_. Not anything close to that. I just work with her.”

“How unfortunate, but unsurprising,” Sonoda just began walking, and Volk fell into step behind her. “An Ethereal trapped in the past. Stuck with her familiar comforts and cults. A weak and cowardly Ethereal, who hides and misdirects all she can to prevent her greatest weaknesses from being brought to light.”

Volk snorted. “Don’t look too deeply into it. All of them have their gimmicks. Hers is just being evasive and playing with illusions.”

“If only it were so simple,” Sonoda said wistfully. “Yet I do not need to convince _you_ of her ill judgement at times. You fear she had made a mistake, and that everyone has become caught in something far larger than themselves. A conflict and goal which eclipses the galaxy itself. You are _correct_ , Konstantine Volikov. And that enemy is coming now.”

“Stop looking into my head,” he growled, swallowing.

“Are you afraid of what I will find?” She inquired, glancing up at him. “You think that _I_ care that you will turn on the Ethereals just as easily as you did your own kind if you don’t get your way?” She waved a hand. “You are merely a Human. You do not concern anyone that matters. Play in your delusions if you wish, Volk, I do not care overmuch.”

“Then stop looking.”

“I prefer to know people,” she said dreamily, her voice tinged with wonder. “Their ambitions, lives, and terrors. Strengths and weaknesses. What best to know how to shape and guide them. You could be a powerful tool, Volk, more than you already are. But that will unfortunately not happen until you understand one essential truth about yourself.”

He grunted. “Please, _enlighten_ me.”

“You are worth nothing,” she said without pausing. “You want to be the _hero_ of the story. The one who will guide all to your vision of the future. A champion of the forgotten and voiceless. But you are no hero, you are no grand character in this story. You are merely a weapon used by those who are your better. You are a stringless puppet going along the whims of your masters without knowing you are under their control. Your freedom; your influence are an illusion, for all know what one has to do to ensure your cooperation. Your…weakness. _Elena.”_

The dread which had been building up in him crystalized into ice when she finished. “Do you want me to shoot you?”

“I want you to _try_.”

He obliged and moved to reach his pistol…

And found he was frozen solid. He couldn’t even move his head. Sonoda just turned around, facing him, eyes tinged with purple. “Pointless. I could have told you as much.”

“Hell of a pep talk,” he growled. “No wonder everyone hates you and your master.”

She allowed a thin smile. “Most people hate to be told the truth. Consider yourself lucky that I gave you this privilege. Most are not told that their lives are utterly meaningless and pointless. They are content to rest in lies and comfort to never amount to anything. Few are worth having their eyes opened. You can be more, Volk, and that is the point I want to make. Purge yourself of your weakness and fears as I did, and you will have achieved something even many Ethereals do not realize.”

He wanted to say something, but he also didn’t want to speak to this woman any more than he had too. It was too unsettling and frightening to have her keep talking. He just wanted it to end and be freed. The purple light faded from her eyes, and she walked away, leaving him alone in the hallway.

 _“Useless doctrine. Incorrect timing and priorities.”_ Volk almost jumped at the voice behind him, spinning around to see a new terror before him. The black-robed figure was just taller than he was, with its face hidden in a hood. The arms were cloaked inside the robe as well, and he didn’t know if it was an Ethereal or some other alien.

The voice was strange; a mix of machine and a female. “Who are you?”

 _“I am the Voice of the Sovereign,”_ it said. _“And I am here to ensure that T’Leth is defeated.”_ A single arm emerged, one that looked sleek and metallic, with the black metal seeming to shift and change as if pointed behind him. _“Pay little heed to the words of Isomnum’s pawn. There is conflict coming, and it is time to prepare. Go. See to it that it is done.”_

***

_Nebulan Base Location - Argentina_

_2/6/2017 – 12:24 A.M._

“ _She is here_ ,” Aegis stated, as the soldiers stormed out of the skyrangers and into the line of trees surrounding the base. _“Be cautious_.”

The Archangels were grounded and following them for now, while the Shoggoths were loose and following at the end, being eerily quiet as they moved along the ground. Zara, Viktoria, Harper and Crevan were in the front, with the other Chronicler agent wearing the stony armor as usual. Oliver did wonder how the Collective was going to react to…well, many things that were about to be shown today.

The MELD Operators not the least among them.

Zara had hopefully been preparing.

Aegis suddenly jumped into the air, and created a solid psionic barrier underneath him, a block in the sky where he could oversee the entirety of the base. Purple energy flared around him and he motioned up. Ahead of them purple barriers rose around the base, effectively trapping whoever was still inside.

“There are many psions,” Geist muttered beside Oliver. “Powerful ones.”

The base before them was large. There had been some kind of camouflaging technology on the perimeter, but once the Skyrangers had penetrated it, they had seen that, while it wasn’t large enough for a large army, it was definitely a major base of operations for an Ethereal. Alloyed walls surrounded the internal bases, which were domed and curved as opposed to rectangular and angled. Several of them were interconnected.

They’d certainly built a lot in a fairly short time.

“Soldiers on the walls,” Harper noted, and Oliver saw that soldiers were lining the rooftops; soldiers wearing black armor aiming down with still precision. Interspersed between them were other humanoid figures in hoods and masks, carrying more traditional weapons. Human collaborators?

“Custodians,” Anastasia grunted, the psion clearly resisting the urge to let loose. “Damn it.”

In the center of the wall was the entrance, covered by a shimmering multi-colored shield.

One that suddenly vanished.

“Move to cover!” Zara commanded, as all of them slid behind trees, the psions glowed with power, and Zara encased herself in a sheath of nanites, black armor rippling around her as she prepared to face whatever would come out. Crevan and Harper stood behind her, as the Archangels prepared to fly. The Shoggoths even flattened themselves on the ground, massive black blobs staining the forest floor.

 _“T’Leth.”_ The voice came from a figure slowly walking through the entrance which re-engaged the shield as it walked through. It was a mix of robotic and female, but definitely unnatural. It almost reminded Oliver of the Overmind, if it was much smaller and had a black robe instead of orange. An Ethereal?

_“You live.”_

Oliver noticed Harper’s fists clench as the blue aura around him began to become visible. He wasn’t quite sure of the extent of the abilities or purpose of the Chronicler’s soldiers, but he was starting to get a better idea as Harper’s layered voice began speaking. But it was not the words of the Human, but something else. “ _I am surprised you managed to crawl back from the brink after I decimated your…defenses. I thought you deceased, Mosrimor, but I should not be surprised you slink underground and live.”_

Harper motioned him away. _“Leave this planet, Mosrimor. Leave this species. Take your puppets and go as far away as possible, or I will destroy you just as I did the last time – and will ensure your death forever.”_

 _“You do not make demands of me,”_ Mosrimor, was it? For all Oliver knew, this other entity was speaking through the robed figure. _“You have changed. I had thought you were above using species.”_

 _“I am not using them,”_ Harper stepped forward. _“We have come to an arrangement. One which begins with your destruction, and that of the Ethereal Collective.”_

 _“Lies,”_ Mosrimor sneered, taking a step forward, inexplicably seeming to grow larger as the robes appeared to retract into the skin, revealing a slender Ethereal-like body. It was almost stick-figure in appearance, with shifting skin. _Nanites_. Was the entire creature made out of them too? _“We do not make such with the lesser species. Even you know this.”_

Harper – or perhaps the entity, laughed. _“Have you informed your Ethereals about this? I am certain they would find such opinions curious.”_

 _“Kill them.”_ Mosrimor commanded, and the building tension dissolved into chaos.

Viktoria and Taira shot into the sky, the latter Telekine lifting the two Shoggoths with her as she flew towards the base and flung the creatures into it. They were on their own now. Viktoria unleashed a maelstrom of psionic power onto part of the wall, killing a section of the Custodians and Humans on it before being forced to move as plasma fire converged onto her position.

Oliver and most of the other soldiers began taking aim at the enemies on the walls, just as the barrier lowered and a dozen Custodians and Phantom Division soldiers marched out. The Mosrimor avatar motioned and an arm dissolved and reformed into multiple pillars that the Custodians and soldiers used as cover, while it reformed the arm within moments.

“Telepaths are attacking,” Geist stated from behind a tree. “You’re on your own for now.”

Crevan had not moved, only did a short wave as he was surrounded by a transparent globe which dissipated any projectile which entered the vicinity. After a few seconds appraising the situation, he raised a hand, fingers parallel to the ground and purple-white lightning erupted from the fingertips that slammed directly into one of the Custodians behind a nanite pillar, which subsequently collapsed onto the ground, twitching.

Oliver blinked.

The hell?

Harper blasted the Mosrimor avatar with a stream of blue energy, which was absorbed when the nanites reformed into a shield. It also wasted little time in having a portion of itself break off and begin consuming the fallen Custodian. Zara was marching forward, her nanite armor absorbing the plasma fire with seeming ease, as she formulated her own defensive structure from nanites, shedding the armor as she planned her next move.

“Watch out for Phantom soldiers!” Sylvia called out. “They’ll try and flank us!”

Branches were falling all around them and Oliver was quite certain a small fire was going to be started from the barrage of plasma fire coming towards them. “Ah!” Anastasia gasped as she moved back into full cover, a clear wound gaping from her elbow. The armor was already repairing itself and medical protocols were likely going into effect, but she was definitely hurt.

“Watch for snipers!” Oliver called, as he laid down some suppressive fire on the walls.

“Viktor, Oliver, Henry, Rosario move forward and lay down fire towards the entrance,” Zara instructed, and Oliver noticed that the ground around a good portion of her position was bare and stripped of…anything. “Nira, target those Humans. Analyn, Matthew, stay to the back and watch for flankers.”

Made sense that she would want the Medics in the back, but Zara wasn’t done. “Everyone else target the walls. Anastasia, make a new opening when you can.”

“Yes sir!”

Crevan and Harper were keeping the Mosrimor avatar at bay, with the occasional crack of purple lightning and blue energy streams. But the nanite puppet seemed to be adapting, as it was absorbing the lightning strikes and energy with hardened shields and soon _psionic_ shields – so it was a psion. He really needed to ask Crevan later how it was possible to shoot _lightning_.

Zara had built up her fortification wide enough for all of them to kneel behind, and all they needed to do was charge to the opening. Well, here went nothing. They charged into the hail of white and green plasma, taking a significant amount of direct hits which the armor was thankfully able to repair without issue, but it had depleted a good part of his reserves.

“Grenades!” Viktor called, as Phantom soldiers threw small spheres at them.

Unfortunately there was no place to take evasive action. Oliver actually managed to shoot one, and instead released a black swarm of nanites which landed right on top of him and began eating through his armor. His suit nanites responded and Zara was immediately on him, placed a hand on his chest and adding her own help to destroy the other nanites.

She quickly adapted to first securing the remaining spheres in additional nanite cases, and kicking them far away. She was too slow for one, which began eating into Rosario’s leg. He tried batting them off, but it only made some of the nanites get on his hand and start eating through it as well.

“Matthew, we need a medic here,” Zara ordered as she helped purge the nanites from his body. “ _Now!”_

“ _Copy!”_

A psionic maelstrom materialized to the right side of the wall, growing in intensity as the Custodians on the top moved away. Mosrimor motioned and a psionic shield appeared around the area that was being ravaged. Crevan shot another bolt of lightning from his fingertips, but this time he _sustained_ it, which was apparently intense enough that Mosrimor had to dedicate more concentration to the shield protecting him.

With no protection, the wall eventually was rent into enough pieces that there was a noticeable gap. More than enough for one or two soldiers to get through. Oliver managed to clip a Custodian as it spun out to shoot him, although it appeared that they had self-repairing armor as well. Those machines needed to be killed quickly if any lasting damage was to happen.

“Viktoria, Taira, report.” Zara commanded in a clipped voice.

 _“They know what they’re dealing with,”_ Viktoria’s voice was tight. _“They’ve got Custodians at every single juncture possible and I’m pretty sure they’re linked together. We can’t stop evasive maneuvers until they die.”_

“ADVENT will be coming soon,” Zara told them. “Pull back if needed and support them when they arrive. You got the Shoggoths in. Hopefully that’ll take care of the telepaths inside.”

_“Copy, we’ll work on that.”_

At least there was some good news. They weren’t having to deal with Nebulan’s illusions. Although, given that their own telepaths were essentially taken out of the fight in any meaningful capacity, it wasn’t a trade without cost. But he felt they were making progress.

When ADVENT came, that was when the real show would start.

***

_Unknown Location_

_Unknown Time_

The room she was in was best described as a mix between a workshop and medical room. It was massive, tools were strewn out all along the tables, and there were machines that were attaching components and inserting cybernetics towards various aliens under some type of anesthetic. The black-armored Custodians stood throughout the room, at the entrance, and two before and behind her.

In the middle of the room, looking at a holographic recreation of the armor she was wearing, was Fectorian. He was largely as Aegis had described him. Half of him seemed to be machine, and even the upper set of limbs had ports and places to further augment his strength. The additional set of limbs and manipulators from his back was retracted as he considered the hologram before him.

He had taken scans through means she didn’t know, but she _did_ know that he wouldn’t get anything important. No more than XCOM, anyway. In the meantime, she needed to think of how she was going to get out of this.

No…

She was afraid that it was over. That there _was_ no way out of this. That this was the end for her. Either life as an unwilling test subject as the Collective tried to pry the armor off of her piece by piece, or she could trigger the self-destruct sequence in her armor. It would destroy the armor and prevent the Collective from ever using it.

But she would die as well.

Did she want to completely give up now?

No. Not yet.

Not until she knew it was truly over. She knew they couldn’t control her. They could read her mind all they wanted, but they couldn’t force her to comply. She _couldn’t_ comply even if she wanted to, especially if it was demanded by an alien. The Manchurian Restraints were harsh and unrelenting, but she was grateful for their rigidity in this case.

In theory, she knew that she could technically exit the suit on her own. She could subvert the Restraints in some way. But she would not do that, no matter what happened.

“I know you are awake, Agent Gertrude,” Fectorian said, without turning to her. “There is little point in keeping silent.”

“And what exactly would I have to say to you?” She asked dryly. “Both of us know I’m not going to cooperate with you.”

Fectorian turned. “I care little for your cooperation or not. I’m merely curious about something.”

“Shoot.”

“The Sovereign One whose armor you bear,” Fectorian said. “What do you know about him?”

If Abby could have shrugged, she would have. “Can’t answer that. I don’t even really know what a Sovereign One _is_. Other than it’s old and powerful…and this one is interested in helping us.” She gave a thin smile under her helmet. “I know I’ve said this before, but you captured the wrong woman. I can’t give you what you want.”

“T’Leth.”

“What?”

“His name, the Sovereign, T’Leth,” Fectorian said, shutting down the hologram and walking over to appraise her. “From what our own Sovereign has told us, he is a master of war. Weapons and armor like no other. And a loner – which makes his interest in your species curious.”

Abby found it really ironic that she was learning about all of this in a situation where she was quite possibly trapped in with no escape. “Curious? Why? Thought you Ethereals knew everything.”

“Consider it a professional curiosity,” Fectorian explained. “A contrast of what little I know of these beings. They do not line up with what the Imperator has stated, either out of ignorance or agenda. I have had encounters with two Sovereigns, and have not been reassured. I want to know if your Sovereign is different.”

“Again,” Abby sighed. “You’re asking the wrong person. And what would that change?”

“Because it would either confirm the Imperator’s suspicions as to the nature of Sovereign Ones, or refute them,” he answered. “I do not know how much you are aware of the Bringer, but I am concerned the Imperator’s judgement is compromised. His handling of such leaves much to be desired. I need more information. I need more data. You serve as a key to this, despite not being directly connected, or so you claim.”

“Please get to the point.”

“I want to speak to T’Leth,” Fectorian stated. “Or a true representative.”

Abby blinked. “What?”

“Your species is an interesting challenge, and as the Battlemaster has instructed, I will provide him weapons to match ADVENT,” Fectorian opened a hologram port on his palm which flashed through designs Abby had not seen. “But I dislike being lied to or treated as a mere engineer simply because I do not care for the politics and maneuvering of governments. The war both our sides are in is based on lies; lies which have only recently been revealed to me. All for an outcome and objective I am not convinced by.”

“And what is that?”

“The death of a Sovereign One,” Fectorian stated. “His ultimate goal. He is convinced that the Sovereigns must be eradicated for the good of the galaxy. Earth is a trial run to achieve this on his own. The Bringer will be turned into his instrument and weapon.”

Abby snorted, then allowed a chuckle. “He really thinks it will be so simple? Even I see problems with this.”

“And I call such judgment into question,” Fectorian agreed with a nod. “But I am not Aegis. I will not abandon the Imperator on a hunch that he _could_ be wrong. And I will not be the Battlemaster and continue to go along with the plan blindly. No, I will do _something_ to determine the appropriate course of action. And you, Agent Gertrude, can assist me in this.”

“Really,” she waited. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because I am the only way that you have a chance of living,” he stated. “And more importantly, you could assist me in confirming that the Imperator is wrong. You know, and the Commander does as well, that you cannot win this war without help. Even if you have a Sovereign assisting you – we can call upon two. The Imperator can turn your world to cinders if he desired. So you need allies. _Ethereal_ allies.”

“And all you want is to talk to T’Leth,” Abby said dubiously. “Really.”

“It would be a start,” Fectorian confirmed. “The Imperator overlooks me, and believes I do not care about the wider galaxy. To a certain extent this is true, but in this situation I cannot ignore it. You would almost think he forgets that _I_ am the one who ensures his technological superiority. And that I am not a meek servant like Sana’Ligna.”

“To be fair,” Abby coughed. “I doubt Aegis would have-“

“He only knows me by reputation,” Fectorian interrupted. “Few care to know me, and I prefer it that way. People are fallible, illogical, and unpredictable. Machines are straightforward and simple by comparison. What others think of me is irrelevant in this case, Agent Gertrude, do you wish to hear my proposal or not?”

Abby considered. If this was a large elaborate trick…it was a damn good one. And she hadn’t agreed to anything yet. She could at least hear him out. “Fine.”

“You will be given a choice,” he said. “I am unsure as to where you will end up, but you will face Patricia-“

_“What?”_

“Ah, yes,” Fectorian paused. “You would not know. She has been a guest for some time; she seems to have been convinced of the Imperator’s plan and I suspect it is only a matter of time until she commits fully. She will attempt to convince you to take off your armor in exchange for your freedom.”

“A _guest_?”

“Yes, yes,” Fectorian seemed mildly annoyed that she was focusing on this. “And ironically appears to have his favor more than me.”

Abby slumped in shock. Was that actually true? Patricia a _traitor_? She never thought something like that could actually happen…but she remembered what Aegis had said about the Imperator. People changed around him. They began to see his perspective and conformed to his ideals and values. Had Patricia succumbed to this? Was she _lost_ forever?

She’d been concerned that Patricia was in a cell to be used as a test subject or as bait for something later.

But this was far worse.

“And what should I do?” Abby asked weakly. “I won’t give them the armor.”

“No, you won’t,” Fectorian agreed. “I suspect you would die before you allowed that, and your conditioning would prevent it as well. Does your armor have a self-destruct feature you can activate?”

This was perhaps a moment of truth. If…something happened…she looked to the top left of the screen where the prompt was. The blinks in sequence would be all that was needed. She just needed to decide if she should disclose that information to Fectorian.

Time to take a risk.

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Once you hear Patricia attempt to convince you, activate it.”

“What?” She asked. “I’ll die.”

“Correct, you will,” Fectorian confirmed. “And deny the Imperator the armor and ensure that you are for all intents and purposes, dead.”

“I follow that…” she shook her head. “But how does that help you?”

“Because before I send you to the next location in…” he paused briefly. “Two of your hours, I will need you to take off your helmet and take a full and complete scan of your brain and gather several tissue samples. I will use these to clone you and restore your mind, and you will be free to return to T’Leth without the suspicion of the Imperator, and I will be at least spoken to. As I suspect right now, they would consider any such approach a trap, and I have no way to do this without drawing suspicion.”

Abby slumped her head down, thinking furiously. This was some elaborate scheme to cheat death for the possibility of _maybe_ getting an Ethereal ally? One who might just decide to keep her as a conditioned slave like all of his other soldiers? Was it worth the risk? And if he was lying about all of this, even taking off the helmet could be dangerous and give him one piece of Sovereign technology.

“How do I know you’ll even follow through?” She demanded. “This could all be a lie.”

Fectorian just stared at her for a moment. “If you are so concerned that this is an elaborate scheme to remove your armor, the _Imperator_ is expecting you as you are now. There is little stopping you from simply saying what we were talking about. The Imperator, the paranoid leader he is, would almost certainly attempt to read my mind to confirm one way or another. Or simply look through your own memories. We both stand to gain and lose here, Agent. You will need to trust me, yes, but consider what you could accomplish without this. You will simply die. Now you have a chance to gain an ally for your war.”

“But I have no guarantee you’d even be on our side.”

“Not until I speak to T’Leth, yes. But that is a risk you have to take.”

Abby considered.

It all came down to if she could trust Fectorian…not as an individual, but trust that he was sincere in his plan. And from what she could tell…he was. And the more she looked at her situation, the more she knew that there was no way out. She would die in all likelihood, and all she would accomplish would be denying the Imperator some Sovereign armor.

And if Fectorian was lying…all he would get from her is a clone and a mind he could already penetrate.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll help.”

“Excellent,” he pressed a button on his lower arm and the restraints retracted and she fell to the ground. As she stood, he was already walking over to a table. “You will need to be put under for this. We have limited time, so please remove your helmet.” After some hesitation, she complied and set it on a nearby table.

“It will destroy itself if you touch it,” she warned, going to lay down on the table. “Fair warning.”

“I understand,” he did glance over to it. “I will also need to erase your memories of this conversation. It would not do for Patricia or the Imperator to learn of this, now would it?” He nodded to a Custodian. “I have recorded this. When you are awakened in your new body, it will be played to you.”

Abby didn’t like it, but she knew that it was the logical step to take.

She sincerely hoped Fectorian was telling the truth, and she wasn’t making a big mistake.

***

_Nebulan Base Location - Argentina_

_2/6/2017 – 12:50 A.M._

ADVENT was knocking at their door, and Volk was not in the right frame of mind to fight. XCOM was keeping the odd Sovereign avatar occupied, as well as a good portion of Custodians and Phantom Division soldiers. ADVENT had split their force into two separate blocs which were now assaulting from the other sides.

The Archangels still roared overhead, but the Custodians were keeping them occupied, although it largely depending on them not being attacked. And right now, that situation was growing more and more precarious. And even within the base there were enemies.

As Volk was finding out.

“Repeat that!” He demanded as he stormed along the walls, aiming his sniper rifle down at the mass of ADVENT soldiers. “There is _what_ in the base?”

 _“A….”_ gunfire went off in the background. _“An octopus. A giant octopus!”_

“Well then _kill_ the giant octopus!” Volk yelled, as he sniped yet another soldier.

 _“We’re trying!”_ Was the cry. _“It’s not dying!”_

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. The last thing he needed were rants of giant killer octopi in the base. “Get Phantom Division support in there then. Use nanite grenades –“

 _“Spectre here!”_ Came the call. _“Looks like we’ve got it!”_

About time. Volk returned to the situation at hand. Overhead there were also helicopters circling, and they were maneuvering to begin laying down fire of their own. One of Sonoda’s Sectoids was also along the wall, and raised a hand towards it. Volk didn’t know what it was doing, but it appeared that the PRIEST reinforcements were having a hard time dealing with the amount of psionic power at play here.

A Spectre materialized along the wall, took a look down into the ADVENT soldiers who were massed and advancing, and dissolved to appear down on the ground. It didn’t take long for ADVENT to notice and they pointed out the machine with frantic warnings. One of the Priests motioned and the Spectre was trapped in a psionic box.

Couldn’t have that.

Volk lined up his sights to the offending Priest, and fired after a few moments. The Priest fell backwards, a new hole in his helmet. Volk quickly ducked back as a hail of gauss fire slammed near him. From above the helicopters unleashed their weapons along the walls, ripping several of the Custodians apart and allowing the Archangels freedom to operate.

More Spectres appeared along the wall, and went down to decimate more ADVENT forces. But with the Archangels in play, the game had shifted and the Custodians were quickly reforming the skylines. The black armored Sectoid made a chittering noise, flared with purple energy, and one of the helicopters began tilting until it soon crashed into the ground in a loud explosion.

One of the Archangels was showing wisps of purple energy off of them…no… _both_ of them were. “Both Archangels are psions,” he hissed into his mask. “Priority target on them.” The Custodians seemed to have the right idea as the wall opposite him was engulfed in a psionic tempest. Dropping to one knee, he quickly aimed for a series of weaknesses that – if it hit – would likely cripple her completely.

Gunfire and screams in the background he tuned out and inhaled.

He pulled the trigger.

Slight right.

Trigger.

Both engines on her back exploded and she wobbled into the air as gravity took hold and began plummeting to the ground. The other Sectoid of Sonoda’s had leapt out of the way of the psionic maelstrom, and extended a black-armored hand to catch her. The Archangel became encased in a purple-tinged grip of the alien, as more psionic mist ravaged the armor.

The other Archangel swooped down with a yell and the Sectoid…well, Volk didn’t quite see what happened, but it looked like the Sectoid ceased to exist and instead turned into chunks of grey flesh and black metal. She gathered the fallen Archangel in her arms and shot back into the sky and back to where XCOM was still fighting, dodging and weaving through the Custodian fire.

They were temporarily out of the fight. In the meantime, he needed to check up on how the battle along his own wall was. Phantom Division soldiers were shooting at one of the helicopters, and ADVENT was firing rockets into the walls with the MDUs engaging the Custodians in a battle to see which machine was superior.

The Spectres on the ground were chewing through ADVENT defenses, and the Priests were being pushed to their limits to contain them. They had already consumed half of the opposing force, although there the Lancers were countering that with EMP tools to destroy the nanites. It was a fight that could still go either way.

“Elena, how is it going on your end?” He asked, changing tactics and deciding to see how he could deal with the helicopters.

_“ADVENT pushing forward. Archangel attack severely crippling. Possibly retreat.”_

“Understood.” Not good. If even one of the faults was breached, it was going to end in a losing battle. He was expecting XCOM to eventually prevail, especially if _ADVENT_ was putting up a good fight against them. But if one of the sides fell…hmm. Asaru wasn’t a major help here, since she was preoccupied with ensuring that Aegis didn’t completely destroy them, and had limited his influence to placing psionic barriers around the base – which had dropped when ADVENT arrived.

He’d better update her. “Asaru, we should prepare for a retreat.”

 _“Have the purges completed?”_ She sounded strained – a first for her.

“Not important,” he shook his head, as he fired and took out one of the helicopter guns. “The east wall is going to fall to ADVENT soon, and I don’t know how close XCOM is to breaking through. Have the Custodians and Spectres hold off as long as possible and everyone else needs to get out. If they take control of the Gateway-“

 _“Inform me the moment there is a breach,”_ she cut him off. _“Only then will we retreat.”_

Volk gritted his teeth. “Understood.”

He’d better get a full explanation when all of this was over.

***

_Nebulan Base Location - Argentina_

_2/6/2017 – 1:22 A.M._

The medics were rushing all over the place as the injuries continued to pile up for them. Oliver knew they were making progress, but flanking attacks from the Phantom Division, pinpoint shots by the Custodians, and sniper fire from the walls was whittling them down slowly but surely. Unfortunately for the aliens, they were running out of tricks.

It was now a continuous battle between Zara and the Mosrimor avatar over which would get the raw materials from the bodies. It was still quite easily holding its own, but as another Custodian fell and with a motion it was consumed by the nanites, Oliver knew that sooner or later it would run out of enemies to consume.

Crevan was still keeping it occupied with intermittent lightning strikes, and was also responsible for frying several Phantom Division soldiers who had attempted surprise attacks. “Down!” Oliver yelled suddenly as one of the armored Phantom soldiers materialized behind them with a nanoblade in hand. His push into Zara made the jab miss, but unfortunately the alien followed up by stabbing it into his stomach.

He lurched at the white-hot pain as the alien tossed a grenade by Henry and the still-injured Rosario, and they couldn’t move out of the way in time before the green plasma detonated beside them. Zara was also damaged by the attack, but the nanites repaired her quickly and with a motion the soldier was shouting as he was slowly consumed.

“Matthew! Roxas! Need assistance!” Zara called as the combined XCOM fire once again focused on Mosrimor. Oliver looked down at the blade sticking out of him, wondering if he should touch it or if it would make things worse. Nanoblades were bad; that had penetrated his armor like it was nothing. Of course the downside was that it had to be at a good angle…which this strike had been.

He did _not_ want to have it break inside him.

Analyn was soon beside him as she looked him over quickly. “Good. Not broken inside. I can pull it out, but you _cannot_ move. Got it?”

He gave a nod and grunt. “Get it over with.”

She acknowledged his nod and wrapped her hand around the thin hilt. “One…two…three!” At the end she pulled on the blade and within a moment had drawn it out in a smooth motion with a short shout of pain from him. The medical properties of the suit had been utilized already, so she quickly sprayed his exit wounds with the med-kit. “We’ll have to check for internal damage later, but this should last until the end of the battle. Got it?”

“Got it,” he heaved, standing up again and aiming his rifle at Mosrimor. The entirety of the Collective reinforcements seemed completely depleted, and now it was only the nanite creature. The entire area around him, and Zara for that matter, was completely bare of any life or materials, all having been consumed in some form or another for the nanite operators.

It was only a matter of time until he lost.

Unfortunately, he seemed to realize that as well.

The shifting black nanites on his skin hardened to a glossy seamless finish, and a psionic shield appeared over himself as he began walking forward. Everything they had, XCOM fired into the approaching creature, but in his deceptively fast speed, he dashed to where Zara had holed up, giving Oliver a terrifyingly close glimpse of the massive alien.

He grabbed Zara, lifted her into the air and retracted the psionic shield around his hand as he began to send the nanites from his body towards her. She fought with her own MELD nanites, but she had been running low and had dispersed them onto the battlefield as fortifications or to negate other attacks. She had very few left to spare.

Oliver fired hopelessly into the psionic shield, but it seemed to be doing very little good.

A lightning bolt flashed, and slammed into Mosrimor…no…slammed into _Zara_. The conductive shock forced Mosrimor to drop her, even as Zara was twitching on the ground and smoking. Another psionic shield suddenly bisected the alien, with a cube appearing around it as the body fell into two pieces, blue blood revealing that there _was_ something living underneath the nanite armor.

It was an Ethereal. A small one by their standards, but a real one. The nanites likewise became dead and immobile, though Oliver definitely did not trust it right now. He looked behind him, wondering where that had come from. Geist slowly lowered his arm, then slumped forward slightly. “It’s fortunate that worked.”

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed as the medics rushed to Zara. “You couldn’t have done that a little earlier?”

Geist stared at him, and Oliver suspected that under the helmet was either annoyance or exasperation. “From the onset of this conflict I have been dealing with ensuring that three powerful telepaths don’t affect your vulnerable minds along with Aegis and the rest. It is not an easy task to accomplish, and I took a risk intervening like that. But with it dead, we can proceed.”

“Alright,” Oliver looked around at the soldiers who were either uninjured or mildly injured. He knew he needed treatment, but was fine for a while yet. “We move inside now. ADVENT will need help.”

“Yes, we move.” Geist nodded. “Since Viktoria and Zara are currently out of commission, I will take command for the remainder of the operation. What little of it is left.”

Oliver did not feel like contesting him, and Geist was probably the best to see the mission through. “Regroup and prepare to move forward,” Geist ordered. “Roxas! You will stay behind and ensure the wounded are stabilized and guarded. Xirau, you will come with us.”

“I will stay and guard against any other attacks,” Harper added. “And to ensure that this thing doesn’t have any more surprises.”

“Fine,” Geist curtly acknowledged. “We move out now. Let’s hope that there is still something left to salvage here.”

***

_Nebulan Base Location - Argentina_

_2/6/2017 – 2:03 A.M._

The base was falling, and there was no more time to waste. Volk, Elena, and a few of the Phantom Division were moving to find Asaru and ensure she got out. Apparently there was an unforeseen problem they had encountered on the route to the Gateway, even though she was protected by the Praetorians.

The retreat had been sounded, and Volk was torn between irritation that there was only one Gateway in the first place, and concern that they wouldn’t be able to get out in time before XCOM marched into the base proper and killed or captured everyone. This battle had already extracted a heavy toll from everyone involved.

Plasma fire was heard down the corridor, and they rounded the corner to see a bizarre and terrifying sight – namely that the Praetorians were engaged with a massive…octopus? There had been more than one?

More concerning was that there was a dead Praetorian on the ground, the limbs broken and twisted. The black monster was currently wrapping its massive tentacles around another Praetorian which was desperately trying to yank them off, but the suckers on the tentacles couldn’t be so easily removed. Normally this wouldn’t even be a concern for something as massive as a Praetorian, but the problem was that this octopus was _gigantic._

The corridor was maybe ten feet across, and the octopus was easily taking up that entire space, and more dangerously, didn’t seem to be that bothered by the plasma fire it took. They arrived just in time to see the octopus break one of the arms of the Praetorian with a loud crack, while making an utterly eerie trilling noise.

The Praetorian was unfortunately not dead either, and the creature didn’t seem to be in a massive hurry to finish the job.

“Fire!” Volk called out instinctively, even though it was likely a bad idea, not only due to the potential of crossfire, but also because shooting it didn’t seem to be working in the first place. Behind the rolling mass of black he saw his first glimpse of the elusive Asaru herself. In fact, she wasn’t too far off from some other Ethereals he’d seen.

Mostly a mix of light armor and robes, with a hood concealing her face. Her height would have easily towered over him, but next to the Praetorians, she was actually a bit shorter. What he couldn’t understand was why she wasn’t doing anything to the creature currently engaged in – and winning – against her Praetorians.

Not his problem right now. He could demand an answer on that later. The creature seemed to grow tired of the Praetorian and decided to kill it, breaking more limbs and the neck in a final squeeze before almost sliding to the ground and moving closer to the last two Praetorians – and Asaru herself. One of the Phantom Division soldiers pulled out a nanoblade and made the questionable decision to _charge_ forward.

“Woah, wait!” Volk called out in futile warning, knowing that was mostly likely _not_ going to work. Sure enough when it got close, a tentacle lashed out and wrapped around the much, much smaller Vitakarian’s arm. Luckily for the Vitakarian the free hand was the one which held the nanoblade, which he then plunged into the tentacle. The response was immediate and the creature made a higher-pitched trilling sound as it switched focus to the alien which had caused it pain.

Volk watched in fascination as the creature used another tentacle to pull the blade out of its arm, and with enough delicacy that it didn’t shatter the blade and leave chunks within it. Once the weapon was discarded, it wrapped said tentacle around the alien and crushed it. Well, another one down. This was great.

“We need a Spectre,” he muttered. “That seemed to work well against the last one of these.”

“Risky, but we need to kill that thing now,” another Phantom Division soldier muttered. “Back up! Nanites _will_ be loose!”

The soldier, along with the few remaining of the Phantom Division threw several of the nanite grenades to the creature and Praetorian it was currently wrapped around. They exploded into a fine black mist which immediately began clinging to both the alien and creature, and the response was immediate.

The Praetorian began furiously and futilely trying to get the nanites off of him, while the creature sort of flailed and flipped along the ground as it tried to get the nanites off of it somehow. It was moving away from, and up the wall where there was a small gap that…Volk wasn’t quite sure how likely it was, but that it had originally come through?

Octopi could apparently fit into very small spaces, and since this was a monster octopus from hell, maybe it could still do that? It didn’t matter, as both Asaru and the last Praetorian took the advantage and dashed past the carnage to catch up to Volk and the rest. “What the hell was that?” He asked out loud and they began rushing to the gateway.

“An experiment of XCOM, I suspect,” Asaru’s real voice was layered, but honestly not _massively_ different from the one she had used when not imitating a specific person. There was a vibration to her speaking that wasn’t present in her illusions. “One somehow immune to telepathy.”

“We’ll figure that out later,” Volk grunted as they ran. “Gotta get out of here now.”

It wasn’t long before they reached the room where the Gateway was stationed, and luckily it was still guarded and running. Volk had no idea where it was going, but that was the least of his concerns right now as the entire building shook and plasma fire became a lot more noticeable and close. Asaru went through the Gateway; Elena and several of his own soldiers soon followed, as well as those from the Phantom Division. He didn’t know if Sonoda was still here or if she’d already left. He doubted she was dead though, for some reason.

He didn’t check to see if the purging was complete. No time for that any longer, but at least he’d made a contingency plan in case they couldn’t be completely purged. He pulled out the detonator, and the dozen or so little EMP and explosive devices he’d placed on the computers went off. Wouldn’t be able to salvage them now, but it was better than ADVENT and XCOM getting their hands on them.

What a waste though. All for an enemy agent of questionable worth.

He did a quick check to ensure that the explosives were also set up on the Gateway, and once the timer began counting there was no going back. Fifteen seconds, and even then he felt he shouldn’t be waiting around, but also didn’t want to condemn any more to be left behind and killed or captured. The wall suddenly exploded outward, temporarily taking out several Custodians as the rest began firing at the encroaching XCOM soldiers through the dust.

The last Praetorian began firing into the smoke, and seemed to actually clip some of the encroaching soldiers. That was until a bolt of _lightning_ came out of nowhere and slammed into the alien, even managing to stun the massive Muton.

Time to go.

“Go! Go now!” He called, pressing the detonator and leaping into the Gateway with the crackling sound of lightning the last thing he heard before entering the swirling purple whirlpool.

***

_Unknown Location_

_Unknown Time_

Abby figured that the unthinkable had happened and that she’d fallen asleep. She vaguely remembered seeing Fectorian of all Ethereals, but he didn’t seem to have done anything except take a few notes before moving her again. She supposed it wasn’t out of the question that she had fallen unconscious. She was a sleep-deprived, wounded, and restrained mess.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, and if she should give up hoping for a rescue.

_No one is coming._

A worry that was becoming more and more true. Objectively…she realized that not even XCOM could follow to where she likely was right now. The Imperator; the Ethereals, they were interested in the Sovereign technology her armor contained, and they were going to take as many precautions as possible. She may have been moved dozens of times to various locations, and she figured she was far, far from Earth.

But eventually she would arrive at the place that would be her end, one way or another.

She knew why she was hesitating in pulling the trigger and removing everything they were working to. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not if there was a chance that she could get out of this one way or another. But…she was just deluding herself if she expected that someone was going to appear out of nowhere and save her.

That wasn’t how the galaxy worked.

Wishful thinking from a woman who was going to die.

The only question was _how_ she would die. As a broken experiment and lab subject, or in a defiant gesture against the aliens.

Between the two, there was only really one acceptable option.

She just needed to pull the trigger. All it would take was a few blinks and confirmations for the HUD to accept the self-destruct.

It was…different; being in this situation. She had been close to death many times before. She’d been in dozens of dangerous situations, and each time knew that there was a chance that it would end in her death. That hadn’t really scared her, it was just a reality she’d had to come to terms with. Others had died in front of her; people she’d known well. Death was very real, but it had always passed over her.

She’d been here since the beginning of XCOM. She’d gone through so much that it seemed like she would survive as one of the few since the beginning while everyone else died around her. Who else was still alive from the beginning? Patricia? Carmelita? The Commander and many of the Internal Council?

Not many. Herself among them.

Maybe she’d just gotten lucky so far. In war thousands died, and it was a numbers game where the odds weren’t in her favor. She’d finally screwed up bad enough that this was the consequence of that. It only took one mistake to kill you.

But this was worse for her, because she was now responsible for her death. Defying the aliens through suicide. It was long, agonizing, but something she ironically had control over. Death was an option, not something that happened instantly on a battlefield or out of her control. There was time to think about death now, and what would come after it.

She’d not really been a religious-minded person, not really thinking too much about it one way or another. She didn’t especially care much who believed what, and preferred to focus on the real world, not the what-ifs of what happened when one died. Maybe it was something she’d never really wanted to think about since she assumed if it would happen to her, it would be quick.

But now she wondered.

She didn’t know if there was an actual Hell or Heaven out there for her, or if she’d go to either one. But from what she’d seen and knew about…was it out of the question that there would be _something_ beyond death? Or perhaps it was just nothing and she would just cease to be nothing more or less.

Abby figured she’d soon be finding out, one way or another.

Her room was a cylinder of grey metal that suspended her through some kind of gravity or stasis field. She couldn’t move an inch, even if she wanted to. It was in the center of the room, and she was facing a mechanism that she knew operated as a door. There were likely cameras or surveillance in the room that she couldn’t see, and for all she knew, she was floating in a little metal box in space.

There was no way to break free; she’d certainly tried to no avail. All she could really do was wait, hope, and eventually face reality. The only silver lining she could see was that, right now, she was _probably_ at the end of the line. This was the end stop, and someone would come to see or check up on her eventually.

Perhaps right now she was on the fabled Temple Ship of the Imperator. Or more likely, somewhere else on an unmarked world or in uncharted space; unable to be found or located by anyone. She truly had no idea, but she did find it somewhat funny how the Ethereals were going to all this trouble for someone who didn’t know what they were actually after.

They thought her to be some agent of a Sovereign One, but in reality she was just a woman who had some of their technology. Which she supposed they could at least get out of it. The armor was too valuable to just give them. Best case scenario they learned how to replicate it. Middling case they learned how to penetrate or subvert it. Worst case was that they _improved_ on it.

None of those could be allowed.

Time ticked by at a pace that felt infinite. It didn’t seem to matter how fast or slowly time was passing here. All she could do was wait or end it once and for all. Maybe this was some kind of test the Ethereals wanted to do? Maybe see if she would kill herself out of boredom? That would almost be funny, except she doubted the idea would even occur to them.

There was a loud click in the room, and the door slid upwards. Finally someone was coming in to speak to her. When she saw who it was, she was immediately concerned that she was so sleep-deprived she was hallucinating. “ _Patricia?”_ She asked in disbelief, her voice cracking both due to a lack of water and not speaking for what felt like days.

Patricia Trask did stand before her, wearing the same Aegis armor she had been captured in. Granted, it looked like it had been polished and didn’t have any significant marring or soiled in any way. The scratches and chips on the armor did still exist, but it looked like she had been able to clean it recently.

How?

She was helmetless, and if her face was anything to go by, she seemed unhurt or wounded. She looked healthy, at least no worse than she had in XCOM. The orange rims of her eyes seemed to glow more brightly in a dimmer light of the prison she was in. Her hair was still lose and looked surprisingly good. Abby had always wondered how she’d always been able to keep her hair looking like that during her entire career in XCOM.

Patricia though looked very somber and serious.

She wasn’t here with a minder, or in any kind of restraints.

The implications began dawning on her.

It couldn’t be…

Not her.

“Hello, Abby,” she said quietly. “Long time no see.”

“Patricia…” she repeated, still trying to process it. “What…are you doing here?”

Probably not the best way to ask that question. It could mean different things. She of course meant what she was doing as an apparent…guest? Not necessarily what she was doing in this _room._

“I’m here to talk to you,” Patricia answered.

“But you’re…” Abby would have shaken her head, and instinctively tried. “You were captured!”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I was. And brought before the Imperator. We talked.”

 _Talked_.

“Patricia…” Abby swallowed. “Please tell me what I think is going on isn’t true.”

The woman in XCOM armor pursed her lips. “If we’re thinking the same thing, yes and no. Maybe. I’m not reading your mind now, Abby. You know I don’t do that.”

“Are you a prisoner here?”

“No.” Patricia confirmed immediately; somberly. “I’m not. I’m technically free to leave at any time.”

It didn’t make sense. “Then…why are you still here? Is he threatening you? Blackmailing you somehow?”

“No.”

“Then _why_?”

“Because it’s not as simple as just deciding to _leave_ or not,” Patricia said, beginning to pace. She was visibly unsure of the best way to express herself. Upon seeing that Abby wouldn’t be able to follow her, she quickly pressed a button on a nearby console, releasing the stasis field but erecting a near-transparent energy field that separated them. Abby confined to her little circle, with Patricia being able to move along the outside.

“I haven’t joined the Imperator, or the aliens,” Patricia clarified as Abby shakily got used to standing again. “Not yet.”

 _”Yet?”_ Abby demanded. “How is that even a _possibility_!? You _know_ what they are capable of. You _know_ what they’ve done. Aegis _warned_ you what the Imperator was like. How he turns everyone to his side.”

“Yes! Yes I know!” Patricia nearly shouted back, voice raw. “You have _no_ idea how much I’ve thought about it, but I _know_ things now! Things that I can’t just _ignore_ however much I might want to!” She ended with a sharp wave of her hand.

“What could you _possibly_ learn that would make you consider the Imperator over your own species?” Abby demanded. “Or over XCOM?”

Patricia closed her eyes, took a breath, then resumed talking. “Because of that symbol on your armor.”

Abby looked down at it. “What about it?”

“Humanity is now caught up in a cycle which has existed for…millions of years at least,” Patricia said. “One dominated by the Sovereign Ones. Immortal and powerful beings engaged in an endless war for universal domination. They care about nothing except their own goals and power, and the way they expand such is through proxies. Species. They pit them against each other in a grand game of galactic strategy and domination.”

She continued walking, focusing ahead as she talked. “Aegis thinks the Synthesized are the ultimate enemy. They’re a threat, but they are an obvious one compared to what the Sovereign Ones pose to not only Humanity, but every other species in the galaxy. Perhaps they are even under the control of one. I don’t know. Neither does the Imperator. If nothing is done, this will just repeat over and over again.”

Patricia stopped, and nodded towards Abby. “The Sovereign One T’Leth has taken an interest now. Humanity is in severe danger of becoming his puppet species to unleash against the galaxy. Didn’t you wonder how odd it was that the Collective assimilated multiple species, but decided to go to war with us?”

“At times.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Patricia nodded. “The Imperator suspected there was a Sovereign One on Earth. He needed to know that we weren’t under the influence of one. He intends to break this endless cycle of Sovereign puppets and proxies, and he intends T’Leth to be the first one to die. That is his plan, and from there the Collective will be reformed into a force to eventually challenge their grip on this galaxy.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Abby said. “Don’t the Ethereals _have_ a Sovereign on their side?”

“Yes,” Patricia said. “And it was through him that the Imperator became suspicious as to their motives. He is using him as a tool and source of information. He will be betrayed eventually, and the other Sovereigns will soon follow. We don’t stand a chance if we move into the inner galaxy, Abby, Sovereigns have already established power there. The war for this cycle has begun, and there can be no neutrality.”

“And so the Imperator invaded,” Abby said. “Because of something that _might_ have happened.”

“XCOM assaulted the base you were moved to,” Patricia said flatly. “Accompanied by agents of T’Leth. XCOM might be under his influence already. ADVENT might be. Humanity is already at risk of being puppeted, and I can’t just ignore that because the Imperator is supposed to be the _enemy_.”

“Have you considered that he _might_ be telling you what you want to hear?” Abby demanded. “He _knows_ what will work on you; what would convince you that _he_ is right-“

“Of course he fucking does!” Patricia spat. “Every time he talks I wonder if all of this is just some elaborate ploy to manipulate me. I wonder if I’m thinking certain things because I came to them on my own, or if he’s _making_ me think them. I’m not an idiot, Abby, you _know_ that. I’m still me.”

“Not if you’re thinking like this.” Abby shook her head.

“The Imperator has done nothing but speak to me,” Patricia stated. “He hasn’t tried to psionically influence me. Trust me, I’ve been keeping a very close watch on that. He wouldn’t be able to get something like that past me without some notice. Every single decision or word I’ve made here I’ve done of my own free will.”

“That you know of.”

“And _maybe_ it might be because it’s not as simple as ‘aliens bad’,” Patricia scowled. “Maybe it’s more complicated. Maybe I can’t ignore the proof that there is an ancient warmongering alien that wants control of my species. _Our_ species. Do you know what T’Leth was known for, Abby?”

“I didn’t even know what he _was_ until a few hours ago!”

 _“War_ , Abby,” Patricia gave a thin smile. “A warrior and weaponmaster. A master of forges and military design. Your armor and that rifle you wore were his creations. You saw how he took control of the Chronicler in Australia. T’Leth will use Humanity as a weapon against the galaxy, and the majority will never know it. We will be going to war against other proxy species for the amusement of the perceived gods of this galaxy. Is that something you actually _want_?”

“No, obviously not,” Abby shook her head. “But I’ve not seen anything to think that we’re under the control of a Sovereign One.”

“You’re wearing the armor of one,” she said. “His agents are working with XCOM.”

“And I _don’t know_!” She shot back. “I don’t _know_ what the Commander, Aegis, or anyone else thinks of this. Don’t you think that between all of them they would _also_ be concerned about this?”

Patricia gave a long sigh. “I don’t think they would have a choice. Sovereigns are…dangerous. Powerful. More than Imperators. The Imperator was lucky Mosrimor was interested in talking. He’s perhaps the only one who could resist them. We’re all nothing to Sovereigns. Tools and resources to be used. They are only interested in manipulating us, and giving us the illusion of freedom. And…they don’t know the truth.” She shrugged. “If a powerful ally came to XCOM, would the Commander really refuse the help? I know him better than you. Yes, he would be suspicious, but he believes he could control the outcome. But he can’t.”

“And the Imperator can?” Abby asked. “Because that is what you’re suggesting.”

“He has the best _chance_ ,” Patricia clarified. “Maybe it’s a futile dream. But he’s going to at least try. And he has ensured enough independence where that is, perhaps, a feasible outcome. He has resources, training, and power to work with. The Commander…doesn’t. He’s done everything he can; more than anyone could have ever guessed. But he can’t go against a Sovereign One. Not in the situation he’s in.”

“Maybe you should _talk_ to him before you decide to betray your entire species!”

“I will,” she nodded. “But if he is compromised, then I can’t risk myself also falling under T’Leth’s control. But what I _need_ to emphasize is that the Imperator is not the real enemy here. Not anymore.”

Abby let out a short laugh. “Should have told the Battlemaster.”

“Don’t you think it would look _very_ suspicious if the Imperator suddenly ordered an end to the war, or decided to reveal T’Leth to the world?” Patricia demanded. “It has to look real. Natural. It makes the aliens the enemies. It gives cover. It lessens T’Leth’s suspicion. It’s a risk and has definitely not worked out how anyone could have predicted it…” she sighed. “And I think it will be coming to an end. Sides need to be chosen. The Imperator or a Sovereign One.”

“And what about ADVENT-“

“They don’t _matter!”_ Patricia shouted. “What could they possibly do against something that is older than our _species_? Do you think ADVENT could withstand a telepath of that power? One that can make the _Overmind_ look weak? I’m not going to delude myself into thinking that we alone can overcome a being eons old.”

“And you’re relying on what the Imperator is saying!” Abby shouted back. “You may not think he’s lying, but what if he’s _wrong_?”

“On _what_?” Patricia demanded in exasperation. “The Sovereigns? They _exist_ , I’ve _seen_ what they can do. Their motivations? Every single one of them I’ve encountered and learned about wants control of our galaxy and will do whatever is necessary to get it. They don’t _care_ about the ‘lesser species’ they don’t _care_ about ‘freedom’ or ‘independence’. We are _tools_ and _pawns_ to them. And I will _not_ willingly subject Humanity to that!”

“And instead we will be forced to live under the will of the Ethereals,” Abby noted sarcastically. “ _Much_ better.”

“If you haven’t noticed, the Ethereals who are actually involved are few and far between,” Patricia pointed out. “They are begrudgingly helping out in the war, but consider much of it beneath them. The Imperator plans to change this. They need people to lead the aliens; people who are proven to get things done and have the power and fortitude to do that. The Ethereals are few and far between now. Humanity would lead a new Collective, or so the Imperator promises.”

“And you believe him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I believe that is his intention,” Patricia said. “I do not know if he would follow through.”

Abby was silent. “What do you want from me, Patricia? You came here for a reason. You’re trying to convince me of this. So tell me what you want.”

“Your armor,” Patricia said. “Leave it here with the Ethereals, and you’ll be returned to Earth if you wish. You can go right back to XCOM. You can tell them everything I told you. Maybe you’ll come to the same conclusion I have, or maybe not. That’s up to you. The Imperator gave his word you could leave, and he will follow through.”

“And all I have to do is give you this armor.”

“Yes. That’s all he wants.” Patricia rubbed her forehead. “I don’t think you’re an agent of T’Leth. Not anymore, thankfully. You don’t know anything about the Sovereign which would be useful; you’re not his ultimate enemy.” She kept eye contact. “Please, Abby. One way or another the Imperator will get what he needs. I don’t want you to die for nothing.”

“And you would just let this happen,” Abby said slowly. “We’ve been in this war since the beginning, and you would let me become the Imperator’s science experiment.”

Patricia was silent for a few moments, then her face hardened. “Yes Abby, yes I would. This is bigger than you or me. It’s about the future of Humanity, and the future of this galaxy. I’m sorry, but I can’t ignore that even for a friend.”

And Abby realized what she had to do. Patricia may have been convinced of the Imperator’s words, but she would not. She would not betray her species for the perceived greater good, for a possible nightmare galaxy Patricia was afraid of. She would not betray the Commander, Zhang, or anyone in XCOM.

The Ethereals, no matter their reasons, were the enemies of Humanity.

If Patricia was willing to sacrifice her, she was one as well.

Abby looked to the upper left HUD element, and stared at it. It acknowledged her. She blinked. A screen popped up. SELF-DESTRUCT: VERBAL CONFIRMATION NEEDED.

“Confirm.”

Patricia frowned. “Abby?”

That was it. No double check. No hesitation. The HUD just vanished and Abby felt the suit working within her. It didn’t hurt, somewhat to her surprise. She just felt oddly watery and lightheaded. Her vision blurred and sound became more and more muted. Maybe Patricia was trying to shout something to her, maybe not. She couldn’t tell anymore.

All she knew was that she had done her duty. The Imperator had been denied. She was fading and she would die in the next few seconds. She knew that the Commander and Zhang would have been proud. Ruth Shira, Akello, Kalonymous, Mira, Luke, Liam, everyone she had known and lost…she was about to join them.

_I hope I’ll see you soon._

She smiled to herself, even if she no longer had a face to do so.

There was a bright whiteness in her vision, then Abigail Gertrude died.

And she was not afraid.


End file.
